Текст и перевод песни Samuel Úria - Fica Aquém

Fica Aquém

A tempestade foi forjada
E a mão humana tinha garra
Enxerto que pegou de estaca
Fica aquém

Já a bonança é batoteira
E, atrás da fronte baladeira
Traz ventos para a sementeira
Fica aquém

Como se não bastasse a graça
Enferrujou-se o que é pertença
A traça come o que te interessa
Fica aquém

E o Patrício fez-se pária
Tão descarada, a mão na área
Palmou fortuna, esbanjou glória
Fica aquém

Teremos morte por salário
Greve de zelo do operário
Peca-se sempre com critério
Vai-se além

Findou-se o tique involuntário
Ninguém sorri no cemitério
Versado no jogo do sério
Fica aquém

Arredondou-se o bico ao prego
O caridoso é aziago
Eu te esconjuro, eu te arrenego
Fica aquém

E a virtude é tão devassa
Larga a coroa e ganha a taça
O inquisidor, jovem promessa
Fica aquém

Teremos morte por salário
Greve de zelo do operário
Peca-se sempre com critério
Vai-se além

Findou-se o tique involuntário
Ninguém sorri no cemitério
Versado no jogo do sério
Fica aquém

Venha o rodízio do veneno
Antes que aqui nos caia o pano
E, findo desde pequenino
Vai-se além

Andamos rentes ao terreno
É escrupuloso o nosso plano
O povo em bruto é tão sereno
Fica aquém

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Fica Aquém

The storm was forged
And the human hand had a claw
Graft that took from a stake
It lags behind

The calm is already a cheater
And, behind the strolling forehead
It brings winds for the seedbed
It lags behind

As if grace were not enough
What belongs has rusted
The moth eats what interests you
It lags behind

And the Patrician has become a pariah
So shameless, the hand in the area
He has palmed fortune, squandered glory
It lags behind

We shall have death for a wage
The worker's strike of zeal
One always sins with criteria
One goes further

The involuntary tic has ended
No one smiles in the cemetery
Well versed in the game of being serious
It lags behind

The beak has rounded to the nail
The charitable one is unlucky
I exorcise you, I curse you
It lags behind

And virtue is so debauched
Leaves the crown and wins the cup
The inquisitor, a young promise
It lags behind

We shall have death for a wage
The worker's strike of zeal
One always sins with criteria
One goes further

The involuntary tic has ended
No one smiles in the cemetery
Well versed in the game of being serious
It lags behind

Come the rotation of poison
Before the curtain falls on us here
And, finished since I was a child
One goes further

We walk close to the ground
Our plan is scrupulous
The people in the rough are so serene
It lags behind

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh