I came across this quotation by Adília Lopes in a video discussion between Bruno Nogueira, Miguel Esteves Cardoso And Rita Blanco (respectively, a comedian, a journalist/writer and an actress). It’s from a book called Bandolim and I’m not sure but I think it might be a whole poem. “Os ricos são foleiros”. I didn’t recognise the word “foleiro”, which is why I started looking at it more closely. A foleiro is someone who makes or sells “foles”. What is a fole? A leather bag, a device for squeezing air into an organ, a bellows, the bag part of a bagpipe (“gaita-de-foles”) or the interior of an accordion… You get the idea. It’s windy. But foleiro, informally, can also mean ordinary, bad quality, shabby, corny… that kind of thing. It’s the fourth definition in priberam.
Adília Lopes
So the general gist of the ‘poem’ is that the rich are corny, uninteresting and not really worthy of admiration; they just know about money. Well, I can’t argue. Like all extremely true things, it isn’t true, or at least not always but it feels like a good, satisfying, sweeping generalisation and if you’ve ever spent any time reading the twitter feeds of certain silicon valley gazillionaires you’ll know what she’s driving at.
Translation time! This one is a classic fado, which is mentioned in the book I reviewed the day before yesterday. It also gives us some insight into the Portuguese language’s radical commitment to singular verb endings for collective nouns. The video is majestic and well worth watching, even with the sound off, for the glances between the guitarist and the guy on the guitarra portuguesa. I’d love to know what was going on between them. The song itself is written by Amália but it is really more of an adaptation of a longer poem called “Povo” by Pedro Homem de Mello.
First of all, I think we’re meant to envision people washing their clothes in the river, rather than skinnydipping, in case that’s not obvious! But let’s focus in on how she refers to the noun “povo” here. I’ve highlighted the relevant words in the first verse. As you can se, she’s addressing the “povo” (the people – especially the simple, common people) as “Tu”. In other words, she’s addressing them all, collectively, using the form normally reserved for one singular person who’s familiar to the speaker.
This was really jarring to me. Of course, it’s not that hard to find people referring to “a gente” using third person singular pronouns – I wrote about this a couple of months back – and the portuguese generally take a firmer line on treating the collective as one singular entity (as opposed to using words like eles/them) than we would in english. But to see her speaking directly to the people like this and just address the whoel population like it was her little sister is quite a cultural leap, at least for me.
Povo que lavas no rio
People who wash in the river
Povo que lavas no rio Que talhas com teu machado As tábuas do meu caixão Povo que lavas no rio Que talhas com teu machado As tábuas do meu caixão
Pode** haver quem te defenda Que compre o teu chão sagrado Mas a tua vida não
People who wash in the river Who cut with your axe The boards for my coffin* People who wash in the river Who cut with your axe The boards for my coffin
There might be people who defend you Who buy your sacred land But not your life
Fui ter à mesa redonda Beber em malga que esconda Um beijo de mão em mão Fui ter à mesa redonda Beber em malga que esconda Um beijo de mão em mão
Era o vinho que me deste Água pura, fruto agreste Mas a tua vida não
I ended up at the round table*** To drink from a bowl that hides A kiss from hand to hand I ended up at the round table To drink from a bowl that hides A kiss from hand to hand
It was the wine you gave me Pure water, wild fruit But not your life
Aromas de urze e de lama Dormi com eles na cama Tive a mesma condição Aromas de urze e de lama Dormi com eles na cama Tive a mesma condição
Povo, povo eu te pertenço Deste-me alturas de incenso Mas a tua vida não
Scents of heather and dirt I slept with them in the bed I was in the same condition. Scents of heather and dirt I slept with them in the bed I was in the same condition.
People, people, I belong to you You gave me moments of incense**** But not your life
Ai, povo que lavas no rio Que talhas com teu machado As tábuas do meu caixão Povo que lavas no rio Que talhas com teu machado As tábuas do meu caixão
Há-de haver quem te defenda Quem compre o teu chão sagrado Mas a tua vida não
People who wash in the river Who cut with your axe The boards for my coffin People who wash in the river Who cut with your axe The boards for my coffin
There might be people who defend you Who buy your sacred land But not your life
*=Could this be more emo?
**=Some versionf oe the lyrics use “ha-de” in place of “pode” but this seems to be teh version she’s singing in the video above. I’m pretty sure the há-de version is taken from Dulce Pontes’ rendition.
***=What’s the word “ter” doing here? According to priberam “ir ter a” is a compound verb meaning the same as “ir dar a” or “ir parar a” – um… OK, I’m none the wiser… but according to the Guia Prático de Verbos Com Preposições, that means “terminar em” or “desembocar”. So basically, to lead to something, to end up at something. Hence “ended up at”
****=I must admit, I got confused about this since the incense reference seemed a bit random, and I was trying to make sense of it by looking at alternative meanings of that word. Figuratively, it can mean praise or subservience, but I think I was overthinking it because it looks like she’s just referring to the smells at the top of the verse. OK, right, that makes sense!
