Резултати претраге

Lindoneia

In front of the mirror
Without anyone seeing her
Miss
Pretty, ugly
Missing Lindoneia
 
Torn apart, run over,
Dogs dead in the streets,
Police officers on the lookout
The Sun hitting the fruits
Bleeding
Oh, my love
The pain of loneliness will kill me
 
Lindoneia, with tan skin
Fruits in the marketplace
Single Lindoneia
Lindoneia, Sunday, Monday
Lindoneia missing
In church, on the andor 1
Lindoneia missing
In the laziness, in progress
Lindoneia missing
On the top charts
Oh, my love
The pain of loneliness will kill me
 
On the other side of the mirror
But missing
She appears in the photograph
Of the other side of life
 

• 1. a type of stretcher used to carry saints

Dark Woman from the Sea

Oh dark1 woman from the sea, oh me, oh, dark woman from the sea
Oh dark woman from the sea, it's me, I've just arrived
Oh dark woman from the sea
I said that I was going to return
Oh, I said that I was going to arrive,
I've arrived
Oh dark woman from the sea
I said that I was going to return
Oh, I said that I was going to arrive,
I've arrived
To please you
Oh, I brought the little fishes from the sea
Dark woman
To bewitch you,
I brought little shells from the sea
The stars of the sky
Dark woman
And the starfishes
Oh, the silver and gold pieces of Iemanjá2
Oh, the silver and gold pieces of Iemanjá
 

• 1. 'moreno' can either mean dark-skinned or dark-haired
• 2. notable orixá, the patron goddess of fishermen, she is deeply associated with water

14 years old

I was 14 years old
when my father called me
And asked me if I wanted
to study philosophy
Medicine or engineering
I had to be a doctor
But my aspiration
was to have a guitar
To become a samba musician
So then he admonished me:
'Samba musicians aren't worth anything,
in this land of doctors'
And your doctor,
my father was right
I see a samba be sold,
And the samba musician forgotten
Its true author
I am stricken with poverty,
but I won't sell
My timid samba, no sir
 

French Joana

You laugh, you lie too much
You cry, you die too much
You have the tropics
In your blood and in your skin
You moan crazy and dazed
It's already daybreak
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up
 
Make me die of laughter
Speak to me of love
Dreams and lies
I know them from afar and I know them by heart
You moan with pleasure and with terror
It's already daybreak
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up
 
Come wet my lap
I will console you
Come, tender mulatto,
To dance in my arms
Come, boy, tell me
Where your sun,
Your embers are
 
Who bewitched me
The sea, the tide, the boat
You have the perfume
Of sugarcane liquor and of sweat
You moan from sloth and warmth
It's already daybreak
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up
 

Ole, Ola

Don't cry yet, because I have a guitar
And we're going to sing
Happiness can pass and listen here
And if she is of samba she shall stay
Your priest rings the bell to make the world know
That the night is a child, that samba is a boy
That the pain is so old that it can die
Ole, ole, ole, ola
There is samba leftover, let anyone who knows how to samba
Enter the samba circle and show off their sway
But be very careful, it's not worth crying
 
Don't cry yet, because I have a reason
For you not to cry
Friend, forgive me, if I haphazardly insist
But life is good for those who sing
My pine, play loudly to wake everyone up
Don't speak of life, nor speak of death
Have pity on the girl, don't let her cry
Ole, ole, ole, ola
There is samba leftover, let anyone who knows how to samba
Enter the samba circle and show off their sway
But be very careful, it's not worth crying
 
Don't cry yet, because I have the impression
That samba is on its way
It's such an immense samba that sometimes I think
That time itself will stop to listen
Moonlight, wait a bit, so that my samba can arrive
I know that the guitar is weak, that it is hoarse
But my voice didn't grow tired of calling out
Ole, ole, ole, ola
There is samba leftover, no one wants to samba
There isn't anyone who sings anymore, nor is their any other place
The Sun arrived before the samba arrived
Who passes by doesn't care, they're going to work now
And you, my friend, can cry now
 

Tell them that I went over there

If someone asks about me
Tell them that I went over there
Carrying my guitar under my arm
I stop at any street corner
I enter into any tavern
If there is any motive
I'll just be playing another samba
If they want to know whether I am returning
Tell them yes
But only after the longing leaves me
But only after the longing leaves me
I have a guitar to accompany me
I have many friends, I am popular
I have the dawn as my companion
The longing pains me, my chest gnaws away at me
I am in the city, I am in the favela
I am over there
Always thinking about her
 
If someone asks about me
Tell them that I went over there
Carrying my guitar under my arm
I stop at any street corner
I enter into any tavern
If there is any motive
I'll just be playing another samba
If they want to know whether I am returning
Tell them yes
But only after the longing leaves me
But only after the longing leaves me
 

Slum

In a vast expanse
Where there isn't plantation
Or anyone to live there
Each poor person that passes through there
Only thinks about building their home
 
And when the first start
The others quickly look to come
Their little bit of land to live in
Then the region suffers changes
It keeps being called the 'new watercolour'
 
And the site is there
So it becomes what we call a favela