New folk music mix tape (it’s not what you’re expecting – I promise)

// March 25th, 2010 // No Comments » // Uncategorized // Uncategorized

After a friend sent an email asking for a soul mix, I decided to make an executive decision and make her a folk mix instead. It’s something I know a lot more about and have some decent connection to the music too. I guess I feel that writing a blog called Noturno e Celeste – perhaps I should say that the UK at the moment is the dark side of things – climatewise, as my last place of residence, Lisbon, is quite celestial currently. So dark and light – Anglo-Saxon and Latin- isn’t it nice to be bridging the gap between our cultures?

Download the mixtape here

Folk music isn’t about boring men with beards and beer and bells on their clothes – it’s about interesting beer drinking, bearded, belled men. Ha! Just kidding. Actually I hope these two archives give you a better idea about folk music from around the world (with a focus between 68-78 in the UK) and how they took the traditional forms of folk and added blues, rock, jazz, Eastern, progressive influences to make something really new and interesting. I’ve missed out some obvious choices, specifically: Fairport Convention, John Martyn and Nick Drake. If you don’t know much about them, please look further – they really are treasures.

Talking of connections with the music, after being out of the country a while, I’m kind of starting to understand a little bit about my culture, heritage and roots. As English people, we don’t really have a strong sense of national identity and pride in ourselves. I’m not going to get started on some Daily Hate diatribe here, but suffice to say, I think there’s room to understand ourselves as a nation – and to preserve those individual characteristics that we have evolved over millennia before they get wiped out by the next generation’s global monoculture. National characteristics and identity don’t have to be at the expense of tolerance of other nations within our own. There is a middle ground between conservation of tradition and evolution of society – between these so-called left and right ideals. Countless generations have passed down folk music into our hands today – and of course we shouldn’t just follow their ideas and forms blindly – but look backwards to see the way forward.

The two discs are a little bit of a hint at the above. One – ‘Old Folk, New Routes’ has a name taken from a Shirley Collins and Davy Graham disc. The music on both the compilation and the aforementioned album (one track is included) it has one and a half feet in the past – and another half looking forwards. Like the foot of folk stuck on one of the cracks in the pavement of time [please read with a pinch of irony]. You’ll find ballads, blues and just a little hint of jazz and rock on this disc. Mostly though, this music will sound more conventional and pleasing to the ear – perhaps more so than straight folk – for the more familiar sounds to be heard within.

The second disc has more of the same, but a little more of the prog/psychedelic folk of the late sixties and early seventies thrown in. A typical example here would be Comus’ ‘Song to Comus’ – and 8 minute long prog-folk opus, which isn’t half as bad as you might think.

If you’re interested in finding more about British folk – you can download the excellent Folk Britannia series here. Let me know if you need some help with that as you’ll need some software to be able to do it. I also owe a debt to the website www.rateyourmusic.com for it’s user generated lists, forums and genre sorting for getting me more recommendations than I know what to do with.

Good luck on your journey into one of the most amazing styles of music – and as always – please let me know if the music has given you something good.

Jim.

Tudo que você podia ser – Everything that you wanted be

// October 9th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // 1970s, Brazil, South America // 1970s, Brazil, South America

Com sol e chuva você sonhava
With sun and rain you were dreaming

As I sit to write these words I no longer feel afraid of what they will become. At the very least I know that something will come.

At last, something is.

The act of human creation is a miracle in itself. In every sense: every act of invention, every work of art, every idea – from silly to smart, every store-cupboard meal thrown together at the last minute, every plan – hatched – and tossed away. This, when I look at it with fresh eyes, gives me a sort of reverence for it. One could almost say it has a certain Godliness. We are more or less the only thing in the known universe (bar some of our hairier relatives) that can do this. From a scribble on a tablecloth during a boring meal, to a masterwork on some slightly more interesting chapel ceiling – we make new things that have never existed before. We bring them into reality using some jelly-like organ on the top of a stick and some helping hands to follow the orders.

Forgive the gross oversimplification. I hope you get the point, but what I want to get into is something else. Why is this act so fleeting? Why is it sometimes we stop ourselves from doing it? Even when we can.

Que ia ser melhor depois
What would be better next

I wrestled with this problem for many years. Some years ago there was a sudden realisation that I was a ‘creative’ person. I could cobble my words together with a little panache, music production and songwriting inspired me, filmmaking and editing seemed to come quite naturally. I worked at improving myself while at the same time enjoying them, and I got better and better.

