Lyrics and translation César Oliveira - Cavalinho de Pau

Cavalinho de Pau

Meu cavalinho de pau
Crioulo da fantasia
Tinha a cola que não crescia
E a boca sem comer pasto
Tinha o lombo meio cião
E o pescoço de gavião
E uma rachadura no casco

Tinha raça de taquara
Cruzada com carafau
Delgado como um virau
E um pêlo bem pangaré
Parente da cobra verde
Com seu galope de rente
Ia escrevendo com o pé

Brincando de faz de conta
Lhe ensinei a velhacar
Dar coices e escaramuçar
Com jeito de um redomão
Só nunca pude frustrá-lo
Sofre nado meu cavalo
Fincava a cola no chão

Com a cola dele pra o céu
Apontava estrela guia
Um olho na pontaria
Mirava pro pica-paus
Pauleava as caranguejeiras
E as gatas namoradeiras
Que me aturdiam aos miaus

Batia os galhos das arvores
Derrubava frutas no chão
No ombro foi mosquetão
Espada para o meu cinto
No seu galope macio
Nas longas tardes de frio
Tropeei ninhadas de pinto

Corre carreiras de apé
Meti fundura de poço
Fiz raias pra jogar osso
E guiada dos bois a pipa
Fiz flechas pros meus caminhos
Furei o fundo dos guinhos
E o bando das caturritas

Um dia jogando talho
Outro piá espadachim
Aulada não foi pra mim
E as brincas, perdi o jogo
Quebrou-se o meu cavalinho
No outro dia bem cedinho
Virou gravetos pro fogo

My Stick Horse

My stick horse
Creature of my imagination
Had a tail that never grew
And a mouth that never ate grass
Had a slightly bluish back
And a neck like a hawk's
And a crack in its hoof

Was made of bamboo
Crossed with carafau wood
As slender as a virau tree
And had a pangaré coat
Relative of the green snake
With its galloping in low gear
It wrote with its feet

Playing make-believe
I taught it to play tricks
To kick and skirmish
Like a real horse
But I could never break its spirit
It would always suffer, my horse
Planting its tail in the ground

With its tail in the air
It pointed to the North Star
One eye on the target
It aimed at the woodpeckers
It knocked down tarantula nests
And the amorous cats
That bothered me with their meows

It knocked down the branches of trees
Knocking down fruit on the ground
On my shoulder it was a musket
A sword for my belt
In its gentle gallop
On long, cold afternoons
I trampled broods of chicks

We ran barefoot races
We explored the depths of wells
We made grooves to throw bones
And guided the cattle to the pond
I made arrows for my paths
I made holes in the bottom of the water jugs
And the flock of parakeets

One day playing fencing
Another boy was my opponent
Defeat was not for me
And in the games, I lost the match
My stick horse broke
The next day, very early
It became firewood