Agora Nunca É Tarde

Each one of us is born
With an artist inside
A poet, a sculptor, an adventurer
A scientist, a painter, an archaeologist
A stylist, an astronaut, a singer
A sailor

And the dream and the distance, and the time and the longing
Gave us life, love, problems, lies, and truth
And we find ourselves discovering that now
Maybe now, it's a bit late

And in the old and secret memories of the girl
Always lives that dream of being
A dancer, an actress, a model, a princess, very rich, who knows
But the years ran by in amazement
And life was unfair in any way
For the indelible flame that still burns
And the children, the children are beautiful in your chest
But now, for certain things
Now it's late

And in the old papers that we tore
There are always a few that we still keep
They are the plans to conquer the North Pole
That we made one day at seven years old in an afternoon
And that were lost for thirty years
And now, maybe, damn luck!

It's not that by confusion, chance, or forgetfulness
Someone has already discovered the North Pole
And now, ready now, ready now, now it's late

There are always, always in the drawers, secret writers
Scientists and doctors
Drawings and projects, builders made by boys
Of everything we dreamed of doing when it was our turn
Scientists in search of Pluto, archaeologists in Egypt
Travelers always without destination
Successful footballers at Inter Milan

But the course of life was treacherous
And the course of life was cowardly
And the cycle of time was completed, and now ready
Now, now it's late, now it's late

Job, house, very dear children
Some dreaming a bit with friends
Sometimes going out, having a few drinks to forget or to remember
And still making a certain fuss
Maybe to hide or to muffle
As it's already too much and mercilessly late

Ah but no, no, it can't be like this
It's never too late to renew, it's never too late to dream
It's never too late

Tomorrow we all leave for Istanbul
Vladivostok, Alaska, Oslo, Dakar
We go to the jungle, I go to Timor to embrace those people
And to the shop windows of Amsterdam
Because after all, I'm not different either
And arriving in Tokyo, buddy
Arriving in Tokyo, it's dinner time, huh
We still have to go back through Bombay
Passing through Macau and Calcutta
Because I find Portugal everywhere
And even running away, I never leave myself

And if that sailor, heartthrob, adventurer, is no longer there
Let's at least meet now until the end
In what we do, in the difference of what we are and say
And asking, creating rebellions
Confirming what we believe
And what we are still capable of dreaming

And if what they give us every day
Is not something to be proud of or dazzle us
That at least we never give up thinking
With the right to irony, to dream, to be different

And it may be a smart way to never
Never be too late to live
Never be too late to understand
Never be too late to demand
And never be too late to wake up

On the keyboard: David Coelho!

I have here a poem that I wrote in a book
Called: Of women and the world
Quite ambitious, because making a book to talk
About women and the world is precisely impossible because
No one knows anything about either
But well, and in that book already, imagine, maybe about ten years ago
At that time, we were talking about the European constitution
The new European constitution, Europe, I don't know what
And I wrote this poem with a
With an enormous relevance nowadays, I suppose