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Son of the Moon

Foolish is he who doesn't understand
A legend tells
Of a gypsy woman
Who pleaded with the moon
Until dawn
Weeping she begged
At the break of dawn
To marry a gipsy man
"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 it very much."
 
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 gypsy 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.
 
(Chorus)
 
And on the nights
The moon is full
It is because the child
Is in a good mood.
And if the child cries,
The moon wanes
To make it a cradle.
And if the child cries,
The moon wanes
To make it a cradle.
 
Testi originali

Hijo de la Luna

Clicca per vedere il testo originale (Spagnolo)

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