The act of creation – in an artistic sense at least – has the idea of ‘audience’ tied in with it. So after some time of writing songs, I’d had enough of playing them in my bedroom. I needed to ‘give birth’ so to speak. Why write a song without someone to hear it? Where does the song go when you’ve finished it? Do you just crudely scrawl it down in a notebook and put it away for posterity’s sake – buried in the back garden in a tin can with the Rubick’s cube and your VHS video collection? Well my answer was a resounding “NO!”. Of course not. That would be crazy. “I demand to be listened to!”

In the early stages of developing oneself in an area that has some degree of self-expression, your relationship with the audience is a strange, delicate one that twists around like a snake in the grass. On one hand, you want your audience to hear you. On the other, some of them may not want to. You have to accept that even though you’ve poured your heart and soul into something it may either be reacted to with the desired effect, loathing – or maybe worse – indifference. Creators often feel attachment to their creations. It takes practice to accept that the reaction may not always be what is desired.

Mas não importa não faz mal
But it’s not important, it doesn’t matter

“You didn’t like it?” Our rational side may say one thing: “You wouldn’t know Beethoven from Jive Bunny you blithering idiot!”, “You’re all a bunch of philistines, except you – you clapped even when the others were falling asleep into their beers”, “Well maybe I should pack it in after all, they must be right”. At the two ends of the scale, either the song’s good, or it isn’t. So if they like it, you’re happy – or at least it’s your mum trying to make you feel good. If they don’t, either the song’s good or bad. If it’s good, then they’re just philistines, if it’s bad – start getting better any way you can.

The problems start when this rationalisation gets pushed aside by some more basic part of us – call it ego if you will. This part that wants to be loved, adored or just accepted by the many. Our attachments to our creations can be integrally linked to the aformentioned part of the psyche.

So what’s the point in writing and playing when the people don’t want to hear you?

…A valid point.

This threw me off track for some years and it would fly round my mind when I picked up the guitar. I’d sit there for the briefest of moments before I’d have this feeling of something approaching disgust. Then I’d throw the instrument down and go back to whatever other uncreative thing I was doing. Nose-picking, bottom-scratching – you know, I spent all the time relieving itchiness all over my body.

Só pensa agora em voltar
Just think back now

Some years passed. During which, occassionally at a concert I would have some emotional stirrings – a yearning, a saudade – this was often followed by guilt for no longer following this passion. I ignored these cues and carried on, for four years, without touching a string. I had successfully managed to strangle something that was mine that had been rejected by others.

By chance, and without expectation, I brought my guitar to Spain, where I had been living for some time – and was about to spend a scorching hot summer. I picked the instrument up at a few parties, and realised that I’d changed a little. My voice had become richer and deeper than it was before. I guess I could say I was better. But more – I was enjoying playing the music and I knew I was getting good at making it. The reactions were better, but less important because I knew when I was good – at least when not on the windy side of sober. I felt more in tune with the instrument. I started taking it to the park and writing. The songs were coming back to me. Or at least the ideas. The creativity had woken up, not just with the music, but in general. More ideas were flowing towards me, like vivid autumn leaves falling into the relatively still waters of my consciousness.

The important things I have learnt from this experience are thus:

• Take some time to really master what your chosen creative output might be. If you do it well, you’ll know it – and it won’t matter what anyone says – because you’ll be your own authority.
• Love what you’re doing with a passion. If you don’t, you might want to think about something else. Or at least learn a little more – as that love can also be fleeting if you are not a master of your chosen skill. If you cannot propagate it after some learning, which may help, look elsewhere.
• Don’t approach the act of creation with the quality of the end ‘product’ in mind. Critical thinking too early on in the process can throw water on those creative hot coals. Treat your idea like a germinating seed. Care for it, as it is delicate and the leaves may fall off at any minute. I guess you know what happens after that.

Tudo que você podia ser na estrada
Everything you could be on the road

You could be a rock star with more groupies to hand than healthy blood cells pumping through your heart. You could be a famous dead painter. You could be anything. You could be nothing. As long as you’re doing something that you love, then at least you’re enjoying your time here amongst us monkeys. Do what you love for yourself. Maybe the fame or recognition will come, maybe it’ll pass you by like a monster cruise ship narrowly missing the piece of brittle ice under your feet. It shouldn’t matter. Find your passion and follow where your heart leads you.

