Tag: translation

Posted in English, Portuguese

Faz-te um Homem, Rapaz (TV Rural)

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Well, who fancies a translation? I know I do. First translation of the new year. This one is a bit more poppy and upbeat than some of the ones I’ve done lately.

By the way, can anyone work out what the marioneta is saying at the start? Tell me in the comments because I’d love to know. But even the CAPLE exam setters aren’t sadistic enough to make you listen to a guy talking through a swozzle in their aural comprehension. The creator is currently working with a company called Mãozorra at the moment so if you want to know more, have a look at their site.

PortuguêsEnglish
Modera a ansiedade de te veres a eito 
faz-te calmo e bom proveito
Quando amanhã te levantares 
E achares que é natural 
Não pensares nessa mulher, então 
Tudo vai mal 		Don’t focus on yourself so much*
Calm down and enjoy yourself
When you get up tomorrow
And think it’s natural
Not to think of that woman, then
Everything goes wrong
Quando te ouvires a falar 
Mete a cabeça para dentro 
Quando te ouvires a falar 
Encolhe os ombros num lamento 
Nem penses nisso, então 
Tudo vai mal
Tudo vai mal 
Vai de mal a pior 
E essa coragem, se és capaz 
Faz-te um homem, rapaz 
Já viste o que um dia faz? 		When you hear yourself talking
Put your head inside
When you hear yourself talking
Shrug your shoulders in sorrow
So dont even think about it
Everything goes wrong
Everything goes wrong
It goes from bad to worse
And that courage, if you can
Man up, lad
Have you seen what one day can do?
E se esta noite passar 
Há-de te irritar o dia 
E se esta noite evitar 
O que a estupidez faria 
Pára com isso, então 
Tudo vai mal
Tudo vai mal 
Vai de mal a pior 
E essa coragem, se és capaz
Vá lá, faz-te um homem, rapaz
modera a ansiedade de te veres a eito 
faz-te calmo e bom proveito
Faz-te um homem, rapaz 
Já viste o que um dia faz?		And if this night passes
It’s going to irritate you all day
And if this night avoids
What stupidity will do
So stop that
Everything goes wrong
Everything goes wrong
It goes from bad to worse
Adn that courage, if you can
Go on, man up lad
Don’t focus on yourself so much*
Calm down and enjoy yourself
Man up, lad
Have you seen what one day can do?

*Really paraphrasing here – “Moderate your anxiety of seeing yourself constantly”

Posted in English, Portuguese

Vou Dar de Beber à Alegria

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Translation!

I’ve had a couple of videos (here and here) that have made reference to a song called “A Casa da Mariquinhas”. It keeps appearing in the most unexpected of places, and I am planning to do a longer blog post about the history around it, but for today, here’s another “sequel” to the song. The title “Vou dar de Beber à Alegria” is not accidental – it’s a callback to an earlier title, “Vou dar de Beber à Dor”. The reason I’m interested in this video is that I don’t understand all the dialogue in between the verses, where she’s just having bantz with the audience. I can get quite a bit of it; my favourite bit is when she fancies singing a bit more she tells her guitarist “Anda Armando!” – oh yeah, she’s in charge. But I’m definitely missing huge chunks. I found a transcript online and it’s full of footnotes, so it seemed worth writing it out and decoding all the dialogue, with a view to sharpening my listening skills

OK (Rolls up sleeves) LET’S DO THIS!

Some aspects of this don’t really make much sense and I don’t know if it’s just me or what. Like what’s the mongoose stuff all about? There’s another version by Mafalda Arnauth which is really polished and leaves out the crazy backstory and there are a couple of other tweaks too – like she says “Umas Pinguinhas” instead of “Uma Macieirazinha”, maybe because that drink isn’t well-known now and people might wonder what she was talking about.

PortugueseEnglish
[Também podia ser Yé-Yé, olha,
Lembras-te, quando a gente fazia estas paródias? Ah, ah. Ela fazia um marinheiro americano depois voltámos: Eu fiz muitos marinheiros americanos, ela fez “um marinheiro americano” e eu fiz “um marujo português”, um dueto. É um sucesso!]
Anda Armando!		It could be Yé-Yé* too, look. Remember when we used to do these parodies? She (Amália Rodrigues) was making an american sailor** and then we came back: I made lots of american sailors, she mas “An american sailor” and I made “a Portuguese Sailor”, a duet. It’s a hit!

