Minha Velha

Five-thirty in the morning
The sun hasn't risen yet, but the old lady gets up
Hoping to find a love she's already lost
And the life she never had

Six-thirty in the morning
She goes to grab the dirty clothes to scrub in an old tub
Her hands, already calloused
Remind her of past pains and mornings from other times

Seven-thirty in the morning
She’s out on the street to put bread on the table
Wakes me up gently, tells me to go wash up
To have my breakfast
And then the kid wakes up and starts to cry
I call for my old lady to come help me out
To put on a shirt that’s hard to get into
I call for my old lady to come help me out
And she comes lovingly, eases the pain in my soul
Just asks me to stay calm, 'cause she’s tired too
I step out in clean clothes to play with my friends
While she dozed off by the backyard door

And time kept passing
Her hands begging to see if she'd stop
She always ignored it, kept on working
Without losing her joy

Friday at seven o'clock
Chatting with the neighbor, remembering her old stories
Fondly recalling a not-so-distant past
Times of being a girl and a young woman

Today she wakes up at eight-thirty
Cold in the distant land, my old lady is tired
Remembers the old days, the warmth of five-thirty
The time she used to get up

And then I get close and give her a little affection
N’gana Zambi, my old lady, how much she’s changed
Her eyes look far away and start to cry
I hug my old lady so she won’t cry alone
Then I tell old stories that she used to share
Dozing in her arms, I remember my past