There are in the French lyrics some subtle references to Brel.

Malheureusement tout peut s'oublier, c'est tellement facile...
Oublier le temps qu'on s'est fait tromper, c'est tellement pénible...
Pour les vrais truands c'est jamais assez horrible.
Tas de riz tentant, tas de rats tentés.
Mais il faut bien causer pour marchander le prix du sang.
Diplomacie: Je me demande ce qu'on vient faire ici.
Et quand vient le soir, pour qu'un ciel flamboie,
il faut bombarder tous ceux qui ne croient pas.
Tas de riz tentant, tas de rats tentés, c'est tellement horrible.
J'ai perdu mon temps à vouloir sauver les cibles.

Diplomacie

Well, I'm a grandpa now, so I recorded this to celebrate my new status.

DANIEL

Daniel came into this world and made my day.
Snow was falling in Utah so far away.
Hope you'll find there lots of love, and, if you cry,
your dad will sing you lullabies.

Soon you will become a man, and I'll be gone.
I hope you'll find then what it means to have a son.
Will you hold him in your arms, and, if he cries,
will you sing him lullabies?

Someday we may just be names once carved in stone,
and the memories of our birth will all be gone.
Others will comfort their children as they cry.
But will they sing them lullabies?

Daniel

A poem from my late father. An old tape I recovered.

** Sinfonia dos Mundos **

Que faço aqui, eu que vou
tentando o verso e a prosa
num Cosmos que começou
por uma explosão monstruosa?

Que tenho a ver com o percurso
do hélio e do hidrogénio,
com o teórico discurso
desses físicos de génio,
que tentam aprisionar
o real em equações,
e compatibilizar
galáxias e electrões?

Nada tenho. E, no entanto,
leio seus livros profundos,
buscando a chave do canto
da sinfonia dos mundos.

Sinfonia Dos Mundos

This is the opening tune of the Mediterrâneo piece. Sadly, it remains quite actual. Here I sing with my brother Pedro.

*** Lágrimas na Chuva ***

Choram nos peitos sem leite as bocas dos condenados.
Nascidos num mundo errado, eles nem entram na corrida.
Eles passam timidamente, sem malícia e sem pecado.
Definham discretamente, sem arauto e sem alarde,
e morrem sem ser notados, como lágrimas na chuva.

Lágrimas Na Chuva

A Portuguese Cyrano, how would he be?

I have an older version (not published here in SoundCloud) with a faster tempo. Here I tried to slow it down to see if it still works.


Nascido para vencer,
senhor do meu nariz.
Mas tu podes crer:
Nunca serei nada neste país
à beira-mar plantado.
Já não escapo do meu fado.
Só me resta ser feliz.

E as melodias, e os sonhos desta arte
seguem-nos,
seguem-nos por toda a parte.
E ao partirmos com as lembranças,
com o talento, com a esperança e o sentimento
de uma nova madrugada,
é um novo dia, cheio de versos, de poesia,
e a suave companhia de umas tágides anafadas.
E as doces brisas, e os furacões da sorte
levam-nos
levam-nos para além da morte.

Porque a vida eterna é esta:
Que te conheçam a ti só
por único Deus verdadeiro
e a teu filho, a quem enviaste.

E, ao repousar na terra,
os corpos unem-se às raízes
e as vidas áridas e estéreis
crescem lindas e felizes.

Nascido para vencer, senhor deste país.
Mas tu podes crer: Nunca serei dono do meu nariz
na face mal plantado.
Já não escapo do meu fado.
Só me resta ser feliz.

Nascido Para Vencer (2024)

A peculiar peace invades the heart when we do the right thing.

Uma estranha paz invade o coração
quando se faz o bem.
Sou bem capaz de amar o bem
só pela paz que ao mundo vem
quando Deus entorna o céu.

E, se eu chegar ao céu, serei um rio de Deus
para dar de beber aos filhos meus.
E, se eu chegar ao céu, em rio me irei tornar
para ver os meus filhos navegar.

