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Aniversários

por Tempos Modernos, em 23.02.18

 

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 19:01

"Ah'm tired of livin'/An' skeered of dyin'"

por Tempos Modernos, em 27.12.16

 

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 18:27

"Essa é pro querido ouvinte/Do Interior"

por Tempos Modernos, em 15.11.16

 

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 13:52

"Cáli-ce"

por Tempos Modernos, em 04.11.16

 

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 17:18

 

 

Desolation Row

 

They're selling postcards of the hanging, they're painting the passports brown

The beauty parlor is filled with sailors, the circus is in town

Here comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a trance

One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants

And the riot squad they're restless, they need somewhere to go

As Lady and I look out tonight, from Desolation Row

 

Cinderella, she seems so easy, "It takes one to know one, " she smiles

And puts her hands in her back pockets Bette Davis style

And in comes Romeo, he's moaning. "You Belong to Me I Believe"

And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend, you'd better leave"

And the only sound that's left after the ambulances go

Is Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row

 

Now the moon is almost hidden, the stars are beginning to hide

The fortune telling lady has even taken all her things inside

All except for Cain and Abel and the hunchback of Notre Dame

Everybody is making love or else expecting rain

And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing, he's getting ready for the show

He's going to the carnival tonight on Desolation Row

 

Ophelia, she's 'neath the window for her I feel so afraid

On her twenty-second birthday she already is an old maid

To her, death is quite romantic she wears an iron vest

Her profession's her religion, her sin is her lifelessness

And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow

She spends her time peeking into Desolation Row

 

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood with his memories in a trunk

Passed this way an hour ago with his friend, a jealous monk

Now he looked so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette

And he when off sniffing drainpipes and reciting the alphabet

You would not think to look at him, but he was famous long ago

For playing the electric violin on Desolation Row

 

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world inside of a leather cup

But all his sexless patients, they're trying to blow it up

Now his nurse, some local loser, she's in charge of the cyanide hole

And she also keeps the cards that read, "Have Mercy on His Soul"

They all play on the penny whistles, you can hear them blow

If you lean your head out far enough from Desolation Row

 

Across the street they've nailed the curtains, they're getting ready for the feast

The Phantom of the Opera in a perfect image of a priest

They are spoon feeding Casanova to get him to feel more assured

Then they'll kill him with self-confidence after poisoning him with words

And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls, "Get outta here if you don't know"

Casanova is just being punished for going to Desolation Row"

 

At midnight all the agents and the superhuman crew

Come out and round up everyone that knows more than they do

Then they bring them to the factory where the heart-attack machine

Is strapped across their shoulders and then the kerosene

Is brought down from the castles by insurance men who go

Check to see that nobody is escaping to Desolation Row

 

Praise be to Nero's Neptune, the Titanic sails at dawn

Everybody's shouting, "Which side are you on?!"

And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot fighting in the captain's tower

While calypso singers laugh at them and fishermen hold flowers

Between the windows of the sea where lovely mermaids flow

And nobody has to think too much about Desolation Row

 

Yes, I received your letter yesterday, about the time the doorknob broke

When you asked me how I was doing, was that some kind of joke

All these people that you mention, yes, I know them, they're quite lame

I had to rearrange their faces and give them all another name

Right now, I can't read too good, don't send me no more letters no

Not unless you mail them from Desolation Row

 

Bob Dylan, 1965

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 22:12

 

 

L'amour

 

Quand y'a la mer et puis les chevaux

Qui font des tours comme au ciné

Mais que dans tes bras c'est bien plus beau

Quand y'a la mer et puis les chevaux

 

Quand la raison n'a plus raison

Et que nos yeux jouent à se renverser

Et qu'on ne sait plus qui est le patron

Quand la raison n'a plus raison

 

Quand on raterait la fin du monde

Et qu'on vendrait l'éternité

Pour cette éternelle seconde

Quand on raterait la fin du monde

 

Quand le diable nous voit pâlir

Quand y'a plus moyen de dessiner

La fleur d'amour qui va s'ouvrir

 

Quand la machine a démarré

Quand on ne sait plus bien où l'on est

Et qu'on attend ce qui va se passer

 

... je t'aime!

