Quebranto

The samba still lives in the schools
And the yards of the pros
Samba doesn’t respond to the calls
Of those who don’t want it
Samba, strong and fearless, black
Has been enchanted
Breakdown when it grips a priest
Makes the rope fray
Samba never gives up
It doesn’t tire
It insists, even when there’s no hope
Samba has always belonged to the dawn
The hustler who doesn’t sleep
Knows nothing at all