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Since I was little
I liked to mimic the stars
Having a premonition
That someday I was going to be like them
When I heard, when I heard my singing
Gazing at the gestures of my face
My mother was murmuring to me
Muttering: "this girl is crazy"
What I had in the sense
I have come to get it
My madness has come true
Now it's my turn
Now it's my turn
Now, now it's my turn
Copla, copla of dark Spain
Bouquet of light and flowers
That talks about joys and sorrows
Jealousy and love
Copla, copla of crying and anguish
Copla of joyful love
That disturbs the thought
Of the man and the woman
Copla of Spain's hot blood,sun of the suns
When I sing to you bravely I myself yell ole
Ole, ole, ole and ole
There's no need of mantilla
Nor fan, castañuela nor peineta
To sing to Seville
To the sentimental beat of a falseta
The thing, the thing one needs
To say the singing with feeling
What is the leprechaun that turns on
And to the people, and to the people
He makes his mother scream
To the heat of the whole Spain I'm singing my feelings
And my copla is a flag
Now it's my turn
Now it's my turn, now
Now it's my turn
Copla, copla of dark Spain
Bouquet of light and flowers
That talks about joys and sorrows
Jealousy and love
Copla, copla of crying and anguish
Copla of joyful love
That disturbs the thought
Of the man and the woman
Copla of Spain's hot blood,sun of the suns
When I sing to you bravely I myself yell ole
Ole, ole, ole and ole
I tell myself olé
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