Lisboa Oxalá

Just like this Lisbon, clothes hanging in the window
Just like this Lisbon, purple jacaranda
I know of another Lisbon, in apron and slippers
Oh Lisbon, the fado singer, from Alfama and hopefully

Lisbon, oh Lisbon, from the darkest night
Of streets made of shadows, of nights and alleys
Step on the ground, step on the stone, step on the life that’s tough
Lisbon all alone, with its nooks and crannies

But the face that peeks, from behind the curtain
Is the face of the past turned into love right now
Laughter of the rising tide in a sly mouth
Laughter of the full tide in a kiss that lingers

And in this fado, I leave forgotten here
Lisbon without a destination, that the fado made sing
A city of sailors without needing to sail
A caravel of the night that one day will arrive