Here’s an interesting thing I saw on Instagram and thought would be a good topic to talk about. It’s about the subtle difference of meaning between the portuguese word “colaborador” and the English equivalent “collaborator”. Thanks to Talures for the help with this one.
Uma amiga publicou uma foto da sua lapela com um distintivo que dizia
Colaborador Trabalhador.
Não percebi o significado, porque o cognato inglês de “colaborador” é usado geralmente para traidores que colaboram* com os invasores que ocuparam o seu país nativo. Mas ela explicou e eu li uma página sobre o assunto. Colaborador é uma espécie de jargão corporativo. Algumas empresas nomeiam os empregados de colaboradores, porque trabalhador tem uma conotação de trabalho manual nas fábricas e nas quintas.
Mas há quem não goste da palavra, porque disfarça a relação entre empregador e empregado. Como a minha amiga disse “para fazer passar a ideia que os trabalhadores também são parte da empresa”.
Não é comigo, porque não trabalho numa empresa portuguesa, mas de forma geral, ainda que não goste destas gírias que crescem como um fungo nas reuniões de negócios, não acho assim tão problemático trabalhadores se sentirem parte da empresa – até certo ponto. Desde que a empresa não seja má.
*The corrector suggested changing this to past tense to match the verb later in the sentence but although I can see that’d normally be the right call, I don’t think I agree on this specific case. For example you could imagine a Ukrainian collaborating (present tense) with Russians who invaded (past tense) the country. As she pointed out, it’s probably better to avoid the ambiguity by making it simpler and eliminating the extra verb: “Pessoas que colaboram com os agressores do seu país” or something like that.
Não é colaborador,é trabalhador. Não é dispensado,é despedido. Não é rescisão amigável,é despedimento colectivo. Não é lay-off,é lock-out. Não é flexibilidade,é precariedade. Não é adaptabilidade,é trabalho não pago. Não é modernidade,é exploração. Não é novilíngua, é ideologia. pic.twitter.com/qNIY0oMgom
I’m pretty sure I’ve at least mentioned this song before because it’s so great, but I’ve never got around to doing a translation of it. Amália Rodrigues is an interesting character in her own right, and she’s had a huge influence on musicians, both traditional and avant-garde. This song is about a woman who’s lost her husband at sea and she’s sleeping on the beach waiting for him to come home and feeling like he’s still with her somehow even though everyone tells her its hopeless.
Thank you very much, Monsieur Trenet
Barco Negro (Black Boat)
Portuguese
English
De manhã, que medo que me achasses feia Acordei tremendo deitada na areia Mas logo os teus olhos disseram que não E o sol penetrou no meu coração Mas logo os teus olhos disseram que não E o sol penetrou no meu coração
In the morning, so scared that you’d find me ugly I woke up shaking, lying on the sand But then your eyes told me no And the sun penetrated my heart But then your eyes told me no And the sun penetrated my heart
Vi depois numa rocha uma cruz E o teu barco negro dançava na luz Vi teu braço acenando entre as velas já soltas Dizem as velhas da praia que não voltas
Then I saw a cross on a rock And your black boat was dancing in the light I saw your arm waving between the loose sails The old women at the beach say you’ll never come home
São loucas! São loucas! Eu sei meu amor, que nem chegaste a partir Pois tudo em meu redor me diz Que estás sempre comigo Eu sei, meu amor, que nem chegaste a partir Pois tudo em meu redor me diz Que estás sempre comigo
They’re crazy! They’re crazy! I know, my love that you never even left Because everything around me tells me That you’re always with me I know, my love that you never even left Because everything around me tells me That you’re always with me
No vento que lança areia nos vidros Na água que canta no fogo mortiço No calor do leito dos bancos vazios Dentro do meu peito estás sempre comigo No calor do leito dos bancos vazios Dentro do meu peito estás sempre comigo
In the wind that throws sand against the windows In the water that sings, in the dying fire In the bed of empty benches In my breast, you’re always with me In the bed of empty benches In my breast, you’re always with me
Eu sei, meu amor, que nem chegaste a partir Pois tudo em meu redor me diz Que estás sempre comigo Eu sei, meu amor, que nem chegaste a partir Pois tudo em meu redor me diz Que estás sempre comigo
I know, my love that you never even left Because everything around me tells me That you’re always with me I know, my love that you never even left Because everything around me tells me That you’re always with me
I posted a music video yesterday, and I’ve got a few more lined up. This one doesn’t really ave any lyrics though, so consider it a palate cleanser. Orelha Negra are portuguese band and they’ve put one of their chilled-out tracks over some footage of Vhils doing his craxy explosive artworks. I’ve talked about Vhils before a couple of times and I quite like the effect of combining the two art forms in one.
