O bêbado e a equilibrista

The afternoon fell like an overpass
And a drunk dressed in mourning
Reminded me of Carlitos
The Moon, just like the owner of a brothel
Begged to each cold star
A glow for rent

And clouds
There in the blotted sky
Sucked tortured spots
What a mess!
The drunk with the bowler hat
Made a thousand irreverences
For the night of Brazil

My Brazil that dreams
Of the return of the brother of Henfil
With a bunch of people that left
In the tail of a rocket
Cries our gentle motherland
Cry Marias and Clarices
On the soil of Brazil

But I know that such a stinging pain
Does not have to be pointless
The hope dances
On a tight rope with an umbrella
And in each step of that rope
It may get hurt

Bad luck
The balancing hope
Knows that the show of every artist
Must go on