O amor é luz, não se apaga.
Brilha para sempre no tempo.
Enche de paz a minha alma.
Onde há amor não há medo.

Uma Estranha Paz

Just the plain text of Isaiah chapter 9 verse 6, announcing the birth of the promised Messiah. It's also part of my Isaiah full project.

Porque um menino nos nasceu, um filho se nos deu, e o principado está sobre os seus ombros. E o seu nome será Maravilhoso, Conselheiro, Deus Forte, Pai da Eternidade, Príncipe da Paz.

Isaías 9:6

What is now?
What is now?
What you see from me is already in the past.
For sure it's a short time lapse, a small fraction of a second.
Light is fast, and there's just a few steps separating our pains.
Will you please now forgive me?
Will you please now forgive me?
Behind what you now see, there is already a different man.

Time Lapse (Based on Anastasyia and David de Michele instrumental)

Dedicated to the early Christians possibly worshiping in the catacombs. Actually, the idea that the catacombs were used as hiding places is disputed. But I've used it anyway. And "damnatio ad bestias" did certainly happen.

*** Leaving Rome ***

The sand of the arena is warm and soft
and it will soon be soaked with the sufferings of life.
Simply to believe has become complicated,
but no man can hide forever in dark places.
Today I stand and open my arms to the upright Sun.
As brothers start falling, the crowd yells and asks for more.
I now contemplate my last and few unpleasant options:
The jaws of lions, the claws of bears, the cruelty of swords.
Strangely enough, there is peace in my soul.
No fears. No regrets.
One way or another, I'm leaving Rome.
I'm leaving Rome…

Leaving Rome JFC (based on Debra Buesking / Stefan Kraft instrumental)

I watched some years ago a TED presentation, and I was impressed by an interesting idea about sheep and sheperds. I do not recall the topic of the presentation nor the identity of the presenter. Here I wrote down the basic idea in my words and made some extrapolation regarding our human condition.

Javier Valero track I used with permission is found in https://soundcloud.com/jvaleroalb/rpr07_64/comment-2292988850

*** MORNING PRAYER *** 

How clever of sheep to acquire shepherds!
Doing so, they outsource their protection from predators
their food finding, their health maintenance.
All that for just a small loss of freedom.
They can even afford to be more stupid
than their relatives trying to survive in the wild.
And that is why, at each new dawn, 
I prostrate myself and praise the Lord, 
the Gracious, the Merciful, saving us from extinction.    
Thanks to Him, I can afford to be a mindless idiot.

Sheeheep.wav by HerbertBoland -- https://freesound.org/s/75190/ -- License: Attribution 4.0

Sheep in a field on the top of a mountain in Bask Country by felix.blume -- https://freesound.org/s/138424/ -- License: Creative Commons 0

Morning Prayer (Based on Javier Valero Piano Piece)

In specific domains of human reasoning, like the games of Chess and Go, AI is now outmatching the best human capabilities. Music creation is now being explored, with already quite pleasant results. This is dedicated to the AI that may someday replace us. It's a sci-fi short story, describing a musician's last desperate attempt to stay afloat... 

*** Last Human Musician ***

Rats! Another pointless meeting with an automated record label!…
They showed a total lack of vision regarding my new music genre proposal.
I did explain it was not a matter of taste. At most, a matter of smell.
How comes they don't see the assured success of Explicit WC Pop?
A most promising new genre, full of realistic AI generated laments,
and lots of melancholic moaning and groaning behind locked doors.
This allows for complex textures and exquisite microtonal harmonies,
the perfect bed for my haunted lyrics, focused on the waste of our lives.
But alas, my two best demos
"Throwing Up at Martha's Cocktail" and the amazing
"I Shouldn't Have Eaten That Salad"
were utterly rejected. 
As I left the label building, angry and broke,
it suddenly dawned on me that I no longer have a place to stay.
I couldn't pay my rent… 
I would now gladly eat some cheap ultra processed food, 
if only I could pay for it.
Well… Who cares, anyway? 
I'll just try to sleep, perchance to dream, laying in the freezing cold.
This is going to be a long, long  night coming. 
I suspect not too long before I'm gone…

Last Human Musician

Stefan Kraft added some beautiful orchestral sounds to Debra's piano piece. Here I used the exactly same vocals as in the previous version with just the piano.

