Mañana Sale [English translation]

She has the semblant color

of an ivory virgin,

she carries a song in the lips

and a fifteen grand ticket in the hand.

From a two horses carriage

comes out a voice with crown:

"If you want, may rose,

I'll be your vassal."

Cheap talk

and mouning in the heart

The sacramento street

felt the moan of her proclamation.

To who I sell the luck?

It comes out tomorrow with prize!

My eyes need to see you

pierced by three knives.

The fortune, for tomorrow!

Who buys me fifteen grand ticket?

May the bells toll

at your dying hour.

Four series! How pretty!

I'm throwing the fortune!

They're from Mrs Manolita!

Who buys me this sorrow?

It comes out tomorrow!

Going out partying in his carriage

with marquis crown,

they killed him one night

at the Lavapiés street.

Nobody knew the reason,

nobody knows the secret.

The girl who sold him

the lottery knows.

Maybe a same knife

took revenge in a double betrayal.

Wrapped in her shawl

comes the chorus of this song:

To who I sell the luck?

It comes out tomorrow with prize!

They gave me death

with the knives that pierced you.

The fortune, for tomorrow!

Who buys me fifteen grand ticket?

May the bells toll

and bury me with you.

Four series! How pretty!

I'm throwing the fortune!

They're from Mrs Manolita!

Who buys me this sorrow?

It comes out tomorrow!

And at the edge of the dawn

from El Sol to Chamberí,

nobody knows why she cries

proclaiming a fifteen grand ticket

Four series! How pretty!

I'm throwing the fortune!

They're from Mrs Manolita!

Who buys me this sorrow?

It comes out tomorrow!

• Artist:Concha Piquer