Where do you come from, gypsy? I come from Bohemia. Where do you come from, gypsy? I come from Italy. And you, beautiful gypsy, from Andalusia. And you, old gypsy, where do you come from? I come from a country that no longer exists. The horses gather along the fence, the flames shine like dust, the razors smoke. The gypsies are sitting close to the flame that throws their shadows of giants into the light. And in the night, a strange refrain rises, and in the night, the guitar's heart beats. It's the song of the wandering who have no borders, it's the burning prayer of the night of the gypsies. Where do you come from, gypsy? I come from Bohemia. Where do you come from, gypsy? I come from Italy. And you, beautiful gypsy, from Andalusia. And you, old gypsy, my friend, I'm way too old, I'm staying here. Before leaving for a new journey, towards other landscapes, on new paths, let your dream rest for a moment, before the night brings it to nothing. Chante, gypsy, ton pays de cocaïne, chante, gypsy, ton château d'Espagne. C'est le chant des errants qui n'ont pas de frontières, c'est l'ardente prière de la nuit des gypsies.