Reverence JFC (based on Debra Buesking / Stefan Kraft instrumental)

A really wonderful short piece from Gérald Olivieri. I just wrote down and sang a few simple words, and the result warms my heart. I guess I'm getting old and sentimental...

*** DOUCEMENT ***

S'il te plaît, 
reste encore un moment pour garder la tendresse.
Doucement, doucement…
Faut surtout pas bouger, faut rester embrassés.
Viens arrêter le temps.
Raconte-moi tes vingt ans, et nos rêves éveillés,
la maison, nos enfants, nos victoires éblouissantes, 
nos défaites partagées...
Vieillissons doucement.
Vieillissons doucement.
Ne pars pas. Ne pars pas…
Reste encore un moment…

Doucement (Based on Gérald Olivieri's "A Simple Melody")

*** A Foundational Song ***

We can make our dreams reality 
inasmuch as we make reality our dream. 
Let's first find truth, then build on it. 
Whatever we build on the  rock of truth will  stay. 
Whatever  we build  on the sand of  lies will crumble.
That's simple enough. 
And yet there is more to it.

I remember grandma, she used to  tell me:
"Don't you lean your  head out of the window
so you won't fall down to the street and die, 
as many other children died. 
Remember: Your head is heavier,
so much heavier than your body!"

I could tell this was a clear exaggeration.
But I'm glad I never challenged the wisdom
of those loving lies, intended to keep me alive.
There's no need to rush our happy way to heaven
proudly waving the standard of truth
while falling down to the merciless ground.
Words will always be approximations.

But love and kindness will cast out sorrows, 
will bring forth dreams, astounding  science, 
speeches and poems quoted by angels
throughout eternity. 
Remember:  Love and kindness is the only road to eternity.

Foundational Song

Bruce Klepper's beautiful piece "Chiaroscur" inspired me a few ideas about art that I wrote in French. I sang them over Bruce's instrumental, improvising some melodies and vocal harmonies, and here is the result. 

*** L'ART POUR L'ART ***

L'art pour l'art, ou l'art pour l'argent?
Car il faut bien vivre, il faut bien survivre.
C'est bien évident...
Parfois c'est bien clair.
Parfois ça dépend…
Pour atteindre les rêves il faut rester sur sa faim,
et jeuner souvent, et prier longtemps.  
On prie quand on cherche la réponse dans l'âme,
la beauté dans le geste, le génie dans le vent.
L'obsession qui nous prend de puiser le néant,
de parfaire une esquisse, de créer tâtonnant,
c'est ça l'art pour l'art
qui coule dans le sang.

L' Art Pour L' Art (based on Bruce Klepper Chiaroscur instrumental)

I read many years ago that some individuals with psychomotor epilepsy could get strong feelings of certainty or truth during seizures, sometimes described as mystical or religious experiences. It was reported that they could be accompanied by feelings of clarity, heightened awareness, and a sense of unity with the world. Tatiana brought to my attention that Dostoievsky went through that kind of experiences and used them in his novel The Idiot. Here I tried to sing the misfortunes of someone going through those altered states of consciousness while eating in a restaurant. 

*** Epilepsia Psicomotora ***

Senti um relâmpago a estoirar no meu cérebro,
e as vagas de infinitos oceanos ergueram-se alterosas,
e desfizeram-se em lágrimas nos meus olhos deslumbrados.
E no clarão perfeito, que logo se extinguiu,
eu vi a razão, o antes, o depois, o círculo eterno.
Por isso agora eu sei, tão certo quanto eu vivo,
que a ele nada se compara, para ele tudo converge,
e nele tudo se resume e se explica:
O bitoque especial da cantina dos trabalhadores do comércio.