I had another go at making this “bread soup” and managed, I think, not to disgrace myself as badly as last time.
I followed a recipe on YouTube and I used some higher-quality bread. It was only sourdough so could have been better still, but it was better than the crappy bread I used last time. And I used slightly vinegary water from the egg poaching instead of chicken stock.
Verdict: 7/10. I liked it, anyway.
And here’s a bunch of lads singing about it. It’s a roundabout way of doing it but he’s actually pretty much singing the recipe. Lyrics here if (like me) you have trouble tuning in to what he’s saying.
Fiz mais uma tentativa de fazer açorda à alentejana. Desta vez, usei pão melhor e segui a receita rigorosamente. O resultado… Provavelmente não ficou perfeito mas não me senti envergonhado quando experimentei a primeira colherada.
I did a Tiago Bettencourt translation the other day, so let’s have a go at “Morena” too, not becaue it’s my favourite song of his, but because it has some nice guitar work.
Trigger Warning: Scrabble Crimes
OK, potentially controversial decision: I’m translating “Morena” as “Brunette”, because that’s the closest I can get to a literal translation. It’s not quite right though, for two reasons. Firstly, there’s a sense of the person’s skin being tanned or olive-toned as well as their hair being dark brown; and secondly, I think referring to women as blondes, brunettes, redheads has a slightly disrespectful tone in english (at least in some circles) and I think that’s less true in portuguese. That’s partly a linguistic thing: in Portuguese it’s more usual to use an adjective as a noun – for example “um inglês” not “um homem inglês” – and partly because we have a tendency to overthink things in the english-speaking world, especially a certain very large country situated a few hundred miles north of Brazil. Anyway, with that dislcaimer, let’s crack on.
Portuguese
English
Esta morena não sabe O que o dia tem para lhe dar Diz-me que tem namorado Mas sem paixão no olhar Tem um risinho pequeno E que só dá de favor Corpo com sede de quente Mas que não sente calor Mas que não sente calor
Esta morena não dança Quando lhe mostro Jobim Talvez não goste da letra Talvez não goste de mim Cabelo negro sem regra Caindo em leve ombro nu Feito de morno passado E amor que nunca cegou E amor que nunca cegou
Morena no fundo quer Tempo para ser mulher Morena não sabe bem Mas eu no fundo sei Que quando o véu lhe cai Quando o calor lhe vem Sempre que a noite quer Sonha comigo também
Há sítios que ela não usa Por não saber que estão cá Há mares que ela não cruza Por não ser eu a estar lá É de mim que ela precisa Para lhe dar o que não quer Talvez lhe mostre caminhos Onde se queira perder Onde se queira perder
Esta morena não chora Com um fado negro de Oulman Nem com um poema de O’Neill Na primeira luz da manhã Sabe de tantos artistas Canta-me letras de cor Mas não lhe passam por dentro Não lhes entende o sabor Não lhes entende o sabor
Morena no fundo quer Tempo para ser mulher Morena não sabe bem Mas eu no fundo sei Que quando o véu lhe cai Quando o calor lhe vem Sempre que a noite quer Sonha comigo também
Esta morena não corre Quando a chamo para mim
This brunette doesn’t know What the day has to give her She tells me she has a boyfriend But without any passion in her eyes She has a little laugh That she only gives as a favour Body that thirsts for warmth But doesn’t feel heat But doesn’t feel heat
This brunette doesn’t dance When I show her Jobim Maybe she doesn’t like the lyrics Maybe she doesn’t like me Black, unruly hair Falling on a light, naked shoulder Made by boredom gone by And love that never blinded her And love that never blinded her
Deep down, the brunette wants Time to be a woman The brunette doesn’t really know But deep down, I know That when her veil falls When the warmth comes back to her Whenever the night chooses She dreams of me* too.
There are places she doesn’t use Because she doesn’t know they’re here There are seas she doesn’t cross Because I’m not there It’s me she needs To give her what she doesn’t want Maybe I’ll show her paths Where she wants to lose herself Where she wants to lose herself
This brunette doesn’t cry with the dark fado of Oulman Nor with the poetry of O’Neill In the first light of morning She knows so many artists She sings me lyrics by heart** But they don’t get inside her She doesn’t understand their flavour She doesn’t understand their flavour
Deep down, the brunette wants Time to be a woman The brunette doesn’t really know But deep down, I know That when her veil falls When the warmth comes back to her Whenever the night chooses She dreams of me too.
This brunette doesn’t run When I call her to me
*= Remember “sonha comigo” might look like “dreams with me” – implying they are sleeping together – but it means “dreams of me”, which is a different kettle of fish! One of those instances where the use of prepositions can give you a slightly different mental image if you’re not careful.
