Velha Chica

In the old days, old Chica
sold glue and ginger
and in the afternoon she would wash the clothes
of the important boss;
and us kids from school
we asked Grandma Chica
what was the reason for that poverty,
for our suffering.
Hey boy, don't talk politics,
don't talk politics, don't talk politics.

But old Chica wrapped in thoughts,
she knew, but didn't say the reason for that suffering.
Hey boy, don't talk politics,
don't talk politics, don't talk politics.

And time passed and old Chica, only got older.
She only made a shack with a zinc roof, with a zinc roof.
Hey boy, don't talk politics, don't talk politics.

But who sees now
the face of that lady, of that lady,
only sees the wrinkles of suffering, of suffering, of suffering!
And now she only says:
"- Hey boy, when I die, I want to see Angola live in peace!
Hey boy, when I die, I want to see Angola and the World in peace!"