Poor me, I'm not worthy of aiding you in the misfortune, of deserving you in sorrow's way.
The reason for your crying you won't tell me. You don't have to say why, I can guess, in any case.
The unhappy lovers should have the courage to change their course.
By love, we give our souls, we give our body, we give everything until the journey tires us.
But when life calms down, what was love becomes nostalgia, and life is nothing, thus.
If you still can, keep your distance — silence your heart, kill the past, and smile too.
But if you can't, carry on.
So said my mother to me upon seeing me cry for you.
Fado, the music of Portugal.
The above is my translation of Duas lagrimas de orvalho (Two tears of dew), originally recorded by Carlos do Carmo, then remade by Mariza more recently (who has made an appearance on the blog before).
Now I can't decide whose version I like better.
| Carlos do Carmos | Mariza |
1 comment:
Just one thing: the first "a" of "lágrimas" takes a diacritic, as I wrote it.
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