Day of Portugal and Camões ... and Portuguese Language

Portuguese and Galician languages were once the same. Luís de Camões, our 1st great poet (XVI century) and the writer of this poem, had Galician ancestry. This song was written in late 1960s by José Afonso, who had an intense relationship with Galician culture. And me too, I have Galician ancestry. Uxía Senlle is a Galician singer and a great lover of Portuguese culture.

Verdes são os campos da cor de limão Assim são os olhos do meu coração Campo, que te estendes com verdura bela Ovelhas, que nela vosso pasto tendes De ervas vos mantendes que traz o Verão E eu das lembranças do meu coração Isso que comeis não são ervas, não São graças dos olhos do meu coração

Green are the fields like color of lemon So are the eyes of my sweetheart Field, you extend with beautiful greenery Sheep therein your pasture have With herbs they endure brought by the Summer And I from the memories of my sweetheart What you're eating aren't herbs, no. Are graces from the eyes of my sweetheart

a song for Halloween, take 2

Round of Puckish
They were all together , four hundred witches , waiting waiting , Waiting for the full moon
They were all together , An old snitch came , dancing in the churchyard
Someone died
Arlindo gravedigger , with your hunchback , Take me first , to the open tomb
Arlindo Arlindo, dancer of fairies , Go to-legged , Dig my abode
Arlindo gravedigger , Dig my abode , Close my tomb , I want shallow grave
Arlindo Arlindo , dancer of fairies , Go to-legged , Dig my abode

So this is an amazing cover of this song by the Galician band Moura

May, mellow May

May it's been stormy in South-West Europe 'til now.
Now, yes, it feels like May :}
This is a song of freedom, love for life and work.
There are more than 10 covers of this amazing song around the world. Here's the ones I like most with the original at 1st.
Have a beautiful week :)

May, mellow May, who painted you? _ Who broke your incantation never loved you
The day was dawning there in the South _ And a boat was coming from Istanbul.

Always after nap time, calling the flowers _ It was party day. Lovers May
It was singing day _ And a boat was docking far away.

May, with my friend. I wish already now _ Always in wheat month to sing
What matters the sea roughness? _ May your voice not weaken, let's fight.

In a long street, the shepherd-king _ sells the serum of life that kills the pain
Come and see. May was born _ May your voice not weaken, the mob broke.

a song for Halloween :E

Round of Puckish
They were all together , four hundred witches , waiting waiting , Waiting for the full moon
They were all together , An old snitch came , dancing in the churchyard , Someone died
Arlindo gravedigger , with your hunchback , Take me first , to the open tomb
Arlindo gravedigger , with your hunchback , Take me first , to the open tomb
Arlindo Arlindo, dancer of fairies , Go to-legged , Dig my abode
Arlindo gravedigger , Dig my abode , Close my tomb , I want shallow grave
Arlindo Arlindo , dancer of fairies , Go to-legged , Dig my abode

L O O K

Look, there are not only seagulls onshore, when a man stands thinking. Who's coming there, sleeps at night in the sand, sleeps at night by the sea. And if there is a square of mature people. And a statue, and a statue burning of fever. There's someone searching by the dark night and no one will want to help. Look, the frail figure of that man grubbing the paths of bread. And if there is a square of mature people, no one comes to raise him from the ground.

From Miguel's goodbye.

I read on the newspaper today and I saw on TV news later about a ceremony he predicted as "the Plan B". The Plan A was to surpass his disease.

And so some musicians played and sang in this ceremony. One of the songs was the one below, "sung" on piano by Mário Laginha.

The clip below is about a performance with other two great pianists more, Bernardo Sassetti and Pedro Burmester.

Friend. Bigger than the thought, come down that road, come friend. Don't waste your time, because the wind, is also my friend. .In every lands, In all borders, be welcome who comes for good. If there's someone who doesn't want to, bring him with you too. .Those ones... Those who stayed... (everywhere, worldwide) visited me in dreams. Bring another friend too.

The original song:

Miguel on FaceBook and on Wikipedia.

25 years after

Zeca Afonso (wiki link) was a teacher and also a poet and a song composer and a singer. But he was mainly a fighter against the fascist regime ruled in my country until 1974. As many others, Zeca helped other opponents of the regime. One of these persons who also helped others, was an artist. He was killed by the political police because of his anti-regime activities. The song below tells about it in a very poetic way: "...On the roadsides there are holes made ​​on the ground. And in all of them bloomed roses for a nation ..."

José Afonso died 25 years ago. I stood in shock, as many friends of mine. He's the musical symbol for the change.

Some time after some bands and singers made a tribute concert playing his songs. When a punk band appeared I wasn't expecting to see and feel what I felt. And it was strong and fantastic and plenty of anger and incredibly well played.

Unfortunately the registration below is far from what I saw. It is a post registration in studio with a stupid echo.

This next and short video shows a little the version I watched live:

era um redondo vocábulo

the song that's singing in mind now

It was a round word, a rough sum. Waves were revealed watching all little brothers. Fingers brushes their hairs. Household's wastes. By the stairs of Laura the paint was falling into the empty cabinet. Bringing barbs, calling the phone, killing cockroaches. The anger grew, claiming revenge. By Laura's steps at the dance room... Outside the children were playing and Laura at the waiting room also educates the air...

Olivia

some time ago, I told her goodbye
but now, she's gone forever

Happy Easter

I'd like to give a Fabergé egg.
But one thing i really like this season, is kids searching hidden chocolate eggs. Then, tired but happy, they fall asleep.
So I don't bring an egg, but a lullaby. Not any song, but a special ballad from "Zeca", José Afonso:



Sleep my child, the morning star I searched, but didn't see it.
If it don't come at dawn, another I know will be for you.