The lyrics of this one remind me of X-Ray Spex: the idea that consumer society means everything – and everybody – is plastic and disposable. I can’t say I enjoyed it as much as X-Ray Spex, unfortunately, but each to their own. Chiclete is one of those annoying words that’s feminine in European Portuguese and masculine in Brazilian Portuguese. I think “Pastilha Elástica” is a more common way of describing chewing gum, but I guess it doesn’t sound as good in the song, so here we are!
Portuguese
English
E como tudo o que é coisa que promete A gente vê como uma chiclete Que se prova, mastiga e deita fora, sem demora Como esta música é produto acabado Da sociedade de consumo imediato Como tudo o que se promete nesta vida, chiclete
And like everything promising We see it like a chiclet That can be tasted, chewed and thrown away without delay Like this song is a finished product Of a consumer society Like everything promising in this life, chiclet
E nesta altura e com muita inquietação Faço um reparo e quero abrir uma excepção Um casse-tete* nunca será não, chiclete Pra que tudo continue sem parar Fundamental levar a vida a dançar Nesta vida que tanto promete, chiclete
And right now, and with a lot of agitation I make a correction and I want to make an exception It will never be a puzzle, chiclet So that everything continues without stopping It’s essential to go through life dancing In this life that promises so much, chiclet
E como tudo o que é coisa que promete A gente vê como uma chiclete Que se prova, mastiga e deita fora, sem demora Como esta música é produto acabado Da sociedade de consumo imediato Como tudo o que se promete nesta vida, chiclete
And like everything promising We see it as a chiclet That can be tasted, chewed and thrown away without delay Like this song is a finished product Of a consumer society Like everything promising in this life, chiclet
I’m in a translation mood again, and this one is a more traditional number: Lisboa, Menina e Moca by legendary fadista Carlos do Carmo. It’s pretty well known, and I hear it very often, so this is one of those songs to be aware of. The title is literally “Lisbon, Girl and Young Woman”, and he’s basically talking to the city as if it it was a girl and he was trying to – as the young folk say – rizz it up. It strikes me as a tiny bit cringe, but maybe that’s my cultural perspective. Let’s dive into the lyrics and see what it’s like. The version I’ve chosen is from an appearance on The Voice Portugal, and it’s notable because he breaks off part-way through to tell the young people in teh audience to stop clapping because it’s fado, not rock, which is a classic old dude move. That’s enough of your malarkey, Jack!
Portuguese
English
No Castelo ponho um cotovelo Em Alfama descanso o olhar E assim desfaço o novelo de azul e mar Á Ribeira encosto a cabeça Almofada da cama do Tejo Com lençóis bordados à pressa na cambraia dum** beijo
I put one of my elbows on the castle I rest my gaze on the Alfama And like that, I undo the knot* of blue and sea I lean my head on the Ribeira The pillow on the bed of the Tejo With hastily-embroidered sheets, in the cambric of a kiss
Lisboa, menina e moça***, menina Da luz que os meus olhos vêem, tão pura Teus seios são as colinas, varina**** Pregão que me traz à porta, ternura Cidade a ponto-luz, bordada Toalha á beira-mar, estendida Lisboa, menina e moça, amada Cidade mulher da minha vida
Lisboa, girl and woman, girl By the light my eyes see, so pure Your breasts are he hills, sea lady The call that brings me to the door, tenderness CIty with points of light, emroidered Towel by the seashore, stretched out Lisbon, girl and woman, loved City, woman of my life
No Terreiro eu passo por ti Mas na Graça eu vejo-te nua Quando um pombo te olha, sorri, és mulher da rua E no bairro mais alto***** do sonho Ponho um fado que soube inventar Aguardente de vida e medronho******, que me faz cantar
On the Terreiro, i pass by you But in Graça, I see you naked When a pigeon sees you, it smiles, you are a woman of the road And in the highest suburb of the dream I give you a fado that I knew how to invent Brandy made of life and fruit that makes me sing
Lisboa no meu amor, deitada Cidade por minhas mãos, despida Lisboa, menina e moça, amada Cidade mulher da minha vida
Lisboa on my love, laid City by my hands, undressed Lisbon, girl and woman, loved City, woman of my life
*Novelo usually means a ball of thread or a cotton reel, but can mean a complicated thing, so I’m thinking he’s talking about a knot that he’s undoing, rather than a cotton reel – it just seems to make more sense in the context but I could be wrong.
**I couldn’t make any sense of this and thought he was saying “dei um beijo”, but that ain’t it chief! He’s just comparing the lightness of a kiss to the lightness of the material. There’s an explanation of all this needlework metaphhor here if you want to know more.