Go for it, Armando!
Passei ontem pela rua, onde morava,
A cantada e recantada Mariquinhas,
E qual não é meu espanto,
Olho e, vejo por encanto,
Outra vez, lá na janela, as tabuinhas.
Corri e bati à porta
E até fiquei quase morta,
Quando ela se abriu p’las alminhas,
Pois, quem veio a porta abrir e a sorrir,
Era mesmo a Mariquinhas!		Yesterday I went down the road where lived
The much-sung-about Mariquinhas
And which isn’t my amazement
I look and I see by magic
Once again, in the window, the shutters.
I ran and knocked at the door
And I almost died
When it opened by a mircacle
Because who came to the door and opened it smiling
It was Mariquinhas herself!
[Ai, a Mariquinhas ‘tá uma beleza, ‘tá tão linda a Mariquinhas!
Ai que linda, ai que linda, ai que beleza!
‘Tá mais gordinha, pesa quatrocentos e cinquenta quilos,
Não é brincadeira nenhuma, que é mais que o dobro!
Mas como gordura é formosura,
Ela não se importa nada com isso.
‘Tava a comer jaquinzinhos de escabeche, quando eu apareci.
Ela assim que me viu:
– Olha a Hermínia, eh pá!
Ela sabe que eu gosto de carapaus fritos, coitadinha até fez ternura:
Tinha lá o arranjinho dela, jaquinzinhos a 320 paus o quilo.
Ela tinha lá cinco gramas, era para ela e para o «charmant», pró «Schatz»; depois apareceu esta intrusa; olha, foi à conta! O que vale é que os jaquinzinhos, é cabecinha, rabinho e tudo, vai tudo na enchurrada!]
 
Anda Armando!		Oh, Mariquinhas is a beauty, she’s so lovely, Mariquinhas!
Oh how lovely, how lovely, what beauty!
She’s a little fatter, she weighs 450 kilos,
It’s no joke, it’s more than double!
But with fatness there’s gorgeousness,
She doesn’t care about that at all
She was eating Jaquinzinhos with escabeche*** when I appeared
And as soon as she saw me:
“Hello, Hermínia, woah, man!”
She knows I like Fried mackerel, poor thing, she was even kind to me
She had her little arrangement, jaquinzinhos at 320 paus (escudos) a kilo
She had five grams, it was for her and for the “charmant”, for the “Schatz”****; then there was this intrusion; look, it was the bill!
What matters is that the Jaquizinhos, heads, tails, everything, all go in together

Go for it, Armando!
Eu entrei e abracei a Mariquinhas,
Que me contou que um senhor de falas finas
Lhe deu a casa que é sua,
Pôs o prego na rua
E correu com o tal senhor, que era lingrinhas.
Mandou caiar as paredes,
Pôr cortinas de chita
Nas janelas tão bonitas, às bolinhas.
E, por fora, p’ra chatear as vizinhas,
Janelas com tabuinhas.		I went in and hugged Mariquinhas,
Who told me that a sweet-talking man
Had given her the house that is hers
Put the nail in the road
And ran with that man, who was skinny.
She ordered the walls to be whitewashed
Put up chintz curtains
with polka-dots on the beatiful windows
And outside, to annoy the neighbours
Windows with shutters
[Bem-feita! Lá na rua, as amiguinhas ficaram todas danadas.
E um peso de quatrocentos quilos em cada ponta das tabuinhas, que era para elas não poderem deitar para lá os mirones.
Aquilo é um rés-do-chão.
Antigamente aquilo era só lá chegar, e aquilo era canja, agora quem é que pode? Aguente-se oitocentos quilos, o que ela se havia de “alimbrar*****” hein! Mas é uma belíssima rapariga!
 
Anda Armando!		Well done! There on the street, the little friends were all upset
And a weight of 400kg on each corner of the shutter so the nosey-parkers couldn’t move them aside.
That was on the ground floor
Back in the day all you had to do was walk up and it was a piece of cake, now who could do it? 800kg is sturdy enough, which she must have remembered, eh? But she was a very beautiful girl!

Go for it, Armando!
Ai, já tiraram os caixilhos às voltinhas
E as janelas já estão todas catitinhas.
E p’ra afastar os temores
E o inguiço****** dos penhores,
Defumou a casa toda com ervinhas.
Pôs incenso das igrejas
E, p’ra acabar com as invejas,
Pôs um chifre atrás da porta, às voltinhas.
E na cama, sobre a colcha feita à mão,
Ai, debruada com borlinhas.		Oh they’ve already taken away the boxes
And the windows are all looking good
And to drive away fears
And the bad luck of the debts
She fumigated the whole house with herbs
Put out church incense
And to put an end to the envy
Put a horn behind the door around about*******
And on the bed, on the handmade quilt, oh, decorated with tassels
[Ela é muito prendada.
‘Tava a fazer colcha toda em caroché
Diz que era para oferecer a mim
Para eu estrear na noite de Natal:
E tens qu’a pôr, e tens qu’a pôr, e tens qu’a pôr
Tens qu’a pôr o quê, mulher?
Tens que pôr a colcha na noite…
‘Tá bem, pronto, acabou-se!
Faltavam très dias p’rò o Natal e a colcha ainda ‘tava em meio. E ela, coitadinha, ali, à fossanga, à fossanga…
Ò mulher, pára lá com a costura! Quando entram as visitas de cerimónia assim como eu, pára-se logo com tudo!
Nós éramos aprendizas de alfaiate, quando éramos miúdas, é claro que eu não percebia nada daquilo, nem queria, eu andava a apanhar alfenetes [alfinetes], agora ela não; ela já sabia “górnecer” [guarnecer], como ela dizia. Hoje é uma boa costureira de alfaiate e eu sou vedeta! De maneira que ela faz assim um bocadinho de cerimónia comigo, então respondeu:
Ó filha, eu por acaso até nem percebo desses “protocóis” [protocolos]. Você não percebe destes proto quê?
Então aprenda, eu é que sei! “Coltura” [Cultura] é comigo, sou eu e o Pedro Homem de Melo, só, mais nada!
Uma bandida daquelas, da minha criação, a dizer «protocóis». Mas em que rimance [romance], em que rimance, é que ela aprendeu os protocóis, não foi na crónica feminina, concerteza. Eu, ali, cheia de punhos de renda, nhó, nhó, nhó, nhé, nhé, nhé, e ela, pimba, «protocóis»!
 
