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Midnight in the gardens of the Alhambra, the red castle. The wandering breeze brings to mind love. Under the waving jets of the fountains, as silent as the petrified marble. With my eyes closed, hands stretched out: I sleepwalk in your perfume. Cradle-me, song of jasmine, take me in your arms, my orange blossom. How dark it is, the wood of your guitars. They weep in the moonlight. How dark their hair is, your gypsies. Their skirts make my heart spin. Granada, I dream of your nights, so warm. In the heart of the romantic Nasrid Palace, atop the invincible Alcabeza citadel, relentlessly, my desire roams. Listen to my voice calling you. Granada, tonight I will be faithful to you. Your sky is above my land, my only light.
Song of Andalusian jasmine