“PICASSO’S BARBER” SUBTITLES
I only fly with you, I only fly with you,
Oh! But sunbeams never fall where a storm sounds
Come with me and we’ll make
Come with me and we’ll make
A house in the country my little companion, my soul
I’m calling you to love
Because my soul is there
So tired of the day
How politeness weakens me
How my doll did hurt me
Path along the way
The mountain’s little pathway
Here come two lasses, here come two lasses
One of them is Juana, one of them is Juana
The other is Rosa, the other is Rosa
They’re knocking me down off my oxen
And knocking others off their cannons
You should keep in mind
That God has punished you
He has a knack
He has a knack
Whenever it happens to you call the guards
For he was stopped there on the very corner
Showing off his cute little mouth
Red trousers
Red trousers
Oh mom how I like the sound
How I like the sound
Morente: I planned on being a musician…when I saw that it was possible, or well,
that it was difficult, but at least being in Madrid…but of course, I really liked to sing,
liked flamenco very much, and I would buy lyrics, songs, I would sing them so many
times in the street without realizing it, right? On Gran Via.
Morente: So, well, I was already gathering with Andalusians, they would sing there
for a living, and little by little I started to get into it as a professional.
Morente: Wow! I used to dream…as a little boy, I dreamed of becoming a flamenco
singer like I dreamed of being a bullfighter. At that time they still hadn’t thought of
forbidding bullfights.
Barber: We, I, as soon as he found out that there was a hairdresser in Vallauris that
was Spanish, then he was interested in meeting me and then I gave him a hug, and
from then on we were friends and inseparable. Perhaps even more, because he
considered me like a son and I considered him like a father.
Long procession of eyes
Walking on tiptoe
On the open fan
Throw water on the bed,
Lake on the shadow of a jasmine forest
On the skin of fresh-baked bread
They went to sing
Through heavens
Of clouds and pastries
And jasmine bouquets
They stood up
And knocked about by clouds
And handfuls of roses
They were stripped bare
Seated on the staircase
Seated on the staircase
Waiting for the future
And the future never comes
Musician: Hey! You’re missing a rap!
Let’s do it again!
Morente: Well I like where it is, huh! I...pardon, I…Don’t worry! If you leave it there,
I like it. If you leave it there it’s valid, ok? Bam bam! No problem…and if you hit it
again it’s also good.
Morente: Alright, I think you’ve got to do things not just…necessarily, so people say
“good”!...Well now either fusion or mixing are in fashion…hey, I’m going to start
making something interesting too, but basically what I think you’ve got to start
doing when a job is done is…be as consistent as possible with the topic with which
you’re dealing. If you’re dealing with the topic of Picasso, Hey! you’ve primarily got
to remember Guernica, of course! And Guernica was genocide. How do you sing
about genocide? In Cuban folk songs? Cuban folk songs are wonderful…it’s another
concept, and that gives fusion, that gives innovation, good…but better, but no! It
mustn’t be the priority, but rather, be faithful to oneself.
They ordered me
To serve God and the King
Morente: Alright, yes, this is a street, they are all amazing. This belongs to the lower
Albaicin, or Moorish quarter. This is Zafra street, which will also lead to Carrera del
Darro street. Over there is where the Maravilla procession is held in the church of
San Pedro, which is wonderful, and here the Concha procession.
Emilio: Is this one of the more typical neighbourhoods in Granada, or the most?
Morente: I think so! I think so! Hey, the Realejo Jewish quarter, is also important…
Antequerela, and Sacromonte, which is the gypsy neighbourhood.
Emilio: What kind of people live in the Albaicin? Uh…you live in the Albaicin!
Morente: Well uh…creatures live there, they’ve got hair, a mouth…human beings.
As if they were the most similar to human beings…extraordinary people, very good.
Emilio: You’re from, you were born here in this neighbourhood?
Morente: I was born in…further up in the little Porras Square, there around San
Gregorio.
Morente: Yes, the great international dancer Aurora Carbonell now, aside from
making the best salmorejo, she’s taken to painting and they’ve found a great facet in
her for the art of painting, and I’m encouraging her to show it soon. But look…I’m
afraid that so much will be taken away from me that I’ll start to disappear a little
more each time and she’ll stand out even more!
Aurora: For me Enrique, well look…Someone who respects people so much, who
teaches you so much, like he has taught me, because…He feels love for everything!
Not just towards women. A person who respects everything so much…I don’t know.
You have to thank life for being at his side!