Anda Armando!

A colcha é linda!
É toda aos “kódrados” [quadrados] de metro e meio
Assim com rosinhas, todas em relevo; assim com cachos de uvas ferrais, pindurados assim à volta, uma fundura toda em «bois de rose»
é uma beleza! Pesa cinquenta quilos. Aquilo não é sonho, é pesadelo! Agora eu, pela escada abaixo, com cinquenta manguços às costas… Eu disse escada abaixo? Ó Irene, eu disse escada abaixo, disse?
Não é, é um rés-do-cháo!		She was very gifted.
She was making the whole quilt with crochet
She said it was to give to me
For me to use for the first time at Christmas:
And you have to put, have to put, have to put
Have to put, what, woman?
You have to put on the quilt at night
That’s fine, right, it’s finished!
It was three days before christmas and the quilt was still only half finished. And her, poor thing, there, working hard, working hard…
O woman, stop your sewing!
When they enter on cerimonial visits like me, everything stops!
We were apprentices of needlework when we were kids, it’s clear that I didn’t understand any of that and didn’t want to. I was picking up pins, but not her. She knew how to decorate, as she would say.
Today, she is a good seamstress and I’m a star! In that way she made a little ceremony with me, then replied:
Oh, daughter, I as it happens don’t know of these “protocols”. You don’t understand these proto-what?
Then learn, I’m the one who knows! Culture, that’s nmy department, me and Pedro Homem de Melo and nobody else!
One of those bandits of my creation saying “protocols”, but in what novel, in what novel did she learn “protocols”? It wasn’t in the Crónica Feminina, that’s for sure! Here I am, walking on eggshells, nhó nhó nhó nhé nhé nhé********* and her – boom! “Protocóis!”

Go for it, Armando!

the quilt is lovely!
It’s made up of squares, and a metre and a half in size
Like that, with roses, all in relief
and with bunches of iron grapes, hanging, like this around it, a background all in “rosewood” It’s a beauty! It weights 50 kilos
That’s not a dream, it’s a nightmare! Now me, down the stairs with fifty mongooses********** on my back… Did I say down the stairs? Oh Irender, I said downstairs, didn’t I? No, it’s the ground floor!
Lá está tudo, tudo, tudo, até o xaile
E a guitarra, enfeitada com fitinhas.
E sobre a cama, reparo,
Um peniquinho de barro,
Bem bonito e pintadinho com florinhas.
E eu fiquei tão contente!
E ficámos, calmamente,
A beber até de manhã, ai, ai.. uma macieirazinha,
Pois dar de beber à dor é o melhor,
Já dizia a Mariquinhas!
Pois dar de beber à dor é o melhor,
Já dizia a Mariquinhas!		There it is, everything, everything, even the shawl
And the guitar, decorated with patches
And on the bed, I notice,
A clay chamber-pot
All pretty, painted with flowers.
I was so happy
And we stayed, calmly
Drinking until morning, oh oh…
A little Macieira
Because drinking the pain away is the best
Said Mariquinhas
Because drinking the pain away is the best
Said Mariquinhas

*Yé-Yé was a style of pop music in europe in the sixties, The name derives from Yeah-Yeah used by bands like the Beatles

**I definitely feel like I’m in double-entendre territory here, but for what it’s worth in the sixties, Hermínia Silva did in fact make a record called “Marinheiro American” and another called “Marujo de Lisboa, and Amália seems to have made one called “My Love is a Sailor” but whether that’s all she’s talking about, I couldn’t speculate!

***Jaquinzinhos are baby Carapaus (horse mackerel), eaten whole, and escabeche is some sort of vinaigrette style sauce. Basically, this is tasca food, although it’s difficult to see how she got that fat off eating fish, but OK.

****French and German words equivalent to Prince Charming

*****lembrar

****** I think this must be “enguiço” – and “penhores” on the same line means objects used as collateral, but debt seems to work better in the line so I have fudged it…

*******No idea what’s going on here – but they’ve already talked about burning incense to drive out bad luck so maybe some other kind of superstitious ritual???

******** Best I can do as a translation for “punhos de renda” which means taking extreme care to avoid giving offence

********* I think this is just the sound of someone jabbering like blah blah blah…?

********** Mongooses? Is mongoose a slang word for kilogram? This is baffling!

Posted in Portuguese

Angola

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Então, ainda não falei da rainha, Cesária Évora? Tive a sorte de assistir a* um espetáculo dela em… hum… 2001, se não me engano. Naquela altura, não falava nem uma palavra de português mas mesmo se falasse não me teria ajudado porque a maior parte da obra dela está em Crioulo Cabo-Verdiano. Fomos com a tia da minha esposa. A minha esposa nasceu no Cabo Verde e viviu lá durante os seus primeiros anos, antes da família dela ter voltado para a Madeira. A cantora tinha uma maneira muito relaxada de se apresentar na sala de concertos. Não parecia ser muito animada. Só cantou de pés descalços**. Havia uma mesa no centro do palco e, durante o seu intervalo, a banda continuou a tocar enquanto ela sentou-se numa poltrona, acendeu um cigarro, deitou um pouco de vinho num copo*** e ficou tranquila, nem sequer olhando o público durante 3 ou 4 minutos até à abertura da próxima música.

Queria fazer uma tradução da sua canção “Angola”, que é empolgante, mas claro que preciso da ajuda de um português que entenda o crioulo. Roubei as letras deste site, mas acho que o homem que fez esta tradução parafraseou um pouco. Por exemplo, aquela primeira linha tem uma conjugação do verbo “viver”, sem dúvida. Acho que ela diz “Essa vida boa que os senhores estão a viver”. Existem vários sites online onde se explicam estas línguas parecidas com o português padrão – por exemplo, aqui está a descrição de “nhôs” no Infopedia . E tenho as minhas dúvidas sobre a interpretação de “Ami nhos ca ta matá-me” porque parece-me tão descabido no contexto… mas tenho de confiar no tradutor porque ele afirma que é fluente!

A música é linda. Eu não sei nada de teoria da música e se calhar, estou completamente errado, mas parece-me influenciado pela música do Brasil, com um ritmo sincopado que me lembra o**** Samba, mas é mais do que só uma cópia: muito mais. Tem um som único, e a voz dela é… Ouso dizer “ouro sobre azul”? O efeito da voz e da música é esmagador!

*I need to smack myself in the head with a frying pan a few times till I remember to put the “a” after “assistir”

**I’m only talking about the concert but I could easily have said the same about her career.

***I really screwed this sentence up – I tried to use the verb “derramar”, which isn’t even the right verb (it means spill) but then I managed to get it even wronger and wrote “derrubar”. I think deitar is the right verb even though it sounds weird – I usually associate it with laying something down or chucking it away. I also wanted to express the idea that she poured out a few sips worth, but that didn’t go any better. Hopefully this works. the easy way would be to say “encheu um copo” because why wouldn’t you want to fill it all the way up? But I was trying to be more specific than that. Sigh. This seems like a very basic thing to be confused about when I’m meant to be at C1 level.

****Not “do Samba”: “it reminds me of” doesn’t have de, whereas “i remember” does – so the preposition use is pretty much the opposite of english, really!

CrioulaPortuguêsInglês
Ess vida sabe qu’nhôs ta vivê
Parodia dia e note manché
Sem maca ma cu sabura
Angola angola
Oi qu’povo sabe
Ami nhos ca ta matá-me
‘M bem cu hora pa’me ba nha caminho
Ess convivência dess nhôs vivência
Paciência dum consequência
Resistência dum estravagância		Essa vida boa que vocês têm
Paródia dia e noite até de manhã
Sem mágoas, com alegria
Angola, Angola
Oh que povo alegre
A mim não me matam
Venho com hora para partir
A convivência na vossa vivência
Paciência duma consequência
Resistência duma extravagância		That good life you’re living
Parodies, day and night, until morning
Without pain, but with happiness
Angola, Angola
Oh what a happy people
They don’t kill me
I come when it’s time to be on the way
The way living together is a way of life
Patience of consequence
Resistance of extravagance

Thanks to Cristina of Say it in Portuguese for correcting the text description above the video.

Posted in English, Portuguese

O Pastor

Posted on by Colin Lusk

I was bowled over by Jéssica Cipriano’s version of Madredeus’s O Pastor when I watched it the other day, shortly after hearing her version of Olá Solidão. It’s so, so good. When she really cuts loose at around 4.20, my eyes were filling up and my soul left my body. I think the pianist, David Antunes, was right there with me too. Holy shit! How is this woman not a million times more famous? How do I not even see an album of hers on Spotify? How is she not smashing Eurovision? It’s some sort of conspiracy to hide her from the ears of foreigners, I reckon.

Here’s the original from the 1990 album, Existir. You can see it’s got a richer musical arrangement, and the singer’s voice is beautiful in an ethereal way. but it’s too ethereal for me, and the band has never really grabbed me for that reason, even though they were the first portuguese band I ever listened to. They remind me of bands like Clannad, the Cocteau Twins and Enya. I feel like the voice is being used as a musical instrument; there’s not much emotion there and the words don’t really matter so much so it’s hard to get into.