I felt a lightning bolt crack in my brain,
and the waves of infinite oceans rose up gigantic,
and broke as tears in my dazzled eyes.
And in the perfect gleam, which soon died away,
I saw the reason, the before, the after, the eternal circle.
So now I know, as sure as I live,
that nothing compares to it, everything converges to it,
and in it everything is summarized and explained:
The special steak from the shopkeepers' canteen.

Epilepsia Psicomotora

Dedicated to so many man and women of courage, trying to make this world a better place.

JUST SAY NO

I can't live without me,
without the hard decisions,
the crucial moments
defining who I am.

There are so many crossroads,
so many fights inside me
that take me over.
So now I take a stand.
We all need to take a stand.

I say no, I say no.
I´ll keep my promises.
I say no, I say no.
Beyond convenient lies,
I say no, I say no.
Facing corruption
I must say no, say no.
At gunpoint shoutings
I still say no, say no.
Against oppression bars
I say no, I say no.

Will you remember
what I stood for?
I said no! 
Because of honour
let us try to be good
and fight for decency.

I can't live without me,
without the hard decisions,
the crucial values
defining what is me,
defining where we stand.

Just Say No

*** Liquid Roads ***

Watch the ships that slit the oceans
leaving behind white foam.
Those liquid roads will soon be gone
as the foam turns back to sea.

And so is life.
For a while I'll make a difference
a sillage that shows the way
for my sons to follow me.

May I help them in the storms,
break the waves of violent seas.
They will learn and take my place
when I'm no more than debris. 

(based on Classical Glass instrumental piece)

Liquid Roads

There's a time for silence, and there's a time we really should talk...

Teu silêncio é uma nau com todos os mastros quebrados.
O teu sorriso flutua entre os homens de vigia,
exemplo paradigmático de eficaz ortodontia.
Teu semblante eletrostático é uma escada para as nuvens,
irritante enciclopédia de problemas insolúveis.
Eu até senti paixão ao ler o enunciado:
"Dado um muro, determine o que está do outro lado."
Fiz as contas, pressupondo seres tu excelente pessoa.
Mas o muro inexpressivo aborrece, e até magoa.
E quanto mais eu persisto, esforçando a mente cansada,
mais me invade uma suspeita de a resposta, ao fim, ser nada.
E nada é o que diz o mar ao homem que nele se afoga,
enquanto lhe nega o dom de um colete ou uma piroga. 
Bem-aventurado o homem a quem mulher sem mistérios
exibe o que tem na alma, com beijos ou vitupérios.

Your silence is a ship with all its masts broken.
Your smile floats among the men on watch,
a paradigmatic example of effective orthodontics.
Your electrostatic countenance is a ladder to the clouds,
an irritating encyclopedia of insoluble problems.
I even felt passion when I read the problem statement:
"Given a wall, determine what's on the other side."
I did the math, assuming you were an excellent person.
But the inexpressive wall annoys, even hurts.
And the more I persist, straining my weary mind,
the more I am seized by a suspicion that the answer, in the end, will be nothing.
And nothing* is what the sea says to the man drowning in it,
while denying him the gift of a lifejacket or a canoe.
Blessed is the man to whom a woman without mysteries
displays what she has in her soul, with kisses or insults.

* In Portuguese "nada" means both "nothing" and "swim"

Teu Silêncio

Working in my farm is a constant source of inspiration...

*** LUCKY THING ***

Look! Praying mantises!
Praying mantises don't have religion.
Like most of the Universe, 
these amazing creatures don't display compassion.
Just an insatiable appetite.
They hastily devour their preys while they're still alive 
and struggling to get free.
This mindless cruelty is somewhat at odds with my tender christian feelings.
The only things I gladly chew in my mouth, 
although I know they're still alive,
are fruits and salads.
It's a lucky thing they are unable to scream.

Lucky Thing

I enjoy making music over religious texts. Here goes another one from the New Testament.

*** 1 Coríntios 10:13 ***

Não veio sobre vós tentação, senão humana; mas, fiel é Deus, que vos não deixará tentar acima do que podeis, antes, com a tentação, dará também o escape, para que a possais suportar.

