Naquela Mesa

At that table he always sat
And always told me, what is living better
He told stories
That today in memory I keep and know by heart

At that table he gathered people
And happily told what he did in the morning
And in his eyes there was so much brightness
And more than his son, I became his fan

I didn't know it hurt so much
A table in a corner, a room and a garden
If I knew how much life hurts
This pain so hurtful, wouldn't hurt like this

Now there's a table in the room
And today no one talks about his mandolin
At that table he's missing
And his longing, it hurts in me
At that table he's missing
And his longing hurts in me

At that table he always sat
And always told me, what is living better
At that table he told stories
And today in memory I keep and know by heart

At that table he gathered people
And happily told what he did in the morning
And in his eyes there was so much brightness
That more than his son, I became his fan

I didn't know it hurt so much
A table in a corner, a house, a garden
If I knew how much life hurts
This pain so hurtful, wouldn't hurt like this

Now there's a table in the room
And today no one talks about his mandolin
At that table he's missing
And his longing, it hurts in me
At that table he's missing
And his longing hurts in me