Tasco da Mouraria [English translation]

Night grows

throughout the streets of Lisbon

And all the children like me go to sleep.

Only I remain with a dream that already flies,

In this strange way

I feel things.

I leave the room with little girl steps,

In a silence that respects the most sacred of things,

When the brightness of my eyes in the curtain

Delight while hearing the fado being sung.

"My love, go to sleep, it's late,”

Says my father whenever he comes near me,

In that mix of pride and longing,

Of someone who feels a new

Love in my garden.

And i fall asleep in his guitar arms,

Sweet cradle that reborns in each day.

In that dream of singing the dawn,

Which was crib in a Tasco of Mouraria.

"My love, go to sleep, it's late,”

Says my father whenever he comes near me,

In that mix of pride and longing,

Of someone who feels a new

Love in my garden

Of someone who feels a new

Love in my garden