Aurora: Truthfully, my career is his career, right? Because I feel like his career is
my career, both of our careers. It’s to be there to fight, and help him with
everything. I’m telling you, I never left my career; He’s my career!
Morente: No! No my dear Eugenio, I’ve got Eugenia, Eugenia Carbonell, whose
name is Aurora Carbonell, who cuts my hair. But of course, when she’s mad, well of
course, of course, my ears are in danger, my ears are at risk. I’ve got to put a cover
over my ears sometimes. The cover is made of iron. She’s got a temper, she’s…she’s
good, she’s a good girl, and a great and wonderful mother. But, she’s…tricky, you
know? The thing is, she’s got personality, and she’s a good person.
Aurora: Well, my contribution towards…it’s…well just to be there and make his life
as…Oh look! So pretty, isn’t it?
Interviewer: The sky is crying!
Aurora: The sky is crying, but maybe they’re tears of joy, right? Because it’s a lovely
night. He’s a very natural person, very truthful, very simple, and at the same time
he’s a genius, he’s a monster, isn’t he? A person who is always creating! And this
bird passing by…he listens to it and, well, you’ve also got to know how to deal with
that person. But for me, he’s a delight! Amazing!
Morente: Thank you very much. Lots of kisses, thanks.
Eugenio: If I were born again, I would be a hairdresser again, because it’s one of the
most beautiful trades in the world. The doctor in my village used to say: “Arias, we
have an advantage over the rest, because we work on living matter”, and it was true.
Morente: Hey! Well all three sing, but of course…well of course, above all, jokes
aside, it’s a wonderful joy. All three sing better than me!
Son: Well yeah!
Daughter: I would define him as a very good person, he’s a very good person.
Morente: It’s obvious that she’s my daughter, isn’t it?
The name of a man
That she embroidered like a madwoman
On silk sheets
Passionately
As night falls
Her pain flows
Into a wordless song
Yellow and painful
And into the mirror’s sea
She touches up her smile
Just in case that man
Were to suddenly return
Miss, malicious people say
When they catch sight of her
Haggard and withered
Miss, says the postman, seeing her blush
As she asks for the letter
Which she so badly needs
And seeing her so sad, with dark circles under her eyes
And with a painful fury
Calls to her, calls to her, Miss
Miss, Miss, Miss
Miss,
There is where I have my heart
Stronger than the columns in Solomon’s temple
Stronger than the column in Solomon’s temple
Let us go to the river to catch shrimp in our clothes
To catch shrimp in our clothes
Oh, let us go to the river
To catch shrimp in our clothes
Gabriel Estevez: Well I believe so, they’ve done a restoration.
Morente: There were grilles before.
Morente: It’s got wonderful acoustics. Besides that, the town was well supplied
with water from the well. People used to come here with their jugs…
Morente: I remember, buckets…
Gabriel Estevez: …but the water here comes from the fountain of tears, from the
Aynadamar, between the towns of Viznar and Alfacar. It’s the purest of waters,
spring water that comes directly from the Trillo well, which is where the street got
its name. It’s one of the most ancient streets in the Albaicin. And look at that, we’re
going to be in luck because it’s open. You’ll be able to wet your throat from the well.
Estrella, come here!
Morente: Hello!
Gabriel: Incredible!
Morente: Another!
Javier Conde: You’ve arrived at Plaza Nueva, more or less.
Morente: Right, back then this water went down below by the tin smith’s shop,
because I remember that in the house where I used to live we would drink water
from the well. There was a well in the patio.
Gabriel: And there are spirits here; where there’s water, there are spirits, and this
exact jasmine produces flowers all year long- spring, autumn, winter, it’s surprising!
Morente: There was everything in my house; there were ghosts, there was
everything.
Gabriel: We can go up towards…
Morente: There was a poor little epileptic girl, Maria. She had epileptic attacks.
Yeah, yeah she had a real skill. As a little boy, whenever she would get an attack,
and they put a spoon in her, it would really leave an impression on me.
Gabriel: Wooden?
Morente: No! What the hell! Whatever iron one there was, and well…that poor girl
suffered a lot, and seeing them put the spoon in her mouth, well…that really leaves
an impression on a child!
Gabriel: So she wouldn’t bite her tongue.
Morente: Of course I can’t forget that! She was really used to it because when she
would come to she was super nice. She’d send me to get a bottle and she’d give me a
penny to bring it, a whole penny for white wine from the tavern next door and two
Camel cigarettes.
Gabriel: To recover? Ha!
