Espanha,
Tua forma me fascina.
Península do vermelho gritante,
Das touradas e tomatinas.
És terra fértil,
Cravada de cerejeiras
Que perfumam o ar Ibérico
E fabricam o doce cherry.
Jesulin de Ubrique,
Ou pequeno Jesus,
Lenda do ringue sanguinário,
Prepