Posted in English, Portuguese

O Leilão da Casa da Mariquinhas

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 Portuguese

Táxi – Chiclete

Portuguese Ska! Skaudade?

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!

PortugueseEnglish
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
Chiclete
Aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua
Chiclete
Chiclet
Aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua
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
Chiclete
Aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua
Chiclete
Chiclet
Aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua
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
Chiclete
Aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua
Chiclete, chiclete, chiclete, chiclete
Chiclete, chiclete, chiclete, chiclete
Chiclete (Prova)
Chiclete (Mastiga)
Chiclete (Deita fora)
Chiclete (Sem demora)
Chiclet
Aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua-aua
Chiclet, chiclet, chiclet, chiclet
Chiclet, chiclet, chiclet, chiclet
Chiclet (Taste)
Chiclet (Chew)
Chiclet (Throw away)
Chiclet (No delay)

*=This is french. Boooooo!

Posted in English

Oh No He Didn’t…

Politicians are often prone to saying wildly inappropriate things in public and Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa is no exception. 😬

Oof, That’ll Cost You At Least One Vote At The Next Election

Posted in English, Portuguese

Chakras

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.

PortugueseEnglish
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

* Reference to this song

** 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

***Crioulo Cabo Verdiano – short for minhas/meus

**** Dammit, this is french!!!

***** Dammit, so is this!

******Not sure abot this one but basing it on this.

********Seems to be short for the spanish word “muchachos”

********This word can have a lot of meanings. I’m assuming he’s talking about his mouth since none of the other options make much sense.

Posted in Portuguese

Rabo de Peixe

Rabo de Peixe é uma série da Netflix cujo enredo se desenrola nos Açores. Os protagonistas são açorianos jovens, pescadores e empregados dum videoclube. Todos têm os seus próprios desafios na vida: por exemplo, o pai do protagonista é cego, o da amiga dele é um bandido. Sonham com* melhorarem a vida ou escaparem-se da ilha.

Rabo de Peixe
Rabo de Peixe (aka “Turn of the Tide”)

As vidas deles mudam por completo quando um barco se afunda perto da ilha, espalhando caixas de cocaína, embrulhadas em plástico, ao longo das praias. Em breve, toda a gente tem a sua parte da carga. Padres, médicos, velhas, todos andam com pó em volta das narinas. Os protagonistas que sabem navegar põem-se a recolher as caixas restantes de vários esconderijos inacessíveis entre as rochas a beira-mar.

Nos dias seguintes, um grupo de polícias chega de Lisboa para trabalhar lado a lado com as forças da região autónoma, mas também chega um membro da máfia italiana, dono da droga, que quer recuperar a cocaína perdida.

É uma das séries mais bem realizadas que já vi em português. A cinematografia é incrível e os atores, incluindo o comediante Salvador Martinha, protagonizam os seus papéis muito bem. Existem vários buracos no enredo, mas não há nada perfeito.

*I’ll never get used to the fact that you dream with something, not of something.

Posted in English

The Perminator

My daughter has been telling people her favourite portuguese music is “Eu Tenho Dois Amores” by Marco Paulo, and she’s even sung the opening line to me a couple of times, but nothing could prepare me for the real thing.

I see a lot of people in the comments are nostalgic for it, and I get that: music that reminds you of a time and a place is always special. And I have to admit, the lad has or a set of pipes on him. But, as someone hearing it for the first time in 2023, it’s pretty cringe. The hair style, the little dance, the fact that he is singing about his two girlfriends who are completely different because um… they have different hair colours… Well, that’s the eighties for you, I suppose!

Posted in English, Portuguese

Quero Ser Um Ecrã

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 EcrãI 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
[Hook]
Quero ser um ecrã (x13)
[Hook]
I want to be a screen (x13)
Posted in English, Portuguese

Povo que Lavas No Rio

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 rioPeople 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!