1 Coríntios 10:13

Old stuff, early two thousands.

*** Ianamar ***

É melhor não fazer nada, que poupamos energia
nesta vida condenada a aumentar a entropia.
Ao telefone com o Roberto, e deitada no divã,
eu vivo em conflito aberto com a minha querida mamã.
Ela quer tudo arrumado, mas é melhor que desista.
Eu não vou ser sujeitada à exploração capitalista.
Meu quarto de adolescente é um hino à revolução,
com cuecas fedorentas espalhadas pelo chão.
A mamã está chateada. E eu constato uma ironia:
Enquanto este mundo aquece, nossa relação já esfria.
Mas não é o que parece. Nunca quis que fosse assim,
e hoje eu peço-te desculpa por tu não gostares de mim.

Translator gets a little lost, specially in the last sentence, so here goes my attempt:

It's better to do nothing, so we can save energy
in this life constrained to increase entropy.
On the phone with Roberto, and lying on the couch,
I live in open conflict with my dear mom.
She wants everything tidy, but she would better give up.
I will not be subjected to capitalist exploitation.
My teenage bedroom is a hymn to revolution,
with smelly panties scattered across the floor.
Mom is upset. And I realize the irony:
While this world heats up, our relationship is already cooling down.
But it's not what it seems. I never wanted it to be this way,
and today I ask your forgiveness for you not liking me.

Ianamar

When crossing the Tagus, going to Lisbon or coming back home, I can watch lots of jellyfish slowly swimming in the waters. Makes you think how easily they can be destroyed by the boats propellers...


As medusas no Tejo não entendem o seu próprio fim.
Não fogem dos barcos que por vezes as desfazem no caminho.
Navegam nadando docemente nas águas do rio
nos turvos acasos do destino.

Vou contando as que vejo,
sempre que vejo mais uma, mais uma, mais uma
e penso no tão pouco que sabem deste mundo infinito.

E nós que nascemos
cerca de um por segundo nas águas incertas do estar, 
que sabemos dos barcos que nos vão triturar?

The jellyfish in the Tagus don't understand their own end.
They don't run from the boats that sometimes destroy them along the way.
They sail, swimming gently in the river's waters
in the murky twists and turns of fate.

I count the ones I see,
every time I see one more, one more, one more
and think about how little they know of this infinite world.

And we, who are born
about one every second into the uncertain waters of being,
what do we know of the boats that will crush us?

Transtejo 2025

I took this from a very old cassete audio tape, and added some stuff. Sorry for the imperfections and small distortions I could not get rid off. The initial poem is from my late father. Amazing prophetic vision, since he wrote it in the seventies.

*** O Futuro Já Começou ***
Que olhos sinistros me espiam?
Que serei, face ao que sou,
no futuro que anunciam
que já é, já começou?
A  dita terceira vaga
ou a quinta geração
serão paraíso ou praga,
liberdade ou opressão?
Entre o brilho dos visores
e os botões dos teclados
quais serão as nossas dores
os anseios, os cuidados?
Ninguém sabe. Mas um bando
de iluminados - será? -
na sombra está preparando
esse futuro que é já.

(acrescentei estas linhas:)
E quais serão as nossas dores futuras
nossos anseios e futuros cuidados
presos nas redes de paixões remotas
de corações virtualizados
neste futuro que é já...

O Futuro Já Começou (Remix 2025)

I was today (3 Nov 2025) listening to music of friends in SC. The intriguing title of this instrumental brought some ideas to my mind, namely the odd situation of the Colorado river. Rusty was kind enough to allow me to try them. Still somewhat crude. I'll improve the mix as time permits.

*** RIVER MUSIC ***

By definition,
introverted rivers are the rivers that don't make it to the sea.
Victims of abuse and climate change,
they thirst along the way
and perish in the dry river beds.
What a strange vision…
They have no mouth. They don't complain. 
They just fade away in the arid landscapes.
But maybe someday we'll have to face
the revenge of the oceans.