Milton Nascimento wrote this in 1972 with Lo Borges. It’s taken from the equally enchanting ‘Clube da Esquina‘ album. The disc has a 4.23 rating on the Rateyourmusic.com website, which ranks it, quite democratically #151 from everything. That’s good.

Com sol e chuva você sonhava
With sun and rain you were dreaming

Que ia ser melhor depois
What would be better next

Você queria ser o grande herói das estradas
You wanted to be the big hero of the roads

Tudo que você queria ser
Everything you wanted to be

Sei um segredo você tem medo
I know a secret you are afraid

Só pensa agora em voltar
Just think back now

Não fala mais na bota e do anel de Zapata
No longer speaks in the boot and Zapata’s ring

Tudo que você devia ser sem medo
All you had to be fearless

E não se lembra mais de mim
And not if you remember me any more

Você não quis deixar que eu falasse de tudo
You didn’t want to let me talk about anything

Tudo que você podia ser na estrada
Everything you wanted to be on the road

Ah! Sol e chuva na sua estrada
Ah Sun and rain on your road

Mas não importa não faz mal
But it’s not important, it doesn’t matter

Você ainda pensa e é melhor do que nada
You still think and it is better than nothing

Tudo que você consegue ser ou nada
All you can be or anything

‘Volando Voy’/'Should I Stay or Should I Go?’

// October 1st, 2009 // 1 Comment » // 1970s, Iberian Peninsula, Spain // 1970s, Iberian Peninsula, Spain

Volando Voy, Volando Vengo.
Flying I go, flying I come.

A few years ago I had a realisation that my lifestyle is kind of different to that of most. I’m a sort of modern-day, educated nomad. I work as an English teacher, making a living from the citizens of the world with the words that my mind somehow absorbed during my infant years. Luckily for us English, our native tongue has been delegated ‘Lingua Franca’ of the world. I could stay and do this in my own country, but why would I want to do that when I have a whole planet to explore?

Staying put in one place is normal for the vast majority of people, but my life is a little different. I’ve just moved to my fourth country in six years. Most people may move forward in their lives, of course, but tend to stay within the borders and boundaries of their own country, culture and language. I seem to have been moving forward not only physically, but towards a some kind of ‘perfect’ place that would seemingly satisfy my every possible need. This search for perfection, is of course, a futile one – like searching for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. But just as a gold miner may strike oil, it has led to the discovery of something more important.

Por el camino, yo me entretengo
On the way, I entertain myself

Imagine if you had the choice to live anywhere in the world. How would you decide?

Why stay at all? Why not carry on indefinitely? Why not enjoy a slow migration around the globe until the day you expire? A life on the road is fun, interesting and adventurous, but after a while upping root every year or two can get tiring. Staying has the benefits of friendship and familiarity. Even once you have met new people it can take quite some time to get familiar with them until you feel you have some level of intimacy. A place to stay, settle, accumulate junk – nuture friendships. Moving your entire life to a new country, mastering a new language (should you choose to do so), making a whole new set of friends – is tiring work indeed.

One of the questions that was prompted in my recent move, asked whether any place can be suitable for any person, or does a specific ‘perfect’ – or at least optimum place exist for you, somewhere in this world? These are two extremes of the same argument, and as with most things, I believe that the answer lies inconveniently somewhere in the grey middle area in betweem the two.

To address the latter first, I believe that there are certain absolutes criteria that apply to individuals. The key is knowing what exactly you want, which is easier said than done. Let’s give a few examples, assuming you’re someone that knows thyself. Lets say you’re someone that needs a lot of sunlight. Perhaps long Winters aren’t the thing for you. Not very good with languages? Already know one of the ‘easier’ Latin ones? Well then, that makes things a little easier. Find ‘insert_nationality_here’ unbearable? Well perhaps take a wide berth. Or at least, invest a little research to see if you might be wrong. This has taken me a little trial and error, but after living in England, Poland and Spain, and now Portugal, I believe I’m a little closer to the truth that lurks inside.

Si tengo frio, busco candela
If I’m cold, I look for a candle

It may sound like a cliche, but once you’ve figured out the things you want, the most important place to feel at home is within yourself. Unfortunately for some people, myself included, that’s another one of those things that falls into the ‘easier said than done’ category. Sure, some places may have more opportunities, culture, better weather, nicer people, easier languages – and these are important things to take into consideration. More importantly to realise, is that the source and foundation of your happiness is something that lies inside. Love, happiness, respect and belief are things that start internally, and grow – exponentially – when they are firmly set in place. External change – be it a flat, a car or a country – may only have a fleeting ‘Honeymooon’ effect on your well-being.