***I’m, translating moça as woman, not young woman, because I think it sounds better. FIght me! By the way, Menina e Moca is also the name of an early portuguese novel by Bernadim Ribeiro. Maybe there’s a link?
****Eesh! How to translate this? I think he’s saying she’s a woman who lives by the side of the sea – the second meaning given on Priberam – and that woudl make a certain amount of sense.
*****Referring to the Bairro Alto neighbourhood, of course, a wretched hive of wine and fadory if ever there was one
Lena D’Agua is a singer who seems to have been around since the seventies and was a member of a truly unmemorable eurovision band back in the glory days of 1978, but what drew my attention to her is that her latest album was largely written by Pedro Da Silva Martins, who wrote a lot of Deolinda’s best stuff when they wre around. I don’t think it’s quite up to Deolinda standards, but it’s pretty good. Have a listen! The video is a bit cringe though so feel free to look somewhere else while you’re at it. I don’t go to many parties, but if that’s what they are like, I don’t think I’m missing much.
Portuguese
English
Inda* vou ganhar o Festival Com uma canção de macramé Hei de fazer capa num jornal A pavonear um jacaré**
I’m still going to win the festival With a macramé song I’ll probably make the headlines Showing off to an alligator
Espero que te caia a boca ao chão Q’eu estou pronta para a grande festa E tu de charuto e roupão Com um arpão espetado na testa
I hope your jaw hits the floor because I’m ready for the big party And you with your cigar & fancy clothes With a harpoon stuck in your forehead
Espero ainda ser um furacão Ter uma cintura de ballet A arrastar as joias pelo chão Acenar de um porsche com chofer
I still hope to be a hurricane To have a ballet waist To drag jewelry across the floor To wave from a chauffer-driven porsche
Espero que te caia a boca ao chão Q’eu estou pronta para a grande festa E tu de charuto e roupão Com um arpão espetado na testa
I hope your jaw hits the floor because I’m ready for the big party And you with your cigar & fancy clothes With a harpoon stuck in your forehead
Espero ainda ter algo carnal Na minha poltrona de chalé Matar esta fome canibal Qu’eu ando tão farta de café
I still hope to have something carnal In the armchair at my chalet To satisfy this cannibal hunger Becaue I’m so tired of coffee
Espero que te caia a boca ao chão Qu’eu estou pronta para a grande festa E tu de charuto e roupão Com um arpão espetado na testa
I hope your jaw hits the floor because I’m ready for the big party And you with your cigar & fancy clothes With a harpoon stuck in your forehead
Espero que te caia a boca ao chão Qu’eu estou pronta para a grande festa E tu de charuto e roupão Com um arpão espetado na testa Estou pronta para a grande festa
I hope your jaw hits the floor because I’m ready for the big party And you with your cigar & fancy clothes With a harpoon stuck in your forehead I’m ready for the big party
* Seems just to be a shortened form of Ainda
** OK, the translation makes no sense. There are a couple of alternative explanations according to the Dicionario Informal: I think the most likely one is that she’s talking about cigarettes, since that’s quite a strong motif in the video, so maybe she’s on the front of the newspapers posing with a fag? But there are a few alternative definitions that she could be referring to. Giving an ugly woman a makeover? Posing with a patient who’s been waiting a long time for an operation???
I posted a rap featuring Sam the Kid a while ago, but I need to prove I’m down with the kids, so here’s another! I think last time I used too many asterisks, so I’ll try and use links where I can this time.
This one is called “Também Faz Parte”. The first verse, by Sam the Kid himself, is really hard and I suspect I am getting quite a bit of it wrong. Mundo Segundo’s verse is much easier to follow.
Portuguese
English
(Sam the Kid) Quando a vida ficar vazia, faz ela virar poesia O passado passou ‘pa trás, o teu prazo passou num dia O fracasso tá ali na porta, quase dormiu na merda Ele passa uma vida morta, e abraça que é o fim da meta É o massacre que só humilha, cansado que o sol não brilha Arrasado e ele só dormia a pensar abraçar a filha E os homens levam-me os tropas Boy, na zona é só desfalques Paka limpa só funciona noutros palcos Gravatas invisiveis não querem mais milionários E tornam impossíveis cenários imaginários Mas não tiram minha mística, sou atração turística Desmistifico quem pensa que em bairros só há marginais, todos iguais Por mais que inoves, a tua sina é ser da mesma escória E putos trazem uma visão nova para a mesma história Pais falidos fazem mais bandidos Quem patrocina agora a casa é o filho de pais maridos Um gajo na boa vem Ramona, a gente “esfaina” Na estrada, a gente espalha a zona, a gente “shaina” A judiciária que espreita por ‘tar na área É suspeita a missão diária para ver toda a nossa área desfeita Novas doutrinas, que alteram rotinas à procura de vidas londrinas Um boy obrigado a ter emigrado e o bairro ainda é unido e bravo Onde eu gravo o meu vídeo, agrado o passado p’ra no futuro ser lembrado Esse é o meu fado
(Sam the Kid) When life is empty, turn it into poetry The past is gone behind, your goal passed in a day Weakness is there at the door, almost asleep in the shit He lives a dead life and embraces the end It’s the massacre that only humiliates, tired because the sun isn’t shining Devastated and he was only asleep, dreaming of hugging his daughter And men bring their crew to me Homeboy, in the neighbourhood, there’s only the hustle Too clean only works on other stages Invisible neckties don’t want more millionaires And make imaginary scenarios impossible But they don’t take my music, I’m a tourist attraction I demystify anyone who thinks that in the neighbourhood there are only marginalised people, all the same No matter how much you innovate, your destiny is to be the same scum And kids bring a new vision for the same story Skint parents make more criminals The person protecting the house now is the child of married parents A cool guy, here comes a police car, the people “It’s fine“* In the street, the people spread out, the people “Shine!” The Judicial Police that look to be in the area It’s suspicious , the daily mission to see our whole neighbourhood pulled apart New doctrines, that alter routines, in search of London lives A homey forced to emigrate and the neighbourhood is still united and brave Where I’m recording my video, I thank the past to be remembered in future That’s my fate.
Também faz parte Pensei num péssimo indício e disse-o P’ra vir encarar à pressa ou começa no sacrifício Em cada fim há um início, em cada início uma história É hipótese duma nova trajetória, porque a glória (x2)
It plays a part too I thought of a bad sign and said it To come face to face with it in a hurry or start with sacrifice In every end there is a beginning, in every beginning a history It is the chance of a new direction, because of the glory (x2)
(Mundo Segundo) Também vim do bairro mas não do bloco, eu cresci na ilha Onde a miséria aponta o foco mas onde há fome há partilha Onde um prato dá para quatro, um quarto p’ra família inteira Duas camas, berço, terço na mesa de cabeceira Um ordenado, uma pensão, rendimento de inserção Uma criança como um dom num castelo de papelão Um futuro que não sorri numa bela face trancada como Um livro que não li com informação que faltava Mas não deixei de ser eu, fui do breu ao apogeu Fui do meu pequeno quarto aos palcos do coliseu Tudo faz parte, eu luto. Dizem que a vida é prostituta Mas apaixonei-me por ela a ver se a relação resulta Num certo ponto de vista, podem me chamar masoquista Mas não sou apologista de vitórias sem conquista Tenho sonhos numa lista, mais uma linha que se risca Na verdade só se despista aquele que se faz à pista Porque eu corro por desporto mas não me alimento de vento Fiz muito trabalho à borla, respeita o meu orçamento Direto sem ornamento, não político de parlamento Lamento não minto em detrimento que sinto por dentro Do ventre até ao jazigo, imperfeito assim prossigo Se partir, digam ao mundo “fechei a página deste livro” Em cada fim há um início, em cada início uma história É hipótese duma nova trajetória, porque a glória
(Mundo Segundo) I come from the hood too, but not the block, I grew up on the island, Where misery directs your focus, but where there is hunger there’s sharing Where a plate is enough for four and a bedroom for a whole family. Two beds, a crib, a rosary on the bedside table A wage, a pension, a social security payment A child like a king in a cardboard castle A future that doesn’t smile on a beautiful face, locked like A book I didn’t read, full of information I need But I didn’t stop being me, I went from the darkness to the heights I went from my little bedroom to the stage of the Coliseu Everything plays a part. I fight. They say that life is a prostitute But I fell in love with her to see if the relationship is a success From a certain point of view, you can call me a masochist But I’m not an apologist for victories without conquest I have a list of dreams, one more line gets crossed out In truth, only the person who stays on track loses the track Because I run for sport but I can’t eat the wind I did a lot of work for free. Respect my budget Straight up, without ornament, not a politician in parliament I’m sorry I don’t lie to the detriment of what I feel inside From the cradle to the grave, imperfect, I do it like that If you’re leaving, tell the world “I closed the page of that book” In every end there’s a start, in every start there’s a history It’s a chance of a new direction because of the glory
Também faz parte Pensei num péssimo indício e disse-o P’ra vir encarar à pressa ou começa no sacrifício Em cada fim há um início, em cada início uma história É hipótese duma nova trajetória, porque a glória (x2)
It plays a part too I thought of a bad sign and said it To come face to face with it in a hurry or start with sacrifice In every end there is a beginning, in every beginning a history It is the chance of a new direction, because of the glory (x2)
* This is possibly fanciful. Nobody I spoke to knew what this word and the quoted word at the end of the following line mean. The best guess was that they were portuguesified versions of english words If you want a more chilled version of that to cleanse the pallet, you could try this acoustic version by A Garota Não. The lyrics are heavily cut to make it fit the format but it’s really nice, as most of her stuff is.
After looking at that Da Weasel rap the other day, I thought maybe I’d try another so here we are. I returned to this video which I mentioned in passing a year or so ago. I thought the song was called Classe Crua, but Classe Crua is the name of the band, which is composed of Sam the Kid (he’s the white guy) and Beware Jack (tall hair). This song has a “feat” on it – with a guy called Chullage (woolly hat, big beard) (feat is short for “featuring”). Chullage is a form of Chulagem, the quality of being a Chulo: a pimp or a vulgar person.
It’s a challenging translation. It’s got crioula, french, english and street slang all the way through it, mixed together like a big old liguistic stew.
Portuguese
English
Marés Frias, vento Forte, balançam o meu suporte Mas ganho equilíbrio na balança! Já não escrevo só reporto fotografias no meu bloco Imagens são a melhor referência Bad feeling não me move Só balança o meu suporte O beat entra, o flow cospe O beat entra, o flow cospe O beat entra, o flow cospe
Cold seas, strong wind, shakes the ground I’m standing on But I gain stability from the instability I don’t write, I only report photographs of my block Images are the best reference Bad feeling doesn’t move me Just shakes the ground I’m standing on The beat enters, the flow spits The beat enters, the flow spits The beat enters, the flow spits
Velho mar, barcos novos, velhos jogos, novos modos Velho passaporte, novo avião, nova escala Velho mapa, novas rotas Dou a volta ganho pernas como centopeias Descansa, tenho o nirvana nas veias Tiro-te as teimas, a cena é phat como Baleias Palavras bem usadas são uma Uzi, uma arma Calma, a nova expressão apaga o velho trauma São chagas da nossa Aura, mágoas da nossa alma Chakras do nosso karma Não há vivalma Que fique indiferente e se ficarem indiferentes Dá-me tempo “deixa-me rir” como o Jorge Palma O Sociólogo da nova escola, com a velha guarda A criar modas por aí a fora Com a velha fórmula na nova montra Keep it real p’ra zona aos que trocam sprints por maratonas
Old sea, new boats, old games, new styles Old passport, new plane, new scale Old map, new routes I go far a walk I get legs like centipedes Chill, I have nirvana in my veins I’ll take away your stubbornness, the scene is phat like whales Well used words, I’m an uzi, a weapon Calm down,the new expression wipes out the old trauma They are wounds on our aura, injuries on our soul Chakras of our karma There’s no living soul That will be indifferent, and if they’re indifferent Give me time, “let me laugh” like Jorge Palma* The sociologist of the new school with the old guard Creating methods out there With the old formula in the new shopfront Keep it real in the sone for people who swap sprints for marathons
Marés Frias, vento Forte, balançam o meu suporte Mas ganho equilíbrio na balança! Já não escrevo só reporto fotografias no meu bloco Imagens são a melhor referência Bad feeling não me move Só balança o meu suporte O beat entra, o flow cospe O beat entra, o flow cospe O beat entra, o flow cospe
Cold seas, strong wind, shakes the ground I’m standing on But I gain stability from the instability I don’t write, I only report photographs of my block Images are the best reference Bad feeling doesn’t move me Just shakes the ground I’m standing on The beat enters, the flow spits The beat enters, the flow spits The beat enters, the flow spits
Beware! I wanna be there Onde toda a gente é gente, e o que é bom é freeware Mas buéda** gente ’tá a ver magenta, a follow the líder Buéda gente vive à tangente A swallow o que houver Nhãs*** brodas usam a cabeça só p’ra por new wear E dizem-me “Chullage é uma new era” (Chulagi dja bu era) Deixam links, fazem clicks Bebem pink, fazem pics E mandam comments ‘Pa que te piques e o views atinjam peaks Na broda, been there Coolest monkeys in da jungle HM ou Pull And Bear Broda couldn’t bear Muita câmara Muito filtro, muito share, muito flair Tanto fait-divers**** Teresa May ou Tony Blair Same old same old, nique sa mere***** Novos governos, mesmo xaxos****** Novos alunos, as mesmas praxes Novos beats, os mesmos baixos Novos mc’s os memo chachos******* Tudo a tentar o encaixe Mas já nada sai da caixa Tudo tão aprumado que parece tudo Tão saído do terceiro Reich Versos controversos ‘Pa poder dar nas views Essa medalha tem reverso Tudo o mesmo point of view Buéda flow mas não é diverso Trágico como em Lampedusa Brodas acabam imersos Há uma festa no terraço Duma casa sem alicerces Fuck’em Fecho a matraca******** E alinho os chakras Escrevo linhas sacras Cansado de tantos wankers Galinhas e bácoras Meu pensamento entra no train A curtir Coltrane E mando rimas só por treino Giants steps A love supreme Estou fora do frame Ponho os fones, subo o gain, expulso o pain E mando um grito Tenho buéda fantasmas e por eles não tenho escrito Tens buéda fantasmas daqueles que te têm escrito Estás tipo Mc’Donalds Já vens da América feito Aqui só foste frito Digo o que sinto Novo ou proscrito E não preciso de ser seguido nem subscrito Já não rappo Só vomito Nunca omito Meu commitment Quando debito Foda-se Sam granda beat Foda-se Beware obrigado pelo convite!
Beware I wanna be there Where everybody is us and what’s good is freeware But a lot of people are seeing magenta to follow the leader A lot of people live at a tangent And swallow whatever there is And the brothers only use their heads to put on new wear And they tell me, “Chullage, it’s a new era” (Chulagi dja bu era) They post links, they make clicks They drink pink, they take pics Why do you bite, and your views hit peaks No brother, been there Coolest monkey in the jungle H+M or Pull and Bear Brother couldn’t bear Lots of camera Lots of filters, lots of shares, lots of flair Lots of other stuff Teresa May and Tony Blair Same old same old. fuck their mother New governments, same assholes New students, same hazing rituals New bears, same baselines New MCs, same guys Everything trying to fit in But now nothing gets outside the box Everything is so polished it all seems To have come from the Third Reich Controversial verses To be able to get views This medal has another side All from the same point of view Lots of flow, but it isn’t diverse Tragic like in Lampedusa Brothers end up immersed There’s a party on the terrace Of a house with no foundations Fuck ’em I’m shutting my mouth And aligning my chakras I write sacred lines Tired of so many wankers Chickens and piglets My thought gets on the train Enjoying Coltrane And rap some rhymes just for practice Giant Steps A Love Supreme I’m outside the frame I put on my headphones, turn up the gain, expel the pain And I let out a scream I have so many ghosts and because of them, I haven’t written You have so many ghosts the kind that write you You’re like McDonalds You came from America, ready made You were fried here I say what I feel New or forbidden And I don’t need to be followed or subscribed I don’t rap I just vomit I don’t omit Mu commitment When I debit Fuck it, Sam, great beat Fuck it, Beware, thanks for the invitation
[Refrão: Beware Jack] Marés Frias, vento Forte, balançam o meu suporte Mas ganho equilíbrio na balança! Já não escrevo só reporto fotografias no meu bloco Imagens são a melhor referência Bad feeling não me move Só balança o meu suporte O beat entra, o flow cospe O beat entra, o flow cospe O beat entra, o flow cospe
[Refrain by Beware jack] Cold seas, strong wind, shakes the ground I’m standing on But I gain stability from the instability I don’t write, I only report photographs of my block Images are the best reference Bad feeling doesn’t move me Just shakes the ground I’m standing on The beat enters, the flow spits The beat enters, the flow spits The beat enters, the flow spits
** Lots of english in this verb, but lots of slang too. Buéda gente seems to be “bué da gente. Bué is slang derived from africa. I think it’s maybe not that new. I think bué fixe (“very cool” dates back a while, but bué is generally a reinforcer so it indicates a lot of something or very much something
It’s time for another translation! This isn’t your avô’s fado, it’s a bit noisier and punkier than most of theportuguese music I’ve heard. “Quero Ser Um Ecrã” by Baleia Baleia Baleia
This is obviously about screens, and it could be any time of electronic screen, but I think it’s mostly used for handheld devices – which is presumably why they’ve got all the spectators in the video to film the whole thing and view it through their screens instead of just watching the performance. Screen is “Ecrã” in this sense. Masculine, despite the a at the end. I gather if it was a PC screen, that would be “monitor”, but tela and visor are also in use for similar kinds of surfaces – I just don’t hear them so often (Brazilian? Slang?). There’s also the word “biombo” which is the kind of screen you might find in a doctor’s surgery for example, for people to have privacy during procedures. Anyway, none of that – we’re thinking social media, mobile phones – all that stuff – happening on a screen.
Quero Ser um Ecrã
I want to be a screen
E a vida, a morte, em fotos no ecrã Os dias compridos e os olhos no ecrã O mundo perdido, achado no ecrã Quero ser um ecrã E os sonhos dos outros cumpridos no ecrã O monstro do visível escondido do ecrã Quero ser um ecrã, quero ser um ecrã
And life, death, in photos on the screen The short days and the eyes on the screen The lost world, found on the screen I want to be a screen And other people’s dreams, accomplished on the screen The monster of what’s visible, hidden on the screen I want to be a screen, I want to be a screen.
E as balas que nunca passam do ecrã A força dos gritos, regulável no ecrã As lendas e os mitos, imortais no ecrã Quero ser um ecrã Medos e incertezas no armário do ecrã Celulite e flacidez no ginásio do ecrã Quero ser um ecrã, quero ser um ecrã
And the bullets that never pass through the screen The force of the screams, adjustable on the screen The legends and the myths, immortal on the screen I want to be a screen Fears and uncertainties in the closet of the screen Celulite and flabbiness in the gymnasium of the screen I want to be a screen, I want to be a screen
[Ponte] E é sempre verão no ecrã E os corpos estão sempre nús E há tantos gatinhos no ecrã E sushi E bolinhos E coisas boas
[Bridge] And it’s always summer on the screen And the bodies are always naked And there are so many kittens on the screen And sushi And little cakes And good things
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!
Today’s post is definitely Not Safe For Work. It’s filthy, in fact. Yesterday’s was a translation of a Quim Barreiros song but it wasn’t a very typical one, because it had been commissioned by someone else, so I thought I’d try something more mainstream. There are so many to choose from. “A Garagem da Vizinha” and “A Cabritinha” are big favourites, but I’ve always been intrigued by “Mestre de Culinária” because I can see there’s a double entendre going on but I can’t quite work out what he’s driving at, so here I go, deep-diving into it, trying to work out what he’s actually saying. Hopefully the experience will be educational, but if not, who cares, it’ll still be fun.
I’ll use a live version. Well… “live” in a manner of speaking. I think it’s overdubbed with the original track, but I like the vibe of the video because it looks like he’s singing at a student graduation ceremony and they’re all having such an amazing time and dancing like nobody’s watching in their capa e batina (aka “traje acedémico” – student robes). This just feels like the right way to enjoy music.
First of all, here’s a straight-up translation. I’ll get to the insinuação (innuendo) at the end.
Mestre de Culinária
Master of Cookery
Sou solteiro e bom rapaz Vivo num apartamento Ainda sou muito novo P’ra pensar em casamento
I’m single and a good lad I live in a flat I’m still pretty young To think about marrying
Convido minhas amigas P’ra comer e p’ra dançar Mas demoro muito tempo A preparar o jantar
I invite my girl friends over To eat and dance But I take a long time To prepare the dinner
Eu sou o mestre de culinária E sei enfeitar a travessa Vou comprar uma panela de pressão Para ver se eu cozinho mais depressa
I am the master of cookery I know how to garnish the platter I’m going to buy a pressure cooker To see if I cook quicker
Sei que sou bom cozinheiro Aprendi com a Isabelinha Mas confesso que me faltam Utensílios de cozinha
I know I’m a good cook I learned from Isabelinha But I admit I don’t have Cooking utensils
Todas me dizem o mesmo Que jantar delicioso Quem tem fome desespera Pois sou muito vagaroso
They all say the same thing to me That the dinner was delicious But anyone who’s hungry despairs Because I’m so slow
Eu sou o mestre de culinária E sei enfeitar a travessa Vou comprar uma panela de pressão Para ver se eu cozinho mais depressa
I am the master of cookery I know how to garnish the platter I’m going to buy a pressure cooker To see if I cook quicker
Of course, a literal translation is easy enough, but reading between the lines to see the nudge-nudge-wink-wink meaning he’s trying to convey is much harder. For example, I’m pretty sure this page was written by an AI, judging by the structure of the text, and it seems to be taking it very much at face value. My first assumption, before I started writing this, was that the innuendo would turn out to be something about him really being a mestre de cunilíngua, but I’m not sure how taking a long time over that would be a bad thing.
Wait… Mestre de Cu… But doesn’t that mean…?
No, the clue probably should have been in the first syllable of cu-linária. He’s the mestre de cu.
And sure enough, the pay-off line “Para ver se eu cozinho mais depressa” sounds like “Para ver seu cuzinho mais depressa”. He wants to see his guest’s arse as soon as possible. So it seems his aim is to but a pressure cooker so he can cook quickly, get dinner over and done with and move on to… other things.
I can see a few other lines of possible innuendo: panela can mean bum/buttocks (4th definition here), but I don’t think he’s planning to buy pressure-buttocks, so I think that might be a red herring.
Travessa is an interesting one because it has quite a lot of meanings, both as a noun and an adjective. The ostensible meaning here is a long dish or platter, but it can also mean an act of crossing (travessar = atravessar) and that can – according to at least one online source – mean an act of penetration. I don’t see much evidence for that though. It’s a little difficult to tell though becaue if you start googling words like that the results you get look like the kinds of things you don’t want to click on. I think like the guy might have been overthinking it, but I could be wrong.
A more plausible line of enquiry with travessa is as the feminine form of travesso, which means bad, naughty, wicked. So it would mean something like “bad girl”. Enfeitar a travessa? Decorate the bad girl? In tauromaquia (bullfighting), enfeitar means to stick a farpa ( a decorated spear thingy) in a bull (some of the pictures on this page for example) so… Well, that certainly sounds like it might have some sort of double meaning. I don’t see any solid evidence for that either but it feels a little more likely than the previous suggestion.
That’s the chorus, but what about the rest? Is cooking a metaphor for something else? Well, the word “comer” (to eat) isn’t mentioned, but it is a slang word for having sex, so all this cooking imagery might be leaning in that direction. Is the theme of taking a long time implying he’s old and in need of viagra? Nah, that seems unlikely because he says right at the outset that he’s young. Obviously given the “eating” motif, oral sex has been suggested but I don’t really see it – I can’t put my finger on why, but I think the innuendo would be more obvious if it were that.
The whole thing has a general smutty air to it, but I think trying to spell out exactly how the smut works just feels like clutching at straws. Maybe the wider narrative is just a frame for the chorus and that’s where all the double-entendre lies.
Here’s the question I asked about this on Reddit
Coloqiei-me o* desafio hoje de traduzir uma canção de Quim Barreiros para inglês. O título é Mestre de Culinária.
Claro que já sabia que existem várias insinuações na letra, mas não percebi o que o poeta dizia. Depois do exercício, compreendo mais, mas acho que ainda não entendo cem por cento.
Hum… O trocadilho mais óbvio é “para ver se eu (seu) cozinho (cuzinho) mais depressa”, que ecoa a primeira sílaba de cu-linaria. Acho que “travessa” (um prato elongado) também tem duplo significado (manhosa”?), mas além disso, não tenho certeza. Quanto mais pensei, mais imaginei que havia insinuações em quase todas as palavras. Eu estava num corredor de espelhos sem saída.
Acabei por desistir antes de enlouquecer. O que me passou ao lado**
*”Coloqiei-me o desafio” strikes me as a really odd locution but that’s the correction. I wrote “fiz um desafio”
**I wrote “perdi o quê” for “what did I miss” but that’s not very idiomatic.
I fancied doing another translation, and there’s a song I saw a while ago and mentally filed under “What the hell did I just see?” so here I am, coming back to give it a more thorough treatment.
I’ve definitely mentioned Joaquim de Magalhães Fernandes Barreiros before and I think described him as Portugal’s Benny Hill. He does smutty, innuendo-laden songs and he’s well-liked by many and perhaps a source of embarrassment to others. He’s well-known enough that Netflix chose him to promote its series Sex Education in Portugal – and here’s the result.
OK, well this is going to be fun. *Cracks Knuckles*
The first thing to point out is that a few times in the lyrics he addresses the listeners directly and he does this using the vós form of the imperative tense. This is pretty uncommon. In fact, the first time I saw it I almost had an aneurism becaue I thought it was a new tense that I’d never seen before. I’ll highlight it in the portuguese text for anyone who doesn’t recognise it.
Educação Sexual
Sex Education
Rapazes e raparigas Ligai o computador Vamos todos aprender Como é que se faz amor
Boys and girls Turn on the computer We’re all going to learn How to make love
É hora de despertar Para a vida sexual Uns vão gostar de banana Os outros de bacalhau
It’s time to wake up To sexual life Some people like banana The others, cod
Seja homem ou mulher Não importa a orientação A realidade é sempre Melhor que a fricção
Whether man or woman It doesn’t matter the orientation The reality is always Better than friction*
Falai abertamente De sexo sem timidez Está na hora de começar Aguentas oito de uma vez?
Speak openly About sex, without shyness It’s time to start Can you handle eight at once?
Para cima, para baixo Está no ir, está no quente Enfiai devagarinho E gozai suavemente
Up and down It’s on the go**, it’s in the warm Put it in slowly And have fun***, gently
Para cima, para baixo Está no ir, está no quente Enfiai devagarinho E gozai suavemente
Aguentas oito de uma vez? Aguentas oito de uma vez? Aguentas oito de uma vez?
Up and down It’s on the go, it’s in the warm Put it in slowly And have fun, gently
Can you handle eight at once? Can you handle eight at once? Can you handle eight at once?