River Music JFC (over Rusty Davis instrumental)

The hospital was just ten minutes away, but she was in such a rush to be born that they didn't make it in time. But all went well, and she's fine. 

*** Speedy Julie ***

(Maddy did you know?)

Who cares if you knew?
Ready or not, 
I'm coming out now.
Forget the clock.
All those predictions based on contractions
are theories of men.
They'll never be mothers,
they don't understand!

It's so fun that daddy
is driving like crazy, 
without respect for speed limits
or lights at the crossroads.
Relax!
I don't need the comforts
of hospital wards or beds.
Enjoy the ride!
It's my turn on Earth!

Dear Speedy Julia,
you're such a bliss,
a most clever statement
on top of a kiss.
As you can see, there's love all around.
A beautiful life to be found.

Speedy Julie

This is a remixed track from the Isaiah project. With time, I'll address some imperfections. The text comes directly from Isaiah chapter 29, verses 13 and 14.

Porque o Senhor disse: Pois que este povo se aproxima de mim, e com a sua boca e com os seus lábios me honra, porém o seu coração se afasta para longe de mim, e o seu temor para comigo consiste só em mandamentos de homens, em que foi instruído. Portanto, eis que continuarei a fazer uma obra maravilhosa no meio deste povo, uma obra maravilhosa e um assombro, porque a sabedoria dos seus sábios perecerá, e o entendimento dos seus prudentes se esconderá.

Isaias 29:13-14

COMPLICADAMENTE

Maria, para quê fazer simples,
se o posso fazer complicadamente?
Tu já me conheces, tu sabes o quanto eu aprecio
nunca seres simplesmente.

Tudo o que faço e digo, o faço e digo complicadamente.
Sou inimigo, sempre fui inimigo do simplesmente.
Que o simplesmente complica-me com os nervos,
baralha-me as ideias.
Sabe-me ao primarismo desses servos
que broncamente arrastam as cadeias.
São estas as principais razões porque ajo e penso complicadamente,
e que, por paradoxo, são a chave
de um outro e bem mais simples simplesmente:
Maria. Simplesmente Maria...

Not easy to capture the ambiguities of the portuguese lyrics, but here goes a try:
COMPLICATED WAY
Mary, why should I do things in a simple way, if I can do them in a complicated way?
You know me, you know how much I appreciate that you don't simply exist.

Everything I do and say, I do and say it in a complicated manner.
I'm wary, I've always been wary of the "simply",
because the "simply" gets on my nerves, confuses my ideas.
It tastes to me like the rudimentary nature of those servants that drag their chains in a clumsy way.
These are the main reasons I think and act in a complicated manner.
And this, paradoxically, is the key for another and much simpler "simply":
Mary. Simply Mary.

Complicadamente

Recorded in the nineties, slightly remixed.

*** Dias de Pressa ***

Porquê tantos dias a correr sem destino,
e tantas directas num lunar frenesim,
tantos sacerdotes dum ritmo assassino,
tantas energias a chegarem ao fim?

Porquê tantos prazos que já ontem expiraram,
e milhões de horários que se desencontraram,
a justiça cega duma porta fechada
para a multidão só um minuto atrasada?

Porquê tudo a correr, porquê tanta pressa,
se, depois do infinito, o infinito recomeça?

Porquê tantas bocas com estilhaços de vidro,
e tantas corridas que nos levam ao nada,
todas essas urnas de metal retorcido,
todas essas poças de sangue na estrada?

As horas são índios que me querem ver morto.
Fujo no galope de um cavalo já louco.
E nem conto as flechas que me pesam no corpo.
Para sarar as feridas o meu tempo é tão pouco...

Porquê tudo a correr, porquê tanta pressa,
se, depois do infinito, o infinito recomeça?

Dias De Pressa

The man in the center of the photograph is the grandfather of my father's mother. Celebrating  some milestone of his military career in the Austro-Hungarian army.