That said, the Honeymoon period in Lisbon is boding well for the future. But things inside have changed too.

James Torr. September 2009.

Here’s the translation. You may also think of the ‘Volando Voy, Volando Vengo’ bit as something like ‘I fly here, I fly there’ but the translation below is literal and pretty much carries the same sense.

volando voy, volando vengo
Flying I go, flying I come

Por el camino yo me entretengo
Along the way I amuse myself

Enamorado de la vida que aveces duele
In love with life that sometimes hurts

Si tengo frio busco candela
If I’m cold I look for fire

Señoras y señores sepan ustedes
Ladies and gentlemen, know

Que la flor de la noche
That the flower of the night

Para quien la merece
(Is) For he who deserves it

Yo no soy quien soy ni los que me quieren
I’m not who I am nor those who love me

Y vola volando voy volando vengo vengo
And Flying I go, flying I come

The name of this blog is…

// October 1st, 2009 // No Comments » // 1960s, 1970s, Brazil, South America // 1960s, 1970s, Brazil, South America

Some friends and I are involved in a ‘mix club’ where we upload mp3 compilations every once in a while. I got the name of this blog from the last mix I made. It’s a Brazilian compilation of some of what I think is the best music you can find, period. Don’t expect Bossa Nova or Samba pure, expect a mixture of Jazz, Rock, Soul, Funk, Folk, Psychedelia, Samba, Bossa – all mixed up in the big melting pot that is Brazilian culture. Most of it was recorded more than 30 years ago. Please feel free to pass it on or let me know how you enjoyed the mix. The link is at the bottom of the page. Well, here’s the email that I included with the mix for the club:

I first got into Brazilian music a couple of years ago when a friend of mine passed some Caetano Veloso onto me. Known as the Brazilian Dylan, his body of work is huge and very strong – and I encourage you to go into plenty of detail if you like what you find here. The track included is from his exile album recorded in London. Guess he didn’t like the weather there, and probably felt a little homesick, as the song – and album it’s from – is quite melancholy.

Encouraged by this discovery, I went through my usual routes of discovery on the internet, and found some amazing websites and primer lists. Joe Sixpack’s amazing website has a wonderful list that will serve as a good primer for anyone who wants to look further. The Jorge Ben recommendations were taken from there – he’s amazing, soulful, melodic. The music washes over you like a warm bath. Brazil’s McCartney to Caetano’s Dylan. Lyrically not quite as good as Veloso, but musically amazing. Baden Powell was also taken from there – not the scout founder – he made an album with singer/lyricist Vinicius De Moraes full of wonderful songs. Mysterious, enigmatic – the female backing and orchestral accompaniments are stunning.

Rateyourmusic.com is also a wonderful website, full of user-generated lists that you may want to spend some time poring through. The Rolling Stone Brazil list is a brilliant introduction. You’ll find most of the albums that these tracks are taken from on there. Highlights include Novos Baianos’ stunning ‘Acabou Chorare’, Elis Regina & Tom Jobim’s ‘Elis e Tom’, Chico Buarque’s ‘Constucao’, Milton Nascimento’s ‘Clube Da Esquina’ and Secos e Molhados’ ‘A Volta de Secos e Molhados’.

Finally, I’ve tried to separate the mix into two parts. ‘Nocturnal’ and ‘Celestial’. The ‘Nocturnal’ is just a cute, fancy way of saying that this music shows the more upbeat, partying side of Brazilian music, the ‘Celestial’ side shows the more mysterious, melancholy, magical – celestial side of the music.

Well I hope you all enjoy. It’s been a wonderful ride getting to know this music. And really, it is right up there with the virtually the best of Western music. Please let me know what you think, as it gives me great pleasure to know that I’ve passed on something that has made a difference to someone else.

