Vou Dar de Beber À Dor

It was last Sunday that I passed
To the house where Mariquinhas lived
But everything is so changed
That I didn't see anywhere
The windows with little boards

From the ground floor to the roof
I saw nothing, nothing, nothing
That could remind me of Mariquinhas
And there's a nailed and bluish glass
Where there used to be the little boards

I entered and where the living room was
There's a skinny guy at the desk
But I didn't see bedspreads with trim
Nor a viola, nor a guitar
Nor furtive glances from the neighbors

Time has left its mark
On the soul of that house
Where sometimes we nibbled on sardines
When on nights of guitar and revelry
Mariquinhas was cheerful

The windows so cheerful that were adorned
With polka-dotted chintz curtains
Lost all their charm
Because now it's a glass pane
With tin trimmings

And those who pass by inside
Today it's to go to the pawnshop
To hand over a few things to the usurer
For all the grace is lost
From Mariquinhas' house

For them to have done to the house what they did
It would have been better to send it to the souls
For it to be a pawnshop
What was once a breeding ground of loves
Is an idea that doesn't fit in my mind

Memories of warmth
And longing. The taste
That I will try to forget
With some cherry liqueur
For giving pain a drink is the best
As Mariquinhas used to say