Desde quando é que os homens não choram?
Desde quando é que o sonhos não matam de amor?
Desde sempre que os dias namoram
as ruas do inferno calcadas de dor.
É difícil falar do que sinto.
Nunca fui mui bonito, nunca fui muito esperto.
Eu preciso de fé para saber,
e de ainda mais fé para escolher o que é certo.
Perguntem a Pôncio Pilatos
de que serve encontrar a verdade infinita,
se a própria verdade de cala
e nos deixa perdidos nos escolhos da vida,
com silêncios pesados na sala,
com remorsos silentes de lutas perdidas,
com ciúmes das horas felizes
que nos abandonaram no palco dos dias.
Não me digam que os homens não choram,
não me digam que os homens não quebram de dor.
Perguntem a César caído.
Perguntem a Brutus se é bom ser traidor.
Preciso entender o que sinto.
Nunca fui mui bonito, nunca fui muito esperto,
mas preciso fazer o que é certo.
Quanto ao resto, não sei.
Só sei mesmo que dói.

Os Homens Nao Choram

I created this song a long time ago. My son Filipe made a mix that was placed in Spotify. Here goes my mix.

Já não há mais caravelas,
porque os heróis do passado
voltaram do fim do mundo,
enterraram o horizonte.
Já não há mais caravelas,
mas o sonho é que não para.
Vai vencendo as tempestades
na distância imaginária.
Sentados à secretária
para aqui vamos navegando,
cá nos vamos afogando,
mas a sede não nos larga.

Será que ainda há fim do mundo?
Será que ainda há horizonte?
Já não há mais caravelas,
mas a vida é que não para.
Vai vencendo as tempestades
da espiral inflacionária.
Nesta confusão diária
para aqui vamos navegando,
cá nos vamos afogando,
mas a sede não nos larga.

Nossos pais naufragaram
para verem o mundo até à última gota de mar.
E eu também quero ir...

Google translate gets a little lost, so here it goes:

There are no more caravels,
because the heroes of the past
returned from the end of the world,
buried the horizon.
There are no more caravels,
but our dreaming never stops.
It overcomes the storms
in the imaginary distance.
Sitting at the desk
here we keep sailing,
here we keep drowning,
but the thirst won't leave us.

Is there still an end to the known world?
Is there still an horizon?
There are no more caravels,
but life keeps going on.
It  keeps overcoming the storms
of the inflationary spiral.
In this daily mess
here we keep sailing,
here we keep drowning,
but this thirst won't leave us.

Our fathers shipwrecked
to see the world down to the last drop of sea.
And I also want to go...

Ja Nao Há  Mais Caravelas (Mix JFC)

A beautiful poem from my late father. I put it in music in the late seventies. This is a version recorded in the early nineties.

*** POEMA AO INFINITO ***

A escrita ainda ninguém a inventara.
Uma primeva e rústica linguagem
auxiliava os homens na viagem,
aos poucos dilatando a mente ignara.

Caminhavam em bandos, nus, hirsutos,
desenterrando larvas e raízes,
ou conseguindo, em dias mais felizes,
um antílope, uma ave, ou alguns frutos.

Mas uma noite um deles solta um grito
ante a beleza luminar do céu.
Seu coração vibrou. E ali nasceu
o primeiro poema ao infinito.

-------------------------------------
*** POEM TO INFINITY ***

No one had invented writing yet.
A primitive and rustic language
helped the men on the journey,
little by little dilating the ignorant mind.

They walked in groups, naked, hirsute,
digging up larvae and roots,
or managing, on happier days,
an antelope, a bird, or some fruit.

But one night one of them lets out a scream
before the luminous beauty of the sky.
His heart fluttered. And there was born
the first poem to infinity.

Poema Ao Infinito

In a region in the South of Mozambique, kanimambo is a word expressing deep gratitude. A Portuguese singer, João Maria Tudela, made a song about it in the early sixties of the last century. I never forgot it, and here is my tribute to him.

Kanimambo

Sinto-me doente, e não sei com quê,
e sinto um vazio na alma cansada.
Se calhar é fome, ou coisa estragada,
ou apenas a angústia de entender porquê.

