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Seguidilla

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Près des remparts de Séville
chez mon ami Lillas Pastia,
j’irai danser la seguedille
et boire du Manzanilla,
j’irai chez mon ami Lillas Pastia.

Oui, mais toute seule on s’ennuie,
et les vrais plaisirs sont à deux;
donc pour me tenir compagnie,
j’ammènerai mon amoureux!
Mon amoureux!.. il est au diable!
Je l’ai mis à la porte hier!

Mon pauvre coeur, très consolable,
mon coeur est libre comme l’air!
J’ai des galants à la douzaine;
mais ils ne sont pas à mon gré.
Voici la fin de la semaine:
qui veut m’aimer? je l’aimerai!

Qui veut mon âme? Elle est à prendre!
Vous arrivez au bon moment!
Je n’ai guère le temps d’attendre,
car avec mon nouvel amant

près des remparts de Séville,
chez mon ami Lillas Pastia,
j’irai danser la seguedille
et boire du Manzanilla,
dimanche, j’irai chez mon ami Pastia!

 

Right by the walls of Seville,
At myfriend Lillas Pastia’s,
I’ll go to dance the seguidilla
And drink some manzanilla,
I’ll go to my friend Lillas Pastia’s.

But all alone it’s not much fun,
True pleasure is when you’re a pair;
So, to make sure I’ve got someone,
I’ll bring my lover with me there!
My lover! To hell with him now!
I threw him out yesterday!

My poor heart is easily consoled,
My heart is free, it’s free as the air!
I am pursued by dozens of gallants;
But none that I like.
Now here’s the weekend,
Who will love me? I’ll love him too!

Who wants my soul? It’s for sale!
You have arrived at the perfect time!
I have no time to waste by waiting,
For with my new man by my side,

Right by the walls of Sevilla,
At my old friend Lillas Pastia’s,
I’ll go to dance the seguidilla
And drink some manzanilla,
This Sunday I’ll go to my old friend Pastia’s!

 

For a long moment neither spoke nor made a sound. Jose found himself acutely aware of her presence – the fall of her untamed dark hair over her shoulders, the red scratches from her tussle with the other cigarette girl standing out against her olive skin. Her scent was intoxicating – a mixture of cigar smoke and the heavy perfume of evening flowers. She was not a beauty, like the pampered señoritas of Seville. Rather, she was a wild animal: unpredictable, untamable. So caught up was he in her appearance that he jumped to hear the sound of her voice. She was singing, of all things, as carefree as if she were wandering through the marketplace and not tied up like an unruly horse. Her voice was deep and husky, undeniably sensual as she sang of her various suitors and her desire for a new lover who could satisfy her. She would not look at him, but he knew she was trying to provoke him into a reaction. He yanked on the rope that bound her to him. “Stop that. No one gave you permission to speak.”

Her dark eyes caught his and held them. “I did not speak. I was only singing for myself. No one is forcing you to listen.”

With that she turned away from him once more, her voice rising once again and sweeping over him like a wave. He felt heat flooding his body – an undeniable longing for her overwhelmed him, sharp stabs of jealousy piercing him as he imagined her entwined in another’s arms. He would not allow it – she was his, she was at his mercy and he never had to let her go. But then again, a woman like her…could she ever survive in chains? As if hearing his thoughts she turned to face him once more. Whether by accident or on purpose her blouse had slipped down, revealing one bare shoulder. He reached towards her and she did not pull away. The moment his hand caressed her cheek he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach; he was well and truly caught now. The tables had been turned, though he could not have said precisely when, and he was hers as surely as if he had been the one in chains. Her teeth glinted like a predator’s, ready to devour him, but there was no way out. He did not even want to escape her. There could be no better death, no greater honor, than to die in her arms.