Mariquinhas (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
Those 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 glass stuck and bluish
Where there were the little boards

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

Time has marked its claw
In 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 they used to be
With chintz curtains, dotted
Lost all their charm, because now it's a window
With tin frames in swirls

And inside, those who pass by
Today it's to go to the pawnshops
To deliver to the usurer some things
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 a pawnshop house
What was a nest of love
Is an idea that doesn't fit in my mind

Memories of warmth
And the taste of longing I will try to forget
With some cherry liqueur

For to give to drink to the pain is the best
As Mariquinhas used to say
For to give to drink to the pain is the best
As Mariquinhas used to say