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Tengo los ojos azules, tengo los ojos azules y el corazoncillo igual que la cresta de la lumbre. De noche me salgo al patio, y me harto de llorar, de ver que te quiero tanto y tú no me quieres ná. Esta gitana está loca pero loquita de atar que lo que sueña de noche quiere que sea verdad. Las manos de mi cariño te están bordando una capa con agremán de alhelíes y con esclavina de agua. Cuando fuiste novio mío, por la primavera blanca, los cascos de tu caballo cuatro sollozos de plata. La luna es un pozo chico, las flores no valen nada, lo que valen son tus brazos cuando de noche me abrazan.
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Federico García Lorca (1898 - 1936), "Zorongo" [ voice and guitar ], from Canciones españoles antiguas recopiladas y armonizadas por FGL, no. 10 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Ernst Ludwig Leitner (b. 1943), "Zorongo", published 1989, first performed 1989 [ medium voice and piano ], from Cinco canciones populares antiguas = Fünf alte spanische Volkslieder, no. 3, Vienna, Doblinger [sung text not yet checked]
- by Bruce Trinkley (b. 1945), "Zorongo", published 2000 [ SATB chorus and piano or guitars ], from Dos Canciones de Lorca, arrangement [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Zorongo", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor] , Hein Calis
This text was added to the website: 2009-09-13
Line count: 24
Word count: 117
J'ai les yeux bleus, J'ai les yeux bleus, Et mon petit cœur est comme La crête du feu. La nuit je sors dans le patio Et je suis lasse de pleurer De voir que je t'aime tant Et que tu ne m'aimes pas. Cette gitane est folle Mais folle à lier Car ce à quoi elle rêve la nuit Elle voudrait que ce soit vrai. Les mains de mon amour Te brodent une cape Avec un ruban de giroflées Et une étole d'eau. Quand tu es devenu mon ami Dans le printemps blanc, Les sabots de ton cheval Étaient quatre sanglots d'argent. La lune est un petit puits, Les fleurs ne valent rien, Ceux qui ont de la valeur ce sont tes bras Quand la nuit ils m'embrassent.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Spanish (Español) to French (Français) copyright © 2017 by Guy Laffaille, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in Spanish (Español) from Volkslieder (Folksongs)
This text was added to the website: 2017-10-17
Line count: 24
Word count: 128