A cidade e os campos

Longe das aldeias, longe das casas

Ouvimos cantar todas as fontes

E na solidão dos velhos montes

Beijamos as águas dos ribeiros

Mas de tudo já esqueceste

Neste mundo tudo muda

Agora estou triste e sozinho

Nesta cidade escura e fria

Onde a vida é uma agonia

Minha vida

Vida

© Madredeus

Son cuatro días

Duerme la ciudad y en un local oscuro junto al mar
está tocando un músico de jazz.
Miras hacia mí y en tus ojos cansados puedo ver
que hay un nombre escrito de mujer.
De su guitarra se van notas de fuego;
los acordes de cristal, hacia la eternidad.
Viejas canciones de amor, viejos poemas.
Entre el humo y el alcohol, la noche suena a jazz.

Duerme la ciudad y una muchacha negra entra en el bar.
Parece borracha -a ver quién no lo está-.
Duerme la ciudad y una muchacha negra entra en el bar

Grita que los blancos huelen mal.
Años luz de soledad. Recuérdame cuando me vaya.
Besa el mar la arena gris y en la ciudad la noche canta.
Son cuatro días. La noche canta.
Sentado en un rincón mirando a dos gatos retozar.
Triste estampa ser rey de la creación,
mientras toca un músico de jazz.
De su guitarra se van notas de fuego;
los acordes de cristal, hacia la eternidad.
Viejas canciones de amor, viejos poemas.
Entre el humo y el alcohol, la noche suena a jazz.
Años luz de soledad. Recuérdame cuando me vaya.
Besa el mar la arena gris y en la ciudad la noche canta.
Son cuatro días. La noche canta...

© El último de la fila

Of a summer morn'

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

Henry David Thoreau dixit
Música © Nightnoise

Inside looking out

To touch the sky
A dreamer must be
Someone who has more imagination than me

To reach the stars
A dreamer must fly
Somehow he must live more of a lifetime than I
For sands of time won't wait
And it may be too late

Now is the hour and the moment
Don't let the chance go by
Your ship is sailing with the high tide
And all your dreams are on the inside

On the inside looking out, on the inside looking out
Looking out, looking out, looking out

To change the world
A dreamer must be
Someone who has more determination than me

To free his soul
A dreamer must fly
Somewhere he must find a better reason than I
The hands of time won't wait
And we may be too late

Now is the hour and the moment
Don't let a day pass by
Your ship is sailing with the high tide
You could be standing on the inside
On the inside looking out, on the inside looking out
On the inside looking out, on the inside looking out
Looking out, looking out, looking out

© The Alan Parsons Project

What it is?

The drinking dens are spilling out
There's staggering in the square
There's lads and lasses falling about
And a crackling in the air
Down around the dungeon doors
The shelters in the queues
Everybody's looking for
Somebody's arms to fall into
And it's what it is
It's what it is now

There's frost on the graves and the monuments
But the taverns are warm in town
People curse the government
And shovel hot food down
The lights are out in city hall
The castle and the keep
The moon shines down upon it all
The legless and asleep

And it's cold on a tollgate
With the wagons creeping through
Cold on a tollgate
God knows what I could do with you
And it’s what it is
It's what it is now

The garrison sleeps and the citadel
With the ghosts and the ancient stones
High up on the parapet
A Scottish piper stands alone
And high on the wind
The highland drums begin to roll
And something from the past just comes
And stares into my soul

And it's cold on a tollgate
Where the Caledonian blues
Cold on a tollgate
God knows what I could do with you
And it’s what it is
It's what it is now
What it is
It's what it is now

There's a chink of light
There's a burning wick
There's a lantern in the tower
Wee Willie Winkie with a candlestick
Still writing songs in the wee wee hours
On Charlotte Street I take
A walking stick from my hotel
The ghost of Dirty Dick
Is still in search of Little Nell
And it's what it is
It's what it is now
Oh it's what it is
What it is now

© Mark Knopfler

Body & Soul

“Salary is no object: I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.”

Dorothy Parker

Music © Glenn Miller

Lullaby

Calla mi vida,
no hay que llorar,
duerme y sueña feliz.

Siempre tú debes

mi arrullo llevar,
así yo estaré junto a ti.

Nana tradicional

Música © George Gershwin

Sweet little mistery

My love has taken a tumble
Oh, but I’m still standing
You’re such a natural, sing,
That’s what you are

Say I wouldn’t steer you wrong now baby
I wouldn’t steer you wrong

It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,
It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,

Didn’t I come resisting this sight of wonder?
Didn’t I come insisting the higher decision?
Didn’t I come resisting this sight of wonder?
To your life

Say I wouldn’t steer you wrong now baby
I wouldn’t steer you wrong

It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,
It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,

Oh, just think of the magic
Don’t think it is tragic,
Just think of the magic

Come on listen

My love has taken a tumble
My love has taken a tumble
My love has taken a tumble
But I’m still standing

It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try,
It’s just that sweet little mystery
That makes me try

© Wet Wet Wet