PortuguêsInglês
Ai que ninguém volta
Ao que já deixou
Ninguém larga a grande roda
Ninguém sabe onde é que andou		Oh, nobody goes back
To what they left
Nobody lets go of the big wheel
Nobody knows where they’ve been
Ai que ninguém lembra
Nem o que sonhou
Aquele menino canta
A cantiga do pastor		Oh nobody remembers
Not even what they dreamed
That child sings
The song of the shepherd
Ao largo
Ainda arde
A barca
Da fantasia
O meu sonho acaba tarde
Deixa a alma de vigia
Ao largo
Ainda arde
A barca
Da fantasia
O meu sonho acaba tarde
Acordar é que eu não queria		In the distance
It’s still burning
The boat
Of fantasy
My dream ends late
Leave your soul on guard
In the distance
It’s still burning
The boat
Of fantasy
My dream ends late
Waking up is what I didn’t want
Posted in English, Portuguese

Olá Solidão

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Today’s translation is from Os Quatro e Meio. Why are they called that? You’d think, wouldn’t you, that maybe there were 5 of them but one was a dog so they only count him as half because he can’t play the mandolin. But no, there are six of them. So… what, are three of them dogs? How many mandolins do they need in one band? I’ve googled it but I’ve no idea how to account for the numerical disparity* Anyway, they hail from Coimbra and they are alumni of the student music scene down there but they branched out and found themselves a following in the country as a whole. They seem very earnest young men and you can see how they’d appeal to people who like easnest young men, preferably with eyebrows and suits, and it’s a good pop song: simple, catchy and with plenty of scope to let loose on the vocals In fact, here’s Jéssica Cipriano absolutely singing the hell out of it with a very minimal musical accompaniment and it’s even better than the original. I’d never heard of her before but she has an absolutely phenomenal voice.

The translation is mostly pretty easy, although I struggled a bit with “Fiz bandeira de um velho ditado / Melhor só que mal acompanhado”. Nothing hard about it, but when I translate it the two lines didn’t seem to fit together which made me think I’d missed something and I tried experimenting with alternative meanings of “acompanhar”. For example, it’s the verb Google Mail uses when it asks if you want to follow up an email that you’ve sent and not had a reply. So I was thinking maybe “it’s only better than barely following things up….” Desparate stuff. Anyway, the punctuation makes the difference because of course “Melhor só que mal acompanhado” is the ditado mentioned in the first line. He decided to live by the idea that it’s better to go alone than in bad company

PortuguêsInglês
Eu já fui assim
Tão focado em mim
Sem querer conselhos
De ninguém
Fiz das nuvens lar
Saltei sem olhar
Crendo que no fim sairia tudo bem		I used to be like that**
So focused on myself
Without wanting advice
From anyone
I made a home in the clouds
I jumped without looking
Believing in the end it would be fine
Fiz bandeira de um velho ditado:
“Melhor só que mal acompanhado”
Nem pensava em apoiar os pés no chão
Olá, solidão
Olá, solidão		I made a flag of an old saying:
“Better alone than in bad company”
I never thought of keeping my feet on the ground
Hello solitude
Hello solitude
Eu tinha um lugar
Com vista pra o mar
Que ninguém chegou a conhecer
Voei rente ao céu
Tudo era só meu
E o que ainda não era
Iria ser		I had a place
With a sea view
That nobody ever got to know
I flew close to the sky
Everything was all mine
And whatever wasn’t yet
Was going to be
Olho em volta, agora estou sozinho
Não liguei às placas do caminho
Nem parei pra perguntar a direção
Olá, solidão
Olá, solidão		I look around, now I’m alone
I didn’t pay attention to the road signs
I didn’t stop to ask directions
Hello Solitude
Hello Solitude
Fiz bandeira de um velho ditado:
“Melhor só que mal acompanhado”
Nem pensava em apoiar os pés no chão		I made a flag of an old saying:
“Better alone than in bad company”
I never thought of keeping my feet on
Olho em volta, agora estou sozinho
Não liguei às placas do caminho
Nem parei pra perguntar a direção
Olá, solidão
Olá, solidão		I look around, now I’m alone
I didn’t pay attention to the road signs
I didn’t stop to ask directions
Hello Solitude
Hello Solitude
Eu já fui assim
Tão focado em mim
Sem querer conselhos
De ninguém		I was always like this
So focused on myself
Without wanting advice
From anyone

* EDIT: A helpful reader has suggested this web page as the source of the name: “Começámos por ser só cinco. Salvo seja, já que o Rui [Marques, contrabaixista] não tem dimensão para isso. Não é que o valor dele ano seja igual ao dos outros mas a estatura dele deixa um pouco a desejar” – I assume that “ano” is a typo for “não” or possibly “anão” heh heh

** Thanks to Liliana for suggesting I tweak the tense here (see comments below 👇)

Posted in English, Portuguese

Eu E O Meu País

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Her’s another translation – this time “Eu e o Meu País” (me and my country) by Oquestrada. It has a weird bit of anglo-french wittering at the start and I’ll just pretend that doesn’t happen. I wish I had a video of them doing it live but every one I’ve found has been shonky fan footage.

