Halt, my faithful, impetuous steed, 
At the porch of a stranger 
And do not touch the raw earth 
With your silver horseshoe. 

I, like a shadow, will break into the house, 
I will reveal them in bed, 
I will lull them with eternal sleep, 
With a death of calmness. 

And then bring me 
To a high cliff 
And from the cliff 
Throw me from yourself into the deep Genil. 

The Genil makes a noise and awaits the prey 
But the passionate maiden does not guess 
And she kisses the young moor 
And to the young moor she sings:

“Forsake words, my friend, 
What’s the use of vows, of promises? 
From your hot lips I love 
To drink a single kiss. 

Oh, why can’t I take my whole life, 
Sweet one, 
And squeeze the torrent into a kiss, 
Into the flame of a kiss!” 

It came true! Three cedars above a grave 
Cast a shadow upon three moons, 
Three multicolored 
Turbans are dejectedly shaken by the wind. 

All around the plain sadly sleeps, 
Only on the fresh turf of the new grave 
The Andalusian steed, the steed knocks 
With its silver horseshoe.