Fado Tropical (feat. Ruy Guerra)

Oh, muse of my fado
Oh, my gentle mother
I leave you dismayed
On the first April

But don't be so ungrateful
Don't forget who loved you
And in your dense forest
If you lost and found yourself

Ah, this land will still fulfill its ideal
It will still become a huge Portugal!

You know, deep down I'm a sentimentalist
We all inherit Portuguese blood
A good dose of lyricism (apart from syphilis, of course)
Even when my hands are busy torturing
Choke, crush, my heart closes its eyes
And sincerely cries

With maidenhair in the caatinga
Rosemary in the sugarcane field
Liqueurs in the moringa
A tropical wine

And the beautiful mulatta
With Alentejo lace
Whose bravado
I snatch a kiss

Ah, this land will still fulfill its ideal
It will still become a huge Portugal!

My heart has a serene way
And my hands hit me hard and fast
In such a way that, after
Mismatched, I contest myself

If I bring my hands away from my chest
There is a distance between intention and gesture
And if my heart is narrow in my hands
The sudden impression of incest haunts me

When I find myself in the heat of the fight
I display the sharp handle on the bow
But my chest unbuttons
And if the sentence is announced gross
More quickly the blind hand executes
Because otherwise the heart forgives

Guitars and accordions
Jasmines, coconut trees, fountains
Sardines, cassava
On a smooth tile

And the Amazon River
That runs behind the mountains
And in a mess
Flows into the Tagus

Ah, this land will still fulfill its ideal
It will still become a colonial empire!

Ah, this land will still fulfill its ideal
It will still become a colonial empire!

Ah, this land will still fulfill its ideal
It will still become a colonial empire!