The song itself isn’t that deep either. The bit I really like is the very beginning. Freguesia is one of my favourite words for some reason, and that second line is great, plus the sense you have of her dashing around everywhere trying to hug the whole country. So that’s the only reason for the translation. If you want an objectively better video of them playing an objectively more stompy song, check this out.

PortugueseEnglish
De distrito em distrito
de freguesia em freguesia
e quando os teus braços chegam aos meus
nós somos só um, somos um só
nós somos um só, somos só um
eu e o meu país		District by district
Parish by parish
And when your arms reach mine
We are one, we are one
We are one, we are one
Me and my country
Ouvi dizer que me amavas, adoravas, entendias
ouvi dizer que me querias, me estimavas, percebias
e se à noite me sorris
de dia pouco me falas
mas se à noite me sorris
de dia pouco me falas
de dia pouco me falas		I heard you loved me, adored me, understood me
I heard you wanted me, esteemed me, noticed me
And if at night you smile at me
By day you hardly talk to me
And if at night you smile at me
By day you hardly talk to me
By day you hardly talk to me
I wanna dancing with myself
I wanna dancing with myself
e é tanta a rotunda
que já nem sei chegar a ti
neste silêncio, neste pantanal
sou turista acidental
neste anúncio, neste postal
sou turista acidental
mas e tu, tu oh tu meu país
mas e tu, tu oh tu meu país diz-me
diz-me onde ficas tu neste postal		I wanna dancing with myself
I wanna dancing with myself
And there are so many roundabouts
I don’t even know how to get to you
In this silence, in this swamp
I’m an accidental tourist
In this advertisement, in this postcard
I’m an accidental tourist
But you, you, oh you, my country
But you, you, oh you, my country
Tell me where you are on this postcard
Posted in English, Portuguese

Uns Vão Bem e Outros Mal – Fausto

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Translation time! This song is fantastic and I love it. I first heard it as a small segment, used as the theme for a podcast called Assim se faz Portugal, hosted by Maria Rueff. the singer, Fausto Bordalo Dias, known simply as Fausto, is a well-regarded artist who has been making music for decades and is still going. He released his first album 5 years before the end of the dictatorship and soon after was drafted into the colonial war in Guinea, but he was a conscientious objector, and he went on to be active politically. And it really shows in this song, from a 1977 album called Madrugada dos Trapeiros (Dawn of the ragpickers).

The song is structured using the idea of a folk dance called a Roda or “Baile Mandado” (guided dance – you can see an example here, which gives you a better idea of what the song is building on), where everyone has their place and they’re being given instructions, but instead of dance steps, what’s happening is the usual round of the poor being oppressed because they are ruled by people from a different class who don’t share their values, but “o baile vai terminar” and I guess there’s a parallel between mandador (The person who calls the intructions at the dance) and the boss, going on in the first verse especially

