Hijo de la Luna

Tonto el que no entienda.

Cuenta una leyenda
Que una hembra gitana
ConjurÛ a la luna
Hasta el amanecer.
Llorando pedÌa
Al llegar el dÌa
Desposar un calÈ.

"Tendr·s a tu hombre,
Piel morena,"
Desde el cielo
HablÛ la luna llena.
"Pero a cambio quiero
El hijo primero
Que le engendres a Èl.
Que quien su hijo inmola
Para no estar sola
Poco le iba a querer."

[Estribillo:]
Luna quieres ser madre
Y no encuentras querer
Que te haga mujer.
Dime, luna de plata,
QuÈ pretendes hacer
Con un ni?o de piel.
A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha,
Hijo de la luna.

De padre canela
NaciÛ un ni?o
Blanco como el lomo
De un armi?o,
Con los ojos grises
En vez de aceituna --
Ni?o albino de luna.
"?Maldita su estampa!
Este hijo es de un payo
Y yo no me lo callo."

[Estribillo]

Gitano al creerse deshonrado,
Se fue a su mujer,
Cuchillo en mano.
"?De quien es el hijo?
Me has enga?ado fijo."
Y de muerte la hiriÛ.
Luego se hizo al monte
Con el ni?o en brazos
Y allÌ le abandono.

[Estribillo]

Y en las noches
Que haya luna llena
Ser· porque el ni?o
EstÈ de buenas.
Y si el ni?o llora
Menguar· la luna
Para hacerle una cuna.
Y si el ni?o llora
Menguar· la luna
Para hacerle una cuna.


English Translation:

Son of the moon
Foolish is he who doesn't understand.

A legend tells of a gipsy woman
Who pleaded with the moon until dawn.
Weeping, she begged for a gipsy man
To marry the following day.

"You'll have your man, tawny skin,"
Said the full moon from the sky.
"But in return I want the first child
That you have with him.
Because she who sacrifices her child
So that she is not alone,
Isn't likely to love him very much."

[Chorus:]
Moon, you want to be mother,
But you cannot find a love
Who makes you a woman.
Tell me, silver moon,
What you intend to do
With a child of flesh.
A-ha-ha, a-ha-ha,
Son of the moon.

From a cinnamon-skinned father
A son was born,
White as the back of an ermine,
With grey eyes instead of olive --
Moon's albino child.
"Damn his appearance!
This is not a gipsy man's son
And I will not put up with that."

[Chorus]

Believing to be dishonoured,
The gipsy went to his wife,
A knife in his hand.
"Whose son is this?
You've certainly fooled me!"
And he wounded her mortally.
Then he went to the woodlands
With the child in his arms
And left it behind there.

Lyrics are the property of the copyright holders and are provided here for educational purposes only so that dancers have a better idea of how to shape their dance to work appropriately with the music.

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