Download link

Here is the list of files how it appears in the zip:

01 – Novos Baianos – Tinindo Trincando
02 – Os Mutantes – A Minha Menina
03 – Erasmo Carlos – De Noite, Na Cama
04 – Tim Maia – Ela Partiu (Bonus)
05 – Antonio Carlos Jobim & Elis Regina – Aguas de Marco
06 – Gilberto Gil, Jorge Ben – Quem Mandou (Pe Na Estrada)
07 – Marcos Valle – Garra
08 – Secos & Molhados – Amor
09 – Tom Ze – Mã
10 – Chico Buarque – Construcao
11 – Jorge Ben – Errare Humanum Est
12 – Baden Powell & Vinicius de Moraes – Canto de Ossanha
13 – Caetano Veloso – London, London
14 – Gal Costa – Vapor Barato
15 – Milton Nascimento – Tudo Que Você Podia Ser
16 – Lo Borges – Canção Postal
17 – Quarteto Novo – Algodao
18 – Egberto Gismonti – Magico

Who are you, again? …or what lies between our words

// July 1st, 2009 // No Comments » // 2000s, Iberian Peninsula, Portugal // 2000s, Iberian Peninsula, Portugal

As a quick introduction, each blog post on this site will have a music video at the start with the translation at the end – just scroll down to the bottom of the page while the music is playing. The basic concept of the blog is that each post will have some thematic or subject relation to the content or some lines of the song. In this case, the line ‘who are you, again?’ prompted me to think about communication and what lies between words. Next time, I’m going to use the song ‘Volando Voy’ (‘Flying I go’) to talk about travelling around and my next move to Portugal. I hope you all find some value in what is written here and that you enjoy the content. Please feel free to pass on any feedback and let me know what you think about the blog/writing/content. James.

Imagine you were four again. Now don’t be silly, I know that none of your clothes would fit and your spouse would probably kick you out of the matrimonial bed into a bunk with one of the kids. I’m being serious here.

Can you remember how you got what you wanted? Was it through a dopey smile? Was it chubby finger pointed at your favourite teddy bear with the sick stains on it? Or was it with eyes puppy enough to melt the iciest of hearts? As an infant – one doesn’t wish for more than food, warmth and some ace toys. And depending on how doting the parent – these gestures, basic words and phrases are enough.

When we learn a new language, our ability to communicate with words drops to the level of an infant. Except, as adults, our needs and thoughts are vastly more sophisticated. The comfort of a glass of milk is replaced with the complex flavours and the heady rush of a fine wine. Cheap, plastic cars with wheels that fall off are thrown into the toy hamper in exchange real ones that men drive in order to increase the size of their penises. Or so I’ve heard. Mine’s in the mail.

With adulthood comes a more complex intellectual life. Along the path to being grown up in the modern world, somehow we accumulate a multitude of sophisticated desires. How come we’re so hard to please?

To many expatriates living amongst foreign language speakers, this re-ascension to adulthood is something very real. It is a rewarding path, but it can be fraught with misunderstanding and frustration.

Imagine you were suddenly transformed into a cow in some kind of crazy parlour trick at a wizard’s dinner party. Assuming they didn’t throw your bovine, cud-chewing sirloin arse out right away, what would happen? As the evening continued, perhaps the conversation would turn to the current macro-economic climate. You start to get exited as this is a topic that you’re particularly interested in. After a while, the host passes a question your way.

Fantastic! This is just the moment you’ve been waiting to impress the heffer at the end of the table with those cute udders. Adopting the look of a bull (as opposed to a bear) with finance on his mind, you turn to the table, clear your throat and you prepare to knock the other guests dead with a stunning insight. Suddenly, a solitary, deafening ‘moo’ is emitted from your mouth that seems to resonate around the dinner hall for minutes.  The guests sit stunned silence, then the conversation is directed – swiftly – away from the horned, cloven-hoofed animal that seems to be making an unsightly mess under his seat. Still, the evening wasn’t a complete disaster – at least you left the host something to help his rosebed along.

People need to express themselves and be understood by those around them. When we’re speaking another language, for longer than we can appreciate in the learning process, we can only show part of our personalities. And some times, a moo or an emission of methane isn’t quite enough.

But it’s not all bad. After time, one gets the hang of things and all of a sudden you’re making people laugh (not only at your mistakes), forging relations, learning about a new culture and a different way of seeing the world. Soon you have the best of both worlds – the ability to produce dairy products AND dinner party prowess. This is an immensely satisfying process, as a road fraught with difficulty – but progress, often is.

Por favor diz-me quem és tu, de novo?
Please tell me who are you, again?

The reality is that we’re all at different levels of ability in communicating, even in our own languages. Imagine conversation as two tennis players hitting a ball back and forth across a net. Some people, including a lot of adults, can barely hit a ball; while others seem to have an innate gift or at least an acquired skill of a pro. They can spin their verbal balls back and forth down the tram lines like a linguistic equivalent of Tim Henman – or someone better. Indeed, I wonder what the state of English tennis – according to this metaphor – says about the level of English conversation?