PortugueseEnglish
Senhoras e meus senhores,
façam roda por favor
Senhoras e meus senhores,
façam roda por favor,
cada um com o seu par
Aqui não há desamores,
se é tudo trabalhador
o baile vai começar.
Senhoras e meus senhores,
batam certos os pézinhos,
como bate este tambor
Não queremos cá opressores,
se estivermos bem juntinhos,
vai-se embora o mandador
Vai-se embora o mandador		Ladies and gentlemen,
Form a circle please
Ladies and gentlemen,
Form a circle please
Each one with their partner
There are no heartbreaks here
If everything is working
The dance will begin
Ladies and gentlemen
Stamp your feet right
in time to this drum
We don’t want oppressors here
If we’re getting on well together
The boss can leave
The boss can leave
Faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres
Folha seca cai ao chão,
folha seca cai ao chão
Eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
Que eu sou doutra condição,
que eu sou doutra condição		Do what you like
Do what you like
Do what you like
The dead leaf falls to the ground
The dead leaf falls to the ground
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
Because I’m from a different class
Because I’m from a different class
De velhas casas vazias,
palácios abandonados,
os pobres fizeram lares
Mas agora todos os dias,
os polícias bem armados
desocupam os andares
Para que servem essas casas,
a não ser para o senhorio
viver da especulação
Quem governa faz tábua rasa,
mas lamenta com fastio
a crise da habitação
E assim se faz Portugal,
uns vão bem e outros mal 		From old empty houses,
abandoned palaces
The poor make homes
But now every day
The well-armed police
Clear the floors
What are those houses good for
If not for the gentry
To live off speculation
Whoever governs makes a blank slate
But deeply regrets
the housing crisis
And thats how it goes in Portugal
Some do well and others badly
Faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres
Folha seca cai ao chão,
folha seca cai ao chão
Eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
Que eu sou doutra condição,
que eu sou doutra condição		Do what you like
Do what you like
Do what you like
The dead leaf falls to the ground
The dead leaf falls to the ground
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
Because I’m from a different class
Because I’m from a different class
Tanta gente sem trabalho,
não tem pão nem tem sardinha
e nem tem onde morar
Do frio faz agasalho,
que a gente está tão magrinha
da fome que anda a rapar
O governo dá solução,
manda os pobres emigrar,
e os emigrantes que regressaram
Mas com tanto desemprego,
os ricos podem voltar porque nunca trabalharam
E assim se faz Portugal,
uns vão bem e outros mal		So many people without work
They don’t have bread or sardines
And they don’t even have a place to live
They wrap up against the cold
Because people ate so thin
Raging with hunger
The government gives a solution
It tells the poor to emigrate
And the emigrantes that returned
But with so much unemployment
The rich can return because they never work
And thats how it goes in Portugal
Some do well and others badly
Faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres
Folha seca cai ao chão,
folha seca cai ao chão
Eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
Que eu sou doutra condição,
que eu sou doutra condição		Do what you like
Do what you like
Do what you like
The dead leaf falls to the ground
The dead leaf falls to the ground
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
Because I’m from a different class
Because I’m from a different class
E como pode outro alguém,
tendo interesses tão diferentes,
governar trabalhadores
Se aquele que vive bem,
vivendo dos seus serventes,
tem diferentes valores
Não nos venham com cantigas,
não cantamos para esquecer,
nós cantamos para lembrar
Que só muda esta vida,
quando tiver o poder
o que vive a trabalhar
Segura bem o teu par,
que o baile vai terminar		And how could anyone else,
having such different interests,
Govern the workers?
If that guy who lives well
Living off his servants
has different values
They don’t come to us with songs,
We don’t sing to forget
We sing to remember
That this life only changes
When power is held by
Those who live to work
Hold your partner tight
Because the dance is about to end
Faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres,
faz lá como tu quiseres
Folha seca cai ao chão,
folha seca cai ao chão
Eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
eu não quero o que tu queres,
Que eu sou doutra condição,
que eu sou doutra condição		Do what you like
Do what you like
Do what you like
The dead leaf falls to the ground
The dead leaf falls to the ground
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
I don’t want what you want
Because I’m from a different class
Because I’m from a different class
Posted in English, Portuguese

Lisboa Casta Princesa – Lucília do Carmo

Posted on by Colin Lusk

Here’s another song translation. This one’s a real old-school fado from Lucília do Carmo, mother of Carlos do Carmo and friend of Alfredo Marceneiro, who I’ve mentioned on here before because he sang the original Casa da Mariquinhas. I don’t know what the story of this song is but it’s from the Salazar era and it’s giving me strong Fado, Fátima, Futbol vibes.

PortugueseEnglish
Lisboa, Casta* Princesa
Que o manto da realeza
Abres com pejo
Num casto beijo
Lisboa tão linda és
Que tens de rastos aos pés
A majestade do Tejo
Lisboa das Descobertas
De tantas terras desertas
Que deram brado
No teu passado
De beleza tens a coroa
Velha Lisboa
Da Madragoa
Quantos heróis tens criado!		Lisboa, Chaste Princess
Whose royal robe
You open shyly
In a chaste kiss.
Lisboa, you’re so lovely
That you have trailing at your feet
The majesty of the Tejo.
Lisboa of the discoveries
of so many deserted** lands
That made you famous***
In your past
You have the crown of beauty
Old Lisbon
From Madragoa
So many heroes you’ve created!
Sete colinas
São teu colo de cetim
Onde as casas são boninas
Espalhadas num jardim****
E no teu seio
Certo dia foi gerado
E cantado
Pelo povo sonhador
O nosso fado		Seven hills
Are your satin skirts*****
Where the houses are beautiful
Spread out in the garden
And on your breast
Some day was brought into being
And sung
By the people who dream
Our Fado
Lisboa, tardes doiradas
Dos domingos, das toiradas
Em que luzia
A fidalguia
E em que esse sangue valente
Mostrava que havia gente
A quem a morte sorria
Lisboa, terra de fama
Tens a tristeza de Alfama
E a poesia
Da Mouraria
E nos teus velhos recantos
Eu sei lá quantos
Tu tens encantos
Dos tempos da valentia!		Lisboa, golden afternoons
Of Sundays, of bullfights
In which shone
The nobility
And in which that brave blood
Showed that there were people
Who smiled at death
Lisboa, famous land
You have the sadness of the Alfama
And the poetry
Of the Mouraria
And in your old corners
I don’t know how many
You have enchantments
Of the times of bravery

* Casta can mean “caste” is it’s a noun, but I think this is an adjective: the feminine form of “casto”

** 🤔

***Brado can also mean “a shout” but I don’t think that makes sense, given teh following line, so assume this is what she means.

****This is the lyric I found for this song but I’m pretty sure she says “espalhado em jardins”

*****It’s weird that this one word, colo can mean two completely different parts of the body, but hey ho. I’ve taken it as meaning the skirts arranged on a lap, because we don’t really have a word for the top part of a woman’s chest, above the breast, and I’m not writing “breast”. Anyway, a breast is mentioned a few lines later – how many breasts do you need, people? Her son is always singing about them too!

