My life was an illuminated stage
I lived dressed in gold
Clown of lost illusions
Full of false bells of joy
I walked around singing my fantasy
Among feverish applause from hearts in
My shed there on Morro do Salgueiro
It had the joyful singing of a nursery
You were the sound that went out
And today, when the sun sets, the light
Fires my shed, I miss it
The turtledove woman who flew
Our common clothes hanging
On the rope, like waving flags
They seemed like a strange festival
Festival of our colorful rags
Showing that we are poorly dressed on the hills
It's always a holiday national
The door of the shack was without a latch
But the moon, piercing our zinc
Scattered our floor with stars
You stepped on the stars absent-mindedly
br/>Without knowing that the happiness of this life
is the cabrocha, the moonlight and the guitar

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