 

Leo Ferré, 1956

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 18:41

 

 

Redondo Vocábulo

 

Era um redondo vocábulo

Uma soma agreste

Revelavam-se ondas

Em maninhos dedos

Polpas seus cabelos

Resíduos de lar,

Pelos degraus de Laura

A tinta caía

No móvel vazio,

Congregando farpas

Chamando o telefone

Matando baratas

A fúria crescia

Clamando vingança,

Nos degraus de Laura

No quarto das danças

Na rua os meninos

Brincando e Laura

Na sala de espera

Inda o ar educa

 

José Afonso, 1972

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 17:05

 

Le Moribond

 

Adieu l'Émile je t'aimais bien

Adieu l'Émile je t'aimais bien tu sais

On a chanté les mêmes vins

On a chanté les mêmes filles

On a chanté les mêmes chagrins

Adieu l'Émile je vais mourir

C'est dur de mourir au printemps tu sais

Mais je pars aux fleurs la paix dans l'âme

Car vu que tu es bon comme du pain blanc

Je sais que tu prendras soin de ma femme

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Je veux qu'on s'amuse comme des fous

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Quand c'est qu'on me mettra dans le trou

Adieu Curé je t'aimais bien

Adieu Curé je t'aimais bien tu sais

On n'était pas du même bord

On n'était pas du même chemin

Mais on cherchait le même port

Adieu Curé je vais mourir

C'est dur de mourir au printemps tu sais

Mais je pars aux fleurs la paix dans l'âme

Car vu que tu étais son confident

Je sais que tu prendras soin de ma femme

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Je veux qu'on s'amuse comme des fous

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Quand c'est qu'on me mettra dans le trou

Adieu l'Antoine je t'aimais pas bien

Adieu l'Antoine je t'aimais pas bien tu sais

J'en crève de crever aujourd'hui

Alors que toi tu es bien vivant

Et même plus solide que l'ennui

Adieu l'Antoine je vais mourir

C'est dur de mourir au printemps tu sais

Mais je pars aux fleurs la paix dans l'âme

Car vu que tu étais son amant

Je sais que tu prendras soin de ma femme

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Je veux qu'on s'amuse comme des fous

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Quand c'est qu'on me mettra dans le trou

Adieu ma femme je t'aimais bien

Adieu ma femme je t'aimais bien tu sais

Mais je prends le train pour le Bon Dieu

Je prends le train qui est avant le tien

Mais on prend tous le train qu'on peut

Adieu ma femme je vais mourir

C'est dur de mourir au printemps tu sais

Mais je pars aux fleurs les yeux fermés ma femme

Car vu que je les ai fermés souvent

Je sais que tu prendras soin de mon âme

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Je veux qu'on s'amuse comme des fous

Je veux qu'on rie, je veux qu'on danse

Quand c'est qu'on me mettra dans le trou

 

Jacques Brel, 1961

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 15:54

 

Construção

 

Amou daquela vez como se fosse a última

Beijou sua mulher como se fosse a última

E cada filho seu como se fosse o único

E atravessou a rua com seu passo tímido

Subiu a construção como se fosse máquina

Ergueu no patamar quatro paredes sólidas

Tijolo com tijolo num desenho mágico

Seus olhos embotados de cimento e lágrima

Sentou pra descansar como se fosse sábado

Comeu feijão com arroz como se fosse um príncipe

Bebeu e soluçou como se fosse um náufrago

Dançou e gargalhou como se ouvisse música

E tropeçou no céu como se fosse um bêbado

E flutuou no ar como se fosse um pássaro

E se acabou no chão feito um pacote flácido

Agonizou no meio do passeio público

Morreu na contramão atrapalhando o tráfego

 

Amou daquela vez como se fosse o último

Beijou sua mulher como se fosse a única

E cada filho seu como se fosse o pródigo

E atravessou a rua com seu passo bêbado

Subiu a construção como se fosse sólido

Ergueu no patamar quatro paredes mágicas

Tijolo com tijolo num desenho lógico

Seus olhos embotados de cimento e tráfego

Sentou pra descansar como se fosse um príncipe

Comeu feijão com arroz como se fosse o máximo

Bebeu e soluçou como se fosse máquina

Dançou e gargalhou como se fosse o próximo

E tropeçou no céu como se ouvisse música

E flutuou no ar como se fosse sábado

E se acabou no chão feito um pacote tímido

Agonizou no meio do passeio náufrago

Morreu na contramão atrapalhando o público

 

Amou daquela vez como se fosse máquina

Beijou sua mulher como se fosse lógico

Ergueu no patamar quatro paredes flácidas

Sentou pra descansar como se fosse um pássaro

E flutuou no ar como se fosse um príncipe

E se acabou no chão feito um pacote bêbado

Morreu na contra-mão atrapalhando o sábado

 

Chico Buarque, 1971

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 13:39

 

Famous Blue Raincoat

 

It's four in the morning, the end of December

I'm writing you now just to see if you're better

New York is cold, but I like where I'm living

There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

 

I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert

You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

 

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair

She said that you gave it to her

That night that you planned to go clear

Did you ever go clear?

 

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older

Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder

You'd been to the station to meet every train

And you came home without Lili Marlene

 

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life

And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

 

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth

One more thin gypsy thief

Well I see Jane's awake

 

She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer

What can I possibly say?

I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you

I'm glad you stood in my way.

 

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me

Well your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

 

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes

I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

 

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair

She said that you gave it to her

That night that you planned to go clear

 

Leonard Cohen, 1971

 

 

Autoria e outros dados (tags, etc)

publicado às 11:13


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