Like Dylan…

I was sitting in a bar with a couple of friends
and they asked me “where that girl came from?”
I replied “who?”. But i knew who they’re were talking to
It was the girl born right before the harvest moon.

I kept playing fool, so they started to describe
“It’s that red haired girl, with bright ambar eyes”
“I can’t remember well” said i. “It was a single night”
But i lied. How could i forget those deer thighs?

I gave myself a break and said i’d “take a walk”
A friend offered to come, i told him “nevermind”
“I’ll just check the other bar and be back in a while”
Though it would last as long as a trade wind of beguile.

After a few steps it became easier to remind
We were both drunk, but further more was i
She got me by the hand and our fingers entwined,
Then left me a sigh, like the waves on early July.

We got home and she didn’t kept her clothes on for long
Her back was straight and the hair descended on her backbone
Like dandelion’s overblown in her laugh of a sea mile
And her sweat drips her lap alike the well of the Nile.

I believe this girl dropped from a pomegranate tree
She tastes the juice of its seeds while i stand by her knees
Contort your legs around my head and hold me until i stun
Cross my lips on your tongue from the days of raining sun.

The clock hits 6 AM and i wait for the starting day to rise
I hope my friends didn’t wait in the bar. I actually don’t mind
Funny to see how everyday is like another night we met
Even you being so far away from here, just as me, as yet.

These are the streets of men
Smelling lemon and cheap alcohol
Pouring another drink from their plastic cup
Laughing in a false spark of joy

All the girls are already taken
There are only men in the sidewalks
They bump you walking forward
Last cry of their manhood

Perhaps the girls just went home
without someone to bare their chest
They can’t descend to the bottom
At least they can’t be seen that way.

I’ve seen two girls with their hands crossed
Nevertheless they seemed lonely
There you go, another hopeless evening
But you still got someone to lay your fingers

They walk looking straight, ignoring
All the men on their way, shouting
Praises to girls with no name
Soon they’re back to the streets of men

To them, the leftovers, is all that remains
Celebrating the loneliness they share
Nobody says a word but we all know
The sun is rising and they’ll sleep alone

Tu dizes ser à moda antiga,
tudo bem, querida,
mas, então, eu devo ser
de uma moda mais antiga ainda.

How pretty do you feel tonight?
You dress a nice black gown
and a smile from ear to ear
But there is something missing, isn’t it?

You hang out with your last nite friends
They can tell you some soft words
Your well-shaped legs exposed
to the light of the lamposts.

And you’ll drink a few shots of tequila
The poor bottle is the usual suspect
It’s strange, but it is not to blame,
whenever someone takes off your dress.

Don’t you feel a bit naked?
With your make-up —- Your dark shades
so easily ruined by a single tear
streaming down your cheeks.

Is there someone to clean them up?
And feel that sweet taste of salt
But there’s nothing to worry about
if you’re feeling pretty tonight

You may ask the mirror, a hobo or a clown
They all will shout how pretty you are
But doesn’t matter how many times you tell that to yourself,
still, there’s something missing.

Perhaps, if you look above,
you might see your reflex in the stars
They will tell you lots of things
But not how wonderful you are

Stars fall, so does kings
But you can’t do that, right, babe?
If you stand on your knees
Your dress would be full of sand.

When you get home, the parade will be gone
But what thought will flash by your mind?
Will be the tasteless kiss from the strangers
you use to make yourself blind?

Hopefully, there will be the day
Where will you’ll wake up with a headache
but you’ll feel beautiful again
like in those days you were mine.

The city lights are blurry now
it might be the spark of rain
hiding deep in my eye

I’m not surprised all this happened
by the day the music died
I can’t feel the tune shivering my eardrums no more

i remember your complaint about my soundless chest
but now i see why broken hearts don’t beat.

Li sobre a leoa que se deitou no sol,
ufanista com razão de seus pêlos dourados.
Invejoso, o sol, lhe propôs um desafio:
Somente se iluminares mais que eu
acharás um amor para sua vida.

Depois de tentar algumas vezes, desistiu.
Iluminavas nem seu caminho, quem dera de alguém.
Seguiu procurando um lugar onde houvesse só ela.
Saiu até do alcance de seu respirar.
Entretanto, um dia, tropeçou.

Que pedra foi essa que ficou em seu caminho?
Uma sombra surgida no meio do limbo?
Então ela deu meia-volta e retornou

Gravetos cravados em suas patas,
os quais não a tocaram na ida.
Sentiu um vento que a pungiu o peito.
Tiro certo que a partiu o coração.
Até que surgiu seu autor.

Delicadamente ele a levou para longe
e plantou uma semente de flor em seu peito ferido

Marcaram os passos da volta e recomeçaram
Imitaram os pássaros e se guiavam em carinho
Mexeu com a leoa o fato de que brilhara para alguém.

You’re just like your tattoo.
Everyone praises how it looks
but no one knows what is written.

May i take you by the elbow
like those cowboys in the movies?
How narrow is the meadow
When you want to heal your bruises?

What hurts you in the marrow?
Is it the strength of your beauty?
When the strings of a cello
sound like pure cruelty?

Does your hair lie down yellow
or does it shine just like a ruby,
when it blends the air in an echo
and speaks loud and truly?

Sai de lá cabisbaixo, dei meu último sorriso para ela e depois me cobri de seriedade. Caminhei pelas ruas sem expressar um fino relampejo de alegria. Não sabia quanto a felicidade duraria e queria guardá-la toda para mim. Não poderia deixar o mundo roubá-la e o mundo anseiava por um deslize meu. Senti uma cócega no pescoço a qual nem me incomodei no princípio, mas depois notei que era um fio de cabelo dela. Deixei-o lá. Era o que restou de seu toque aliado à lembrança. Ao quase esboçar um qualquer possível sorriso logo me fechava e olhava ao redor para me certificar que nada tinha escapado. Fazia tudo antes de qualquer brisa me roubar um pedaço de felicidade. Cheguei na porta de meu apartamento, olhei para os lados e havia ninguém, tirei o fio dourado dela de meu pescoço e guardei em minha carteira, fechei-a, mas não sem antes ter certeza de que ele estava confortável ali dentro, e dei um sorriso para mim. Só para mim. De você.

She took me out of bed
Two hours after i slept
She didn’t ring my cellphone
it was a Bob Dylan’s song
guided through my earphones

It tears me into shreds
Most of the time, i respect
but tonight i want it blown
like that bob dylan’s song
i listen when i’m alone.