Serenata (Jota de Perico)
from El guitarrico
MUSIC: Agustín Pérez Soriano
TEXT: Luis Pascala Frutos
Perico and Trinidad have grown up together and love each other, but her family wants her to marry a wealthy rancher. Alone, Perico picks up his trusty guitar to lament his situation.
Suena guitarrico mío,
Suena guitarrico suena,
Y no te importe que el viento
Vaya barriendo mis quejas,
Como el viento es para todos
Puede esconder con ella.
Dila si la ves cruzar,
Dila pero muy bajito,
Dila que estoy medio loco,
Dila que loco perdido,
Dila que la inquisición,
Dila que era un gran tormento
Pero que aquello no es nada
Para lo que estoy sufriendo.
Dila muchas cosas,
Dila que la quiero,
Dila que no vivo,
Dila que me muero.
Dila que me mire siquiera un poquito,
Dila que se apiade de este tu baturrico.
Suena guitarrico mío...
Dila que mi corazón,
Dila que lo estoy buscando,
Dila que en ella lo puse,
Dila que donde lo ha echado
Dila que calme mi amor,
Dila que escuche mis quejas
Dila que me estoy muriendo
Y quiero vivir sin ella.
Dila muchas cosas...
Calla quitarrico mío...
Play, my little guitar,
Play, little guitar, play
And don’t worry if the wind
Blows your plea away;
Since the wind is for everyone,
It can run into her.
Tell her if you see her pass,
tell her but very softly,
tell her I’m going crazy,
tell her, I’ve lost my mind,
tell her that the Inquisition,
tell her it was a great torment
but that was nothing compared
to what I am suffering now.
Tell her many things,
tell her I love her,
tell her I cannot live,
tell her I’m dying.
Tell her to glance at me just a moment,
tell her to have mercy on this simple man.
Play, my little guitar...
Tell her that my heart,
tell her I am looking for it,
tell that I gave it to her,
ask her where she has thrown it
tell her to satisfy my love,
tell her to listen to my pleas,
tell her that I’m dying
and I want to live for her.
Tell her many things...
Keep quiet, my little guitar...
"Te quiero, morena" (Jota de Baturro) from El trust de los tenorios
MUSIC: José Serrano Simeón
TEXT: Carlos Arniches &
Enrique García Álvarez
To keep his membership in Madrid’s distinguished society of Don Juans, Pedro Saboya must seduce the first woman passing by the club’s balcony, who turns out to be the wife of the club’s president. The married couple take flight across the globe, pursued by the relentless Saboya. Along the way, this jota is sung by an Aragonese tenor during an incongruously international Venetian Carnival.
Te quiero, morena, te quiero
Como se quiere la gloria,
Como se quiere al dinero,
Como se quiere a una madre,
Te quiero.
Me muero, baturra, me muero
Por tu boquita de rosa,
Por tu reír zalamero,
Por los ojos de tu cara,
me muero.
Es la jota que siempre canté,
la sal de mi tierra,
Y ¡olé! ¡olé!
I love you, dark beauty, I love you
like one loves glory,
like one loves money,
like one loves a mother,
I love you.
I’m dying, Aragon girl, I’m dying
for your little rosy mouth,
for your flattering laugh,
for the eyes of your face,
I’m dying.
It’s the jota that I always sang,
the salt of my earth,
and olé! Olé!
