A Casa da Mariquinhas

On a quirky street
Is the house of Mariquinhas
In the living room, a guitar
Windows with wooden planks

She lives with many friends
The one I'm talking about
And there's no greater gift
Than the life of girls
She's crazy for the songs
Like the cicada in the field
Singing fado with the guitar
So moved she even cries
The happy house where she lives
Is on a quirky street

To get noticed
She wears strange things
Lots of lace, lots of ribbons
Scarves of varied colors
Sought after, desired
Proud like the queens
She laughs at the many, poor things
Who rudely judge her
For seeing it full of people
The house of Mariquinhas

It looks simple
But it's poorly furnished
In the end, it's worth nothing
The everything of her house
On the ledge of each window
On a column, a vase
Covers of chintz with borders
Pictures of questionable taste
Instead of having a piano
In the living room, a guitar

To keep her meager belongings
She bought a strong safe
And since the gas ran out
She lights it with oil
Cleans the furniture with oil
Of sweet almond, and petty
The neighbors pass by
To see what's going on
But she, just to be spiteful
Has windows with wooden planks