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  • Marco Rodrigues

    Noite → превод на енглески

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Night

I'm a night-child of the night...
I have wrinkles on my fingers,
Caused by their telling of secrets
In the high sources of love.
 
And I sing because it's necessary
To dawn the pain that compels me
And record, on my skin,
The sources of my pain!
 
 
Oh, my mother of groves,
You who comb the longing and sorrow
With which I saw how humanity
Wept through my very own voice!
 
I gave you a body made out of secrets
In which I risked my own grief,
And where I drank that water
That became entangled in the air...
 
 
Оригинални текстови

Noite

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Marco Rodrigues: Топ 3
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