Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bulerías De La Bola, artist - Estrella Morente. Album song 15 Años con Estrella, in the genre Музыка мира
Date of issue: 27.10.2016
Record label: Warner Music Spain
Song language: Spanish
Bulerías De La Bola(original) |
Bolita rodar |
Ay ¿por que no echas tu primito mío? |
La bolita rodar |
Y lo que de Dios tuviere mare |
Y al amanecer vendrá |
Ay mare mare |
Y al amanecer vendrá |
Arena lleva la playa |
Yo, tu querer no lo olvido |
Y por donde quiera que vaya |
Que mis ojitos estaban tan hechos |
A verte a ti to' los días |
Y ahora se me vienen pasando |
Meses semanas y días |
Vengo de la gran Turquía |
Traigo pañuelos de Holanda |
Que en España no los había |
Ay pa' qué tanto yo ver |
Ay mis ojitos tengo secos |
De sembrar y no coger |
Yo no le temo a la muerte |
Porque morir es natural |
Le temo más a las cuentas |
Que a Dios le tendré que dar |
Serrana cómo te has puesto |
Que no veía las costuras |
Ni tampoco el movimiento |
Esa gitana tan guapa |
Que va por mitad del río |
No la dejéis que baje sola |
Que se le va a enganchar el vestido |
Que me parece |
Que he visto volar una cometa |
Llena de tirabuzones |
Con la cara de mi estrella |
Yo seré muralla pa' que no te ofendan |
Y a ti no te tiren gitana a por tierra |
(translation) |
little ball roll |
Oh, why don't you throw out your little cousin of mine? |
the little ball roll |
And what of God had mare |
And at dawn it will come |
Ay mare mare |
And at dawn it will come |
Sand carries the beach |
I, your love I do not forget |
And wherever you go |
That my little eyes were so made |
To see you every day |
And now they are happening to me |
months weeks and days |
I come from the great Turkey |
I bring handkerchiefs from Holland |
That in Spain there were none |
Oh pa' how much I see |
Oh my eyes are dry |
To sow and not to harvest |
I'm not afraid of death |
Because dying is natural |
I'm more afraid of accounts |
That I will have to give to God |
Serrana, how have you been? |
I didn't see the seams |
Neither does the movement |
That gypsy so pretty |
That goes through the middle of the river |
Don't let her go down alone |
That she is going to catch her dress |
that she seems to me |
I have seen a kite fly |
full of ringlets |
With the face of my star |
I will be a wall so that they do not offend you |
And they don't throw you gypsy to the ground |