* Reality is better than f(r)iction is obviosuly a pun. There are a few ways of expressing the equivalent of “truth is stranger than fiction” in portuguese, but this is legitimately one of them – see this TSF Rádio Notícias article, for example.
**Not sure about the translation here. “Está no ir” isn’t a phrase that comes up a lot if you google it, but it does seem to mean what you’d think if you translated it literally “It’s on the go”
***Gozar usually means to enjoy something in european portuguese – “gozar de férias” (enjoy the holidays) is an example given on priberam, so I’ve just translated it like that. However, the fact that in brazilian portuguese it also means “have an orgasm” is pretty obviously going to be relevant, given what he’s singing about!
Another translation today: it’s a rap, but it’s surprisingly easy to translate. Or rather, I didn’t have any impossible slang to deal with. I daresay a professional translator would laugh at it, but that’s OK.
Dialectos de Ternura
Dialects of Tenderness
Yoo Ela diz que me adora quando a noite vai a meio Eu sinto-me melhor pessoa, menos fraco, feio Passa o dedo na rasta com a mão bem suave Encosta o lábio no ouvido e diz-me: Queres que a lave? Vamos para o chuveiro e ela flui com a água Lava-me a cabeça, a alma e qualquer resto de mágoa Diz que o meu amor lhe dá um certo calor na barriga É aí que eu sei que quero ser para sempre aquele nigga Que lhe mete a rir, rir, quando eu lhe faço vir Da terra até à lua mano, é sempre a subir E somos grandes, gigantes com dez metros de altura Falamos vinte línguas, dialectos da Ternura Tipo
Uhh, uhh! Yeah, yeah! Faz, faz! Dá, dá
Yo! She tells me she adores me in the middle of the night I feel like a better person, less weak, ugly She runs her finger over my dreadlock* with her soft hand Puts her lips to my ear and says “Do you want me to wash it?” We go to the shower and she flows with the water She washes my head, my soul and any remaining pain She says my love makes her warm in her belly It’s then that I know that I want to be that nigga That makes her laugh, laugh when I make her come From earth to the moon, man, she’s always rising And we’re big, giant, ten metres tall We speak twenty languages, dialects of tenderness. Like
Uhh, uhh! Yeah, yeah! Do it! Do it! Give it! Give it!
Água morna em pele quente poro aberto não perfura A minha alma já tá nua e eu faço-lhe uma jura, jura Para sempre teu depois da noite volvida Um segundo ao teu lado já preenche uma vida O conceito de tempo não entra na sensação Aquilo que vivemos tá gravado no coração Segura na minha mão e continua a canção É a melhor que já ouvi reinventaste a paixão Ela diz que me adora quando o dia vai a meio O copo passa de meio vazio para meio cheio A palavra ganha vida e fala à minha frente Sigo calmo atrás dela deixo crescer a semente
E Diz-me Uhh, uhh! Yeah, yeah! Faz, faz! Dá, dá
Warm water on hot skin, open pore, doesn’t pierce My soul is already naked and I swear to her, I swear Forever yours, after the night has passed One second by your side is a full lifetime The concept of time doesn’t enter the senses What we’re living is carved on our hearts Hold my hand and continue the song It’s the best I’ve ever heard, you’ve reinvented passion She tells me she adores me in the middle of the night The cup grows from being half empty to half full The word comes to life and speaks in front of me I follow her calmly and let the seed grow
Uhh, uhh! Yeah, yeah! Do it! Do it! Give it! Give it!
Em cada beijo há uma frase, em cada frase há um verso Em cada verso há um lado do lado inverso De uma história que assombra a memória Da leveza irrisória de uma conquista notória Faço V de vitória, porque hoje eu sou rei Ao lado da rainha com que sempre sempre sonhei Foi por isto que esperei, em cada noite que amei Ou pensei que amei porque é agora que eu sei A razão da palavra consagrada Que tanta gente dá à toa em troca de quase nada Ela não tá espantada, pelo contrário, relaxada Revê-se na expressão da expressão enamorar
E diz-me Uhh, uhh! Yeah, yeah! Faz, faz! Dá, dá
In each kiss, in each sentence there’s a verse In each verse there’s another page on the opposite side Of a story that overshadows the memory Of the ridiculous lightness of a notorious conquest I make the V for victory because today I’m the king By the side of the queen I’ve always, always dreamed of It was this I was hoping for, every night I loved Or thought it loved, because now I know The reason for the sacred word That so many people give thoughtlessly in exchange for almost nothing She’s not shocked, on the contrary, relaxed It shows in the expression, the loving expression
Uhh, uhh! Yeah, yeah! Do it! Do it! Give it! Give it!
According to Priberam, Rasta can be a rastafarian and by extension can also refer to dreadlocks as worn by rastafarians.
Luso 