Morente: Very nice, very generous. People who have more problems like that are
always more generous, aren’t they? That, over there, below. This water that says
Gabriel…
Soleá: My father, how can I explain what my father is for me…well having Enrique
Morente as a father, I believe that doesn’t happen every day, does it? Well, he’s a
very fun father, very interesting, very special. We are constantly learning from him.
Unintentionally, without meaning to, he continually gives us lectures on life…and
very proud.
José Enrique: Well I personally believe that as an artist, from that point of view it’s
the greatest thing, at least for me. From my point of view, I think it’s the greatest, he
can truthfully be very extremely proud, because to get that far…
Soleá: For me, flamenco is a part of life…and of course flamenco is always going to
be present, always in my voice and in my heart…well, I also like other types of music
and I would like…to adventure out a little and enjoy, but always flamenco,
always…with me!
But remember always,
What I wrote you one day,
Thinking of you, thinking of you,
As I’m thinking now, as I’m thinking now,
As I’m thinking now.
I don’t know how to tell you anything more,
But you should understand,
That I am still on the path
On the path,
But remember always,
What I wrote you one day,
Thinking of you, thinking of you,
As I’m thinking now, as I’m thinking now.
Gabriel: Here in the Placeta del Almez, which is this tree. Yes, the square is named
for it. I recommend that you stand with your back against the wall, because the
effect of the Alcazaba citadel, which appears above the wall…it’s magical. And then
the Alhambra, the Sierra Nevada in the background with its snow.
Estrella: Wonderful!
Gabriel: And this tree, in winter when all the leaves have fallen, it’s like a tree, like a
kind of Chillida sculpture with its fingers like this in a very visceral way.
I don’t know what happened
To the mint, mama
To the mint, mama
That once was blessed, it dried up, mama
Mama, mama, mama, mama
Watching and watching
And seeing your call
When I warned
That the sound of your voice
Went from green to grey
I don’t put on makeup or wash myself
I don’t even put on rouge
Oh! Until my boyfriend comes
From the Albacete town fair
I don’t put on makeup or wash myself
I don’t even put on rouge
Oh! Until my boyfriend comes
from the Albacete town fair
With fire-lit lamps
In whose glow
The deep caverns of feeling
That was dark and blind
That was dark and blind
With strange delicacy
Heat
Together flood its moan
Fire-lit lamps
Morente: And this is Plaza Larga, which is the heart of the Albaicin. Isn’t that right?
Lady: It’s in the centre of the Albaicin. Of course, long ago to come here you went
through the Arco de las Pesas (Scales), where you had to pay a toll, to be able to
enter the square here.
Morente: Oh, that’s why it’s called Arco de las Pesas.
Lady: Right. What was it called up there, Enrique, where we used to go to drink
water?
Morente: El Chorrillo.
Lady: El Chorrillo.
Morente: …that dried up, didn’t it? It got torn down.
Lady: That thing is worthless now, good Lord! It gives you gastroenteritis with that
water.
Morente: It used to be the type of fountain that there’d be someone that would
come and say: I bet you that if you take a swig, you’ll throw up.
Lady: Right, they used to say that…it settled your stomach and everything.
Morente: And basically, what they would do, whoever would come, would do that,
and they wouldn’t remember, they would drink it and a little bit later, wow! They
would throw up…and people liked it because it worked the digestion.
Lady: Let’s see…what do you all want to drink? Do you want something to drink?
Morente: Yes, I want a beer.
Lady: Alright, two cold beers!
Morente: The subject of Plaza Larga. Estrella!...The square’s bulería was dedicated
to this bar, the Porrona.
Daughter: Oh yeah?...oh, how clever!
Morente: I go out less now, because I have more and more work. And you can’t get
drunk every day, and start recording the next day.
He’s a traveller on my road
My road, he’s a traveller
I don’t walk past your door
So as not to throw another log on the fire
I don’t walk past you door
So as not to throw another log on the fire
They all dress in colour
They all dress in colour
And I dress in black
Thinking about Madrid
I dress in black
Thinking about Madrid
Morente: Well, I love you even though I don’t see you.
Emilio: What do they mean to you, Enrique, Picasso’s texts that you’ve put to music?