Posted in English, Portuguese

O Leilão da Casa da Mariquinhas

Posted on by Colin Lusk

I saw this in the same compilation as yesterday’s. The style is a bit lighter. The singers are Fernando Maurício (left) and Francisco Martinho (right). For me, the best thing is the staring match between the guy on the portuguese guitar and the guy on the vanilla guitar. Neither of those lads is backing down.

The song seems to date from the thirties or forties, when a song with a similar name – A Casa da Mariquinhas – was written by João Silva Tavares and sung by Alfredo Marceneiro. It tells the story of a house with shutters on the windows, which we are meant to understand is a brothel, and it was so popular it inspired a whole lot of similar songs about whorehouses. This is one, and it talks about the auction held after the closure of the house. Oh no! So I’ve listened to the sequel without hearing the original!

There’s a lot more background on this page if you want to know more.

PortugueseEnglish
Ninguém sabe dizer nada
Da formosa Mariquinhas*
A casa foi leiloada
Venderam-lhe as tabuinhas		Nobody knew how to say anything
About the beautiful Mariquinhas
The house was auctioned
They even sold the shutters
Ainda fresca e com gajé
Encontrei na Mouraria
A antiga Rosa Maria
E o Chico do Cachené
Fui-lhes falar, já se vê
E perguntei-lhes de entrada
Pela Mariquinhas, coitada		Still cool and with swagger
I met in the Mouraria
Old lady Rosa Maria
And Chico do Cachené
I went to speak to them, as you see
And asked them right away
About poor Mariquinhas
Respondeu-me o Chico: E vê-la?
Tenho querido saber dela
Ninguém sabe dizer nada
As outras suas amigas
A Clotilde, a Júlia, a Alda
A Inês, a Berta, a Mafalda
E as outras mais raparigas
Aprendiam-lhe as cantigas
As mais ternas, coitadinhas
Formosas como andorinhas
Olhos e peitos em brasa
Que pena tenho da casa
Da formosa Mariquinhas!		And Chico replied: And to see her?
I was wanting to know about her
Nobody knew how to say anything
Her other friends
Clotilde, Júlia, Alda
Inês, Berta, Mafalda
And some other girls
They learned her songs
The most tender ones, poor things
Beautiful as swallows
Eyes like black coals
I feel such pity for the house
Of beautiful Mariquinhas
Então o Chico apertado
Com perguntas, explicou-se
A vizinhança zangou-se
Fez um abaixo-assinado
Diziam que havia fado
Ali, até madrugada
E a pobre foi intimada
A sair; foi posta fora
E por mor duma penhora
A casa foi leiloada		Then Chico, eager
To ask questions, explained
The neighbourhood got angry
And started a petition
They said there was fado
There until the small hours
And the poor woman was summoned
To leave; she was put out
And for the sake of a foreclosure
The house was auctioned
O Chico fora ao leilão
Arrematou a guitarra
O espelho, a colcha com barra
O cofre-forte e o fogão		Chico, outside the auction
Bid for the guitar
The mirror, the striped duvet
The safe and the stove
Como não houve cambão
Porque eram coisas mesquinhas
Trouxe um par de chinelinhas
O alvará e as bambinelas
E até das próprias janelas
Venderam-lhe as tabuinhas		Since there was no change
because they’re trivial things
He took a pair of slippers
The license and the awning
And from the windows themselves
They sold him the shutters

Mariquinhas seems to be a woman’s name here, but generally speaking mariquinhas is a diminutive of maricas, meaning sissy or effeminate, so probably to be used with care.

Posted in English, Portuguese

Vida Vivida – Argentina Santos

Posted on by Colin Lusk

I saw this one in a compilation video and I’d never heard of the fadista but I thought it would make a good transation. And holy shit it’s heavy! Not the music, obviously, but the sentiment is raw and real. I don’t think it would even make sense sung by anyone younger than she is. It’s emo music for the older generation.

PortugueseEnglish
Volta atrás vida vivida
Para eu tornar a ver
Aquela vida perdida
Que nunca soube viver		Come back, life lived
So I’ll see again
That lost life
I never knew how to live
Voltar de novo quem dera
A tal tempo, que saudade
Volta sempre a primavera
Só não volta a mocidade		If only I could go back again,
to such a time, what sadness
Spring always returns
Just not youth
A vida começa cedo
Mas assim que ela começa
Começamos por ter medo
Que ela se acabe depressa		Life starts early
But as soon as it starts
We start fearing
That it will end soon
O tempo vai-se passando
E a gente vai-se iludindo
Ora rindo ora chorando
Ora chorando ora rindo		Time keeps passing
People keep deceiving themselves
Either laughing or crying
Either crying or laughing
Meu deus, como o tempo passa
Dizemos de quando em quando
Afinal, o tempo fica
A gente é que vai passando		My god, how time passes
We say, from time to time
But really, time stays
It’s the people who pass by

*