Milongueando Uns Troços - Mauro Moraes traduction en anglais

Milongueando Uns Troços

Era inverno sim
Eu perdido em mim
Rabiscava uns versos pra enganar a dor
O tédio, o pranto, o tombo

E encantava mágoas milongueando sonhos
Mas havia em mim um cismar doentio
De agradar estimas aos atalhos gastos dos compadres músicos

Repartindo as tralhas, tendo o olhar recluso
Repartindo as tralhas, tendo o olhar recluso

Somos dessa aldeia, filhos de parteiras
Na parelha injusta da cor
Somos pensadores sem pedir favores

Somos desta plebe, febre de palavras
Na fronteira oculta dos rios
Somos cantadores sem pedir favores

Caso essa biboca, cova da desova
Dilarece o fruto, mastigando o gulo
O sumo, o tudo, o nada
Pego essa pandilha e engravido a rima

Se o amor der sombra
A sesteada é pouca
Pra escorar no esteio os livros, os arreios
O riso humano, o cusco, os ossos

E talvez amigos milongueando uns troços
E talvez amigos milongueando uns troços

Somos dessa aldeia, filhos de parteiras
Na parelha injusta da cor
Somos pensadores sem pedir favores

Somos dessa plebe, febre de palavras
Na fronteira oculta dos rios
Somos cantadores sem pedir favores

Se o amor der sombra
A sesteada é pouca
Pra escorar no esteio os livros, os arreios
O riso humano, o cusco, os ossos

E talvez amigos milongueando uns troços
E talvez amigos milongueando uns troços
E talvez amigos milongueando uns troços

Milongueando Uns Troços

It was winter, yes
I was lost inside myself
I scribbled verses to deceive the pain
Boredom, sadness, loneliness

And I sang away my sorrows, milongueando my dreams
But there was an obsessive thought within me
Of pleasing others instead of my own musical compadres

With our shared history, yet isolated gazes
With our shared history, yet isolated gazes

We are from this village, born of midwives
In the unjust cycle of color
We are thinkers who ask for no favors

We are from these people, feverish with words
On the hidden border of rivers
We are singers who ask for no favors

If this hovel, this breeding ground
Dilutes the fruit, chewing on greed
The essence, the all, the nothing
I take this gang and impregnate the rhyme

If love gives shade
The siesta is short
To support the books, the tack, the laughter
The human smile, the dog, the bones

And perhaps friends, milongueando uns troços
And perhaps friends, milongueando uns troços

We are from this village, born of midwives
In the unjust cycle of color
We are thinkers who ask for no favors

We are from these people, feverish with words
On the hidden border of rivers
We are singers who ask for no favors

If love gives shade
The siesta is short
To support the books, the tack, the laughter
The human smile, the dog, the bones

And perhaps friends, milongueando uns troços
And perhaps friends, milongueando uns troços
And perhaps friends, milongueando uns troços