Morente: Well, speaking of texts, here, which is where he grew up, in this wonderful
opera café, across from the Liceo opera house, Rafael de Leon’s “(Ojos Verdes) Green
Eyes” was written, along with the historic conversation with Federico Garcia Lorca,
witnessed by the person who sang it, the great Miguel de Molina. Talking about
Picasso’s texts, well, is fantastic. I didn’t know they existed, and my friend Rafael
Inglada, well he was Picasso’s documentarian. He sent me a lot of things and that’s
where I discovered that Picasso had written so much and it moved me, it made me
excited, regardless, of course it’s not going to be, Picasso’s writing, it isn’t going to be
the equivalent or as important as his painting, but it would be good. But he does
write, I realized used to write, with the grace of Malaga, with uninhibited talent and
freely, and I really liked daring to put it to music and sing it.
Morente: Well, observing the abysses and the differences, naturally, I…I’d like to
have things in common with Picasso. But, almost, regardless of the sketches for
Guernica I’d like to share the great freedom with which he didn’t take or accept
anyone giving him anything, and the sense of the innate avant-garde. It’s
interesting, trying to be an artist.
Buitrago de Lozoya
June 2, 2010
That comes out your window
Such is the clarity
That comes out your window
So says the neighbourhood
The moon is already in the street
Oh, the moon is in the street
The moon, it is in the street
Such a coward, coward
Such a coward, coward
My head, my head
I place on the pillar
You have to strike a blow
You have to strike a blow
With the heel of your boot
Stomp
I had not slowed the water
I go to the fountain and drink
The water didn’t slow
What I’m doing is increase it
With the tears that I cry
Oh with the tears that I cry
If I do not see you
The sorrow I feel if I do not see you
If I do not see you
And I find no more joy
When your name is mentioned
When your name is mentioned
My sorrows grow happier
Such a coward, coward
Such a coward, coward
My head, head, head
I place on the pillar
If my voice, my voice died on land
Carry it to sea level
If my voice died on land
Leave it on the shore
And leave it at sea level
And name it captain of a white battleship
Of a white battleship
The afternoon when the wicker man was killed
The afternoon when the wicker man was killed
In the mountain a small boy remained still
In the mountain a small boy remained still
As silent as the bullfighter
Who gives his life
As silent as the bullfighter
Who gives his life
When he saw the bull
When he saw the bull
He didn’t move
When he saw the bull
He didn’t move
Oh, my voice, decorated with the sailor’s insignia
Oh my decorated voice
An anchor on the heart
And the sail on the anchor
And the wind on the sail
And the stars on the wind
And the stars on the wind
Desiring one thing
It looks like a world
Then it is achieved
It is only one
It’s only one, mama
It is only one
Desiring one thing
It looks like a world
Desiring one thing
Then it is achieved
It is only one
It is only one, sister
It is only one
Desiring one thing
It looks like a world
And for the cosmorama
I will pay your entrance
And if your mother doesn’t want it
Oh, what will they say what will they say
What will they have to say
I love you and adore you
I will die for you
Eugenio Arias: Picasso, it has been said, shouted at bulls. It isn’t true. Picasso
watched the bulls quietly, and when a bullfighter was overcome by a bull he would
say: Poor boy, how he must be suffering!
Morente: So, let’s see if we can manage to create a more abstract soleá, and we play
with silences, and we can play with this, with this, whatever you want! But
whenever the bullfighter starts to mark the tempo…someone…it almost might not
be heard in the background…what we’ve got to feel ourselves as well.
Morente: Let there be silences…let there be a lot of silences so that silence lives
even more…so the music…
Guitarist: Do you want to pick up the end of the Malagueña?
Morente: Yes, play it for me.
And she remains forever asleep
Each clock that chimes its bells
Morente: Silence. Just feel it, nothing more. Quiet yourself as well. Whenever you
see that we don’t know where we are, for example, right? You mark it.
Morente: Stay a little quieter.
Drummer: Okay.
Morente: We can do it again if you want.
Morente: Well, I’ve had different stages, but the feeling always stays the same,
starting when I became aware of…well, of what was happening in the world,
conscious of what justice is, what the situation was that we were living in Spain
which at that time was the dictatorship, and apart from that well I…and from then
on, I defend the rights of the people and social justice, but, I’ve always liked
defending that from a non partisan idea because then you are definitely left with
people, you are left more with people than with ideology. Ideologies are of course
valid to me and super respectable, but there are also people that within a religion
dress as priests but that are more atheist than Stalin and…so then it’s the person
that matters.
From the convent
The bells
If they ask for whom they toll
From the convent
The bells
Tell them no
Tell them that they are tolling
For my death
For my hope
For my death
For my hope
Morente: Self portrait. All of these are poems by Picasso, that I have here today is
set to this rhythm for the soleá. And a letter that Pablo Ruiz Picasso wrote.