**= Letras “de cor” sounds like it should mean colourful lyrics but there’s an older meaning of cor that is the same as coração, so it’s just like the english expression “knowing something by heart”
Yesterday’s post was about the strange case of Fernando Pessoa’s advertising slogan for Coca Cola in 1927. As I mentioned, there seem to be a few different perspectives on the motives of the people involved, but I don’t think the facts of the matter are in doubt.
Anyway, it turns out that there’s a short movie about the incident. It’s made by a French company but it’s in portuguese with English subtitles. Someone’s put it on Facebook. Hurry though, it might not be there forever. It’s a good length and very easy to follow, so I can recommend it even if your listening skills are underdeveloped.
The film has a slightly playful, surreal tone. The name of the drink os given as “Coca Louca” and it translates the slogan as “First you’re surprised, then you’re possessed”, then plays with that idea of possession by showing the minister for health convinced that the drink contains evil demons which need to be cast out by an exorcist with a bottle opener in the shape of a crucifix!
It also depicts the poet not as Pessoa himself but as Álvaro de Campos, one of the heteronyms, who appears in the film as a separate person, looking just like the man himself.
As a result of a recent conversation about racism (following on from a book I read – there’ll be a review here in a day or two) a Brazilian guy on reddit pointed me to an account on Instagram called brasileirasNaoSeCalam. It’s basically one of these accounts that seeks to ginger people up for a particular cause by telling you how absolutely terrible everything is. In this case, quite a lot of the posts are just quotations from Brazilians in other countries recounting times they were victims of racism. The vast majority of them are in Portugal.
It’s quite interesting from a sociological point of view because of course there are racists in every country and knowing what kinds of stereotypes people have about each other tells you something interesting about the country. There is definitely racism against Brazilians in Portugal. I’ve seen videos and I have spoken to people who have some really unpleasant views about them all being thieves and whores, but I’m a bit unclear about the extent of that racism and I’m curious to know more.
But just as there is racism in every country, microaggressions (ie perceived slights which are held to be evidence of a deep seated hostility) are everywhere too, mainly thanks to the steady creep of absolutely terrible ideas from the USA. And my sense is that a lot of these posts fall under that heading. And in a way, that’s interesting in itself because learning what people see as a microaggression can tell you something about the shape of paranoia in a particular demographic. Take this for example:
(I’m doing an online course and my teacher always turns up with two video options for us to watch: one in Brazilian and one in English “for anyone who doesn’t like Brazilian”
From the comments, the reason for the complaint is that some people find the use of “brasileiro” in place of “português de Brasil” to be evidence of hatred, and the fact that she thinks some people might prefer to hear a foreign language rather than a São Paulo accent just adds insult to injury. This seems a little over-sensitive, but more importantly, I think it’s pretty obvious that there are plenty of alternative explanations for why English is being offered alongside Brazilian. For example, Portugal has a pretty good record of welcoming refugees and asylum seekers from Syria, Venezuela and Ukraine, among others. It must be a hard transition for those people to make given how much harder it is to learn portuguese than English. Of course it’s not practical to have videos in every language, but English is practically a universal esperanto these days, and it seems very likely that someone who is still struggling to learn portuguese might find it easier to follow an English language video than one that is in a strong, unfamiliar accent.
The irony is I think the teacher is being unfairly accused of racism just because they are making the course more accessible for all immigrants, and not exclusively catering to the needs of oversensitive Brazilians. Quite a lot of the quotes on the site are in the same vein: they’re minor or open to more charitable interpretation or just frankly unlikely-sounding.
Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely some real racist incidents on there, but I get the impression it’s one of those accounts where all the followers want to tell their victimhood story and the net effect is that it becomes a huge echo chamber and everyone inside is in a state of constant fear and rage, way out of proportion to the real situation. I’d love to find some good journalism on the subject though. When I say good journalism I mean (a) uses data competently and thoughtfully and (b) doesn’t pepper their narrative with the word ‘privilege’.
I’ve heard the word “Beto” or its diminutive, “Betinho”, being used a few times as a sort of derrogatory word for a rich, posh person – someone the kids today would call privileged. I think I first came across it in 1986 A Série but didn’t really wonder where it came from. Apparently it’s from the early eighties when a Brazilian Telenovela called Dancing Days first aired on portuguese TV. There was a character in that called Beto, who was the son of well-off parents. He was played by Lauro Corona. The series aired in the late seventies and made its way to Portugal in the early eighties, so it still would have been quite a new word in 1986 when Nuno Markl puts it into the mouths of his protagonists.
Anyway, here’s a clip from the original series. It has strong eighties vibes to me, but I guess these trends don’t fit precisely into decades, do they?
Luso 