Cleta Dominga

Outside her cabin,
almost at dawn,
a little black girl
had the whim to see,
to see shining in the sky
the tropical moon,
that mother-of-pearl moon
round maraca
that comes out of the sea.

The little black girl Cleta Dominga
curucutí, curucutá
wants to see the moon rise,
curucutí, curucutá
but the sky was cloudy.
curucutí, curucutá
It torments me to see you crying,
don't cry black girl, it will come out soon.
It torments me to see you tearful.
Hey lovely, don't cry anymore!

And like in the mouth of a wolf
the darkness closed in,
without a single light in the clouds,
not even a hint.
But the little black girl waited,
she did nothing but wait,
for that silver moon
that comes trembling
wet from the sea.

The little black girl Cleta Dominga
curucutí, curucutá
wants to see the moon rise
curucutí, curucutá
but the sky was cloudy.
curucutí, curucutá
It torments me to see you crying,
don't cry black girl, it will come out soon.
It torments me to see you tearful.
Hey lovely, don't cry anymore!