Barcelona Liceo
September 24, 2010
Morente: I’ll finish it better another day…
Morente: And of course the dancer is here, it’s Pedro Gavarre, let’s give him a round
of applause, the young dancer of the moment.
I was born
From a white world
And from a small glass of water
From Andalusian soil
I was born of a
I was born of a mother
Daughter of a 15-year old daughter
Born in Malaga
In the Percheles
The beautiful bull
That fathered my brow
Crowned in jasmines
Violin jasmines
And little lit paper lanterns
From a water jug
From the place of prickly pears
My violet, my violet
Road, road of my Andalusia
Even though you may not want
Them to see you, you follow me
You hide yourself
Behind the violets
And tell me if some day I could grab the sun’s fingers
That goes behind, behind the blinds in the morning
When waking, near the Mediterranean Sea
I swear on my mother, I swear
I swear to you
I swear on my mother, I swear
I’ve found
Soupy wings, I’ll give you from my flesh
And finding
Soupy wings, I’ll give you from my flesh
With my short understanding
I appreciate living, I
I’ve died of sorrow because I didn’t learn to feel
Federico: So this chord sounds okay then?
Morente: Yes, yes. Remember, Remember, Remember Buenos Aires.
Federico: Alright, well we’ll put in that chord then.
Morente: And about Cordova as well.
Morente: Well, Argentina has always given us brilliant artists, it’s brimming with
musicians, wonderful ones. Well…We’re not going to list them all, today we’ve got
the great pianist extraordinaire, Federico Lechner. Thank you for your time,
Federico!
Federico: You’re welcome, a huge pleasure to be here!
I see on the paintbrush, a yellowish light
Light from the café,
Country air,
That breathes canvases and paper,
Alcohol lamp
A stilled star in her room
The sky holding her hand
Stopped being an expression
Hidden behind the sunflower
A dream of helplessness dwelling
Guilty and loyal to its pain
Violated by the fallen angel
Living on the brush
Combing wheat and tearing skin
Painting a self portrait
Able to know itself
Son of pain
Who in silence
Drowns his own voice
Lord of the world in which
Today you and I live
Hidden behind the lantern’s shadow
Dark conscience hides
Guilty and loyal to its pain
Violated by the fallen angel
Living on the paintbrush
Combing wheat and tearing skin
Hidden behind the lantern’s shadow
Dark conscience hides
Guilty and loyal to its pain
Violated by the fallen angel
Living on the paintbrush
Combing wheat and tearing skin
Morente: It represents the four races, such a brilliant idea, more open, more…about
racial mixing, more anti-racist. And following up the line about love with friendship,
right? Look…
And I tied my tongue in a knot
I tied my tongue in a knot
They want me to be quiet
And I tied my tongue in a knot
These people are able
To stop talking
Morente: We’re not in the disco there across from Merced neighbourhood. No, it’s a
sample that we’ve done to give you a little…I don’t know…I don’t know what we’re
going to give you! Something, something, A little bit of what? Something. It’s a
subject with a text so well written by Pablo Ruiz Picasso, that we fell in love with it,
it fascinated us, it was Barcelonan, Andalusian, it was French. It was worldly. For
you all, a subject that will degenerate into the matter of Guernica, “Guernicity”.
I will paint my arrow no more
Which is seen in a water drop
Around morning when the wind whistles
The hour written
The swing is carried
It is carried by your laughter
The leaves of the blue acanthus
That bake in the violet’s spotted black
Are wiped clean with its cry
The acanthus leaves
The colour of green apple
Yesterday, if time permits,
Today, the 18th of August
In the morning there were bulls,
In Plaza de Cartagena, one Sunday in 1940
I will paint my arrow no more.
Which is seen in a water drop
Around morning when the wind whistles
The hour written
The swing is still carried
Carried by your laughter
The blue acanthus leaves
That bake in the violet’s spotted black
Are wiped clean with its cry
The acanthus leaves
The colour of green apple
Yesterday, if time permits
Today the 18th of August
In the morning there were bulls,
In Plaza de Cartagena, one Sunday
In 1940.
