São Luís do Maranhão
I
São Luís há sobradões, ermidas
e lembram do passado o tempo nobre,
a beleza sem par, que não se encobre
o silêncio das coisas esquecidas.
Pelas ruas estreitas e avenidas,
quanta história de amor! Basta se dobre
uma esquina e, de novo, rico ou pobre,
vibram no coração doces feridas!
Ah! tudo em São Luís vira poesia
na saudade que vem, terna saudade,
que nos maltrata e nos alivia.
E sonhando um amor, espero, ainda,
rever a terra da felicidade,
que tanto quero, com ternura infinda.
II
Estou em São Luís e, novamente,
cantarola em meu peito um amor antigo.
Digo num verso comovido e ardente,
tudo o que sinto como meu castigo.
Por uma rua ensolarada sigo
e meu pensar, talvez, ninguém pressente.
Ah! meu sonho de amor, que ainda persigo!
Ai! saudade que fere ferozmente!
Pelas praças, que flores perfumosas!
O sol as beija como beija as rosas
dos lábios da mulher que se quer bem.
São Luís é a cidade da ternura...
Em cada canto um sonho meu perdura,
perdura, em cada canto, o olhar de alguém.
St. Louis - TRADUCTION
I
St. Louis is sobradões, chapels
and remember the last time noble
unparalleled beauty, which covers not
the silence of forgotten things.
Narrow streets and avenues,
how love story! Just bend
a corner and, again, rich or poor,
vibrate in the heart wounds sweet!
Ah! all of St. Louis becomes poetry
longing that comes in, tender longing,
mistreat us and relieve us
And dreaming of love, hope, yet,
review the land of happiness,
that both want, with endless tenderness.
II
I'm in St. Louis and again
hums in my chest an old love.
I say a verse moved and burning
all I feel like my punishment.
For a street sunshine follow
and my thinking, perhaps, no one anticipates.
Ah! My dream of love, that still chase!
Ouch! fiercely longing that hurts!
The squares, that fragrant flowers!
The sun kisses the roses and kisses
the lips of the woman you want as well.
St. Louis is the city of tenderness ...
In every corner of my dream endures
lingers in every corner, the look of someone.
I
St. Louis is sobradões, chapels
and remember the last time noble
unparalleled beauty, which covers not
the silence of forgotten things.
Narrow streets and avenues,
how love story! Just bend
a corner and, again, rich or poor,
vibrate in the heart wounds sweet!
Ah! all of St. Louis becomes poetry
longing that comes in, tender longing,
mistreat us and relieve us
And dreaming of love, hope, yet,
review the land of happiness,
that both want, with endless tenderness.
II
I'm in St. Louis and again
hums in my chest an old love.
I say a verse moved and burning
all I feel like my punishment.
For a street sunshine follow
and my thinking, perhaps, no one anticipates.
Ah! My dream of love, that still chase!
Ouch! fiercely longing that hurts!
The squares, that fragrant flowers!
The sun kisses the roses and kisses
the lips of the woman you want as well.
St. Louis is the city of tenderness ...
In every corner of my dream endures
lingers in every corner, the look of someone.