Hoje foi um dia de pés nos patins.
Tanta correria, para atingir que fins?
Neste estranho mundo, de estranhas notícias,
soltam-se os ladrões, prendem-se os polícias.

Qualquer coisa em mim já não bate certo
já não bate certo
porque amei demais.
Qualquer coisa em mim já perdeu o tempo,
bate a contratempo
porque amei demais.
Mas gostei de ti, e não me arrependo.
Vamos aprendendo com as mágoas.

Kanimambo 2

Violin played by Steven Lehnhof.

PARAÍSO PERDIDO
Não me vai servir de muito ter nascido em Portugal:
somos todos as cobaias de uma experiência global.
Louvamos o crescimento, as empresas de sucesso,
os triunfos do momento a que chamamos progresso.
Transparece nessas histórias o optimismo dos catraios,
o canto de aves simplórias poisadas nos pára-raios.
Quando batermos no muro, iremos ver com horror
que buscámos o futuro num espelho retrovisor.
E, no dia do desaire, o optimista ainda dirá:
"Não se assustem, que esta noite decerto o Sol brilhará!"
Não me vai servir de muito haver camas no hospital:
Somos todos as cobaias de uma experiência mortal.
Exaustos, no movimento a que chamamos progresso,
sentimos no desalento a saudade de um regresso.
Mas não há nada no regresso.
Não há nada nesse tempo sem angústia ou sofrimento,
na monótona existência sem fracasso e sem sucesso
duma estéril inocência.

PARADISE LOST
It won't help me much to be born in Portugal: We are all guinea pigs in a global experiment. 
We praise economic growth and successful business, the triumphs of the moment that we call progress. 
The optimism of little children transpires in all these praises, like the singing of naive birds perched on lightning rods. 
The day we shall hit the wall, we will discover with horror that we have driven towards the future while looking at a rear view mirror. 
Still, in the middle of disaster, the optimist will keep saying: Don't be scared, tonight the sun will surely shine. 
It won't help me much to have beds available in the hospitals: We are all guinea pigs in a deadly experiment.
Lost in this frenziness we call progress, we feel in our dismay the longing for a return.
But there's nothing in that return. 
There is nothing in that time without anguish or suffering, 
in that monotonous existence, with no failure or success, 
of a sterile innocence.

Paraíso Perdido

Hello, welcome to my page.

I've been making music since 1972. At the time, with Pedro Castro, we created the alternative rock band Petrus Castrus. 

The music I'm placing here is mostly from the home recordings of my ongoing projects and ideas. I created a few playlists (Inéditos) according to language:
Portuguese: https://soundcloud.com/jfcpetruscastrus/sets/ineditos
English: https://soundcloud.com/jfcpetruscastrus/sets/ineditos-en 
Spanish: https://soundcloud.com/jfcpetruscastrus/sets/ineditos-sp
French: https://soundcloud.com/jfcpetruscastrus/sets/ineditos-fr
Italian: https://soundcloud.com/jfcpetruscastrus/sets/ineditos-it

I also placed the concept album "Três Jardins" in a playlist. There are two long tracks (Mediterrâneo and Isaías) for full concept albums, and corresponding playlists that gather some of their individual tracks. A playlist called Synergies gathers the collaboration projects with other musicians in the fantastic SoundCloud community

Petrus Castrus edited records can be found on Spotify and Soundcloud. See the Facebook Petrus Castrus page for more details, including comments about the recordings uploaded here. 

We are both amateur musicians, i.e. music lovers. As for me, I'm just an electrical engineer with a master in AI that really loves creating music and use it to share ideas. That is why all tracks include lyrics or texts. I sing for people who still can think.

By the way I'm not interested in third-party offers to boost the number of plays. I like it as it is, and I've always declined such offers. Thanks anyway. 

I don't repost much, just some tracks that I find outstanding and with very few plays, so I can help them to get better known. I believe that repost parsimony also makes life easier for those who follow me.

Enjoy!

José F Castro - JFC (Petrus Castrus)

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