And then the postman came,
Delivering claps and olés
Morente: Well, the first time that I saw Guernica, first, first time, the first time…I
didn’t understand its depth. Well…I don’t if I still understand it, in depth,
because…it’s a masterpiece isn’t it? But today I am conscious of what it is. I once
went to see the Contemporary Art Museum many years ago, and in those days…well,
yes I liked art, I was a singer, I had been hired by a ballet, the Mariedma Ballet
needed a singer and they took me to New York. I knew 2 or 3 cities in the world:
Cordoba, Malaga, Madrid, Granada, which is my homeland. So I landed in New York
practically, well semi-illiterate in those days, the time of the dictatorship, a young
guy without work, in those days. But it really impressed me anyway, after, eight
years later, I had already read a little more, I had left Westerns and I was reading
Requiem for a Spanish Peasant and I had already progressed a little bit, I’m getting
off track now again, but, well…And I went to see the painting when it was brought to
the manor inside Buen Retiro Park. And there, honestly, it looked like quite a work,
since it spoke to me and moved me, but because someone that came with me knew
about paintings, took me to see the sketches before, the sketches, of that lady that is
there in front with her mouth open, and that put a knot in my throat…Before Pedro
Arias used to tell me that Picasso had told his father, Eugenio Arias, that there were
many labels for Guernica, that it was cubist, that it was this, it was that, a lullaby, he
says he told him, I did it from the heart, I wasn’t aware if it was cubism, cubes, frying
pans, or pitchers or bowls, and we’re the ones who put the labels onto everything
else, but, well... It’s a work that has inspired me to have a little more knowledge, to
be a little more conscious of everything that happens in the world, and well, I was
lucky to be able to be there, lying down, but excited, seeing the sketch of the lady
right there in front of you, it moved me and…and I’ve still never forgotten the first
time I saw it.
My clothes, my clothes,
I’m selling,
Who wants to buy them,
I’m selling them cheap,
For very little money,
For your freedom,
My clothes,
Who wants to buy them,
It’s not worth it
Let me give you a slave
Until I die
Eugenio Arias: Picasso was commissioned to make a poster to mark a congress held
to ask for amnesty for those imprisoned by Franco’s regime. So, Picasso told me:
“Arias, I think the best thing is to make a portrait of your mother for the poster.” I
brought him a photograph of my mother, and there is where Picasso made my
mother’s face.
Morente: One theme that we gave him…”Bandit”, the great percussionist Jose Ruiz
Moto, the bandit. Well, it’s a theme, but what is it? Oh yes, this is a theme, it’s a
theme, lyrics that we carefully created for Pablo Ruiz Picasso, also thinking all about
flamenco singing, he liked listening to the singing…he was crazy, obviously, right?
But he wouldn’t paint like that, besides liking flamenco, it was a huge problem, of
course. And listening to…what was it? “Good-bye Malaga,” one subject that we
made for Picasso thinking about great flamenco singing, about the great flamenco
singers that were so good, so extraordinary, that flavour and that light and wonder
that the wonderful Mediterranean soil has given us, such as Barcelona and Malaga.
Morente: I say it a lot, that in flamenco singing, there are no teachers, there are
disciples, there are disciples, but the singer has to be more a disciple than a teacher,
teacher.
Morente: There weren’t any, and before even less, now they’re beginning to try to
create a formula and pedagogy to be able to teach flamenco singing, but sure, I see
that’s harder than crying just for fun.
Good-bye beautiful Malaga
I’m going to travel the world
I will paint my arrow no more
Nor time on the swing
Picasso and Maria Zambrano
La Repompa and La Chaqueta
Juan Breva and Ángel de Alora
Niño de las Moras and La Cañeta
And I paint, I paint a child, innocence, colours
I will paint my arrow no more
Nor written time
That is carried with the swing’s laughter
I would rather write only words
Only words
That shall sing your name
Manolillo the blacksmith
And Chino de Arte Cuatro
Tetuan Bridge
Good flamenco singing is seen in rooms
The art of painting
Stirred by our singing
A guitar’s waist
A paintbrush’s dance
And I paint a child, I paint innocence, colours
I will paint my arrow no more
Nor written time
That is carried with the swing’s laughter
I would rather write only words
Only words
That shall sing your name
Good-bye beautiful Malaga
I’m going to travel the world
I will paint my arrow no more
Nor time on the swing
Picasso and Maria Zambrano
La Repompa and La Chaqueta
Juan Breva and Ángel de Alora
Niña de las Moras and La Cañeta
And I paint a child, I paint innocence, colours
I will paint my arrow no more
Nor written time
That is carried with the swing’s laughter
I would rather write only words
Only words
That shall sing your name
Morente: Well, to all of you, above all, have a great time, I’m going to go around and
celebrate with good health, progress in peace, in freedom, in friendship and in
tolerance, best wishes for everyone. Farewell!
Enrique Morente died one week after the end of shooting of this film.
Farewell Maestro.
In Memoriam