Águas De Março

             

           Águas de Março by Tom Jobim

Águas de Março "É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho É um caco de vidro, é a vida, é o sol É a noite, é a morte, é o laço, é o anzol É peroba do campo, é o nó da madeira Caingá candeia, é o matita-pereira É madeira de vento, tombo da ribanceira É o mistério profundo, é o queira ou não queira É o vento ventando, é o fim da ladeira É a viga, é o vão, festa da cumeeira É a chuva chovendo, é conversa ribeira Das águas de março, é o fim da canseira É o pé, é o chão, é a marcha estradeira Passarinho na mão, pedra de atiradeira É uma ave no céu, é uma ave no chão É um regato, é uma fonte, é um pedaço de pão É o fundo do poço, é o fim do caminho No rosto o desgosto, é um pouco sozinho É um estrepe, é um prego, é uma ponta, é um ponto É um pingo pingando, é uma conta, é um conto É um peixe, é um gesto, é uma prata brilhando É a luz da manhã, é o tijolo chegando É a lenha, é o dia, é o fim da picada É a garrafa de cana, o estilhaço na estrada É o projeto da casa, é o corpo na cama É o carro enguiçado, é a lama, é a lama É um passo, é uma ponte, é um sapo, é uma rã É um resto de mato, na luz da manhã São as águas de março fechando o verão É a promessa de vida no teu coração É uma cobra, é um pau, é João, é José É um espinho na mão, é um corte no pé São as águas de março fechando o verão É a promessa de vida no teu coração É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho É um passo, é uma ponte, é um sapo, é uma rã É um belo horizonte, é uma febre terçã São as águas de março fechando o verão É a promessa de vida no teu coração"

Waters of March It's stick, it's stone, It's the end of the road It's a stump left behind, It's a little alone It's a shard of glass, It is life, it's the sun It is night, it is death, It's the snare, it's the fishhook It's peroba of the field, It’s the knot in the wood Lamp caingá tree, It's the matita-pereira tree It's wind in the wood, Falls of the ravine It's the profound mystery, It's what you wish or you don’t It's the wind blowing, It's the end of the slope It's the beam, it's the span, The new roof party It's the rain raining, It’s riverbank talk Of the waters of March, It's the end of the struggle It's the foot, it's the ground, It's the walk on the road Small bird in the hand, A slingshot stone It’s a bird in the sky, It’s a bird on the ground It's a creek, it's a fountain, It's a piece of bread It's the bottom of the well, It's the end of the way In the face the annoyance, It's a little lonely It's a thorn, it's a nail, It's a point, it’s a dot It's a drop dripping, It's an tally, it’s a tale It's a fish, it’s a gesture, It's a silver shining It's the morning’s light, It's the brick arriving It's the firewood, it's the day, It's the end of the trail It's the bottle of liquor, Splinter in the road It’s the house’s design, It's the body in bed It's the broken-down car, It's the mud, it's the mud It's a footstep, it's a bridge, It's a toad, it's a frog It's a hair left behind, In the morning’s light They are the waters of March Closing the summer It's the promise of life In your heart It's a snake, it’s a stick, It's John, it's Joseph It's a thorn in the hand, It's the cut on the foot They are the waters of March Closing the summer It's the promise of life In your heart It's stick, it's stone, It's the end of the road It's a resting stump, It's a little alone It's a footstep, a bridge, It's a toad, it's a frog It's a beautiful horizon, It’s a trembling fever They are the waters of March Closing the summer It's the promise of life In your heart.

 

               http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waters_of_March

 

20:48 - Monday 11 January 2010 - post comment

P.S.

I know. It isn't March yet. Even Spring is a long time away. What can I say? This is about the end of summer. Long a favourite song of mine, in Brazil it was voted the best Brazilian song ever written. And of course it sounds much more beautiful in Brazilian Portuguese -- although with the YouTube still ("unaccountably" is the adverb of choice) blocked in this bottleneck of the world, I'm afraid that to hear the song, you'll have to go and do your own legwork to find, say, Elis Regina and Antonio Carlos (Tom) Jobim singing it together. Anyway, if any of this interests you, you'll want to read this ("as ever" is the adverb of choice here) informative Wiki article too -- and there's a link down at the bottom of that piece to another piece (whence I grabbed the twin lyrics) that you might also enjoy reading.

N.B. Jobim himself re-wrote it in English:

WATERS OF MARCH

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone

A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow

The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find

A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night

A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud

Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night

A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road

A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.



Edited by borisknack on Tuesday 12 January 2010 at 22:34

borisknack - 15:11 - Monday 11 January 2010

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