Language is only a tool for communication, but we assume that everyone is an expert at using it. We think that people are adept at saying what they mean, and we make great assumptions when we hear the words of others. However, we often don’t stop to think about – or even ask whether our interpretations are correct. The next time you feel your congested arteries taking another step towards the heart bypass operating theatre because of some offhand remark, ask the offending speaker, ‘What did you mean by that?’. If they confirm your interpretation, at least you will have some justification if you get the hump, pour a beer over their head – or invade their country.

What’s more, to add to the confounded confusion of it all, as if this world isn’t hard enough to navigate without having to learn how to emit all these funny sounds from our mouths, there’s more. Firstly, one often has to learn to look between words for what someone wants to say as they may not want to say it outright. A solitary ‘moo’ can mean a million things. An ‘I love you’ may be not be offered literally until it is too late. It is up to us to interpret these signals and look for meaning beyond what is actually said – between the words. Isn’t being grown up confusing?

E o meu olhar tem razões que o coração não frequenta
And my look has reasons that my heart doens’t attend

The next problem is that not everyone understands what they want to say, or indeed, why they they’re saying it. Thoughts and feelings can be hidden to ourselves so well that what lies beneath is obscured, even to the speaker. We often reflect on comments made large, aggressive-looking men with the tattoos on their eyeballs. Then we wonder why that particular message came out through our now, broken, teeth. We live under an illusion that we are in control of our words, but often that is not the case.

My final point is that I don’t want to leave you, dear reader, confused and hopeless. The next step on from this isn’t nihlism or even a sense of exasperation and frustration. I want you to realise that words and language are something wonderful, something miraculous, ever-evolving – and something that makes us the most unique beings on this planet. What comes out of your mouth every day at a rate of a few hundred words per minute is something really special.

But they’re not you.

They’re not him, or her, they’re not that woman on the telly or that bloke sat next to the bar all day. Words are just ideas humming like a swarm of mosquitoes around in our heads that transform into sounds connected together by grammar and abritrarily agreed meaning. And they are limited in their scope. Limited by the number of concepts they describe, limited by their construction, by the speaker and the audience. They don’t know what we want to say. We don’t even know what we want to say half the time. But we can shape them into something close.

E toda a verdade em ti é coisa incerta e tão vasta
And all the truth in you is something uncertain and so vast

Words can paint pictures as well as burn them. Words can enliven and shape the world around us as well as destroy it. Words can give us hope and joy, fear and pain. They can give us new tomorrows or make us forget about our yesterdays. Mould them into a melody and string them atop a piano or an electric guitar and they can create something next to godliness – or the next Eurovision failure. Words can change the world, they can stop and start wars. Learn how to use them. Learn to understand that not everyone can.

And ask yourself next time: ‘what does that person really want to say?’. Then maybe ask them. At least before you get the first punch in.

Jorge Palma – Quem És Tu De Novo? (Who are you, again?)

Translation by Tatiana. Thanks!

Quando a janela se fecha e se transforma num ovo
When the window closes and tranforms into an egg

Ou se desfaz em estilhaços de céu azul e magenta
Or it breaks into fragments of blue and magenta skies

E o meu olhar tem razões que o coração não frequenta
And my look has reasons that my heart doens’t attend

Por favor diz-me quem és tu, de novo?
Please tell me who are you, again?

Quando o teu cheiro me leva às esquinas do vislumbre
When your smell drives me to the corners of glimpse

E toda a verdade em ti é coisa incerta e tão vasta
And all the truth in you is somethins uncertain and so vast

Quem sou eu para negar que a tua presença me arrasta?
Who am I to deny that your presence drags me?

Quem és tu, na imensidão do deslumbre?
Who are you, in the greatness of dazzle?

As redes são passageiras, as arquitecturas da fuga
The nets are just passing by, the arquitectures of escape

De toda a água que corre, de todo o vento que passa
Of all the water that runs, of all the wind that passes

Quando uma teia se rasga ergo à lua a minha taça
When a spiderweb tears apart I rise my cup to the moon

E vejo nascer no espelho mais uma ruga
And see in the mirror another wrinkle being born

Quando o tecto se escancara e se confunde com a lua
When the ceiling opens wide and is confused with the moon

A apontar-me o caminho melhor do que qualquer estrela
Pointing out the way better than any star

Ninguém me faz duvidar que foste sempre a mais bela
Nobody makes me doubt the you were always the prettier one

Por favor, diz-me que és alguém, de novo?
Please tell me who is anyone, again?