In Valencia at Christmas
the little girl throws me little oranges
but I swear that if I were to throw them
back to her love
would cause them to become blossom-bursts

On my way to a masquerade-ball I sauntered under her balcony
I saw the sun hiding mischievously in her eyes
as her dawning body frantically flung little oranges

As she knows nothing of love she thinks that everything is a joke
but I swear that if I were to throw
those little oranges back to her love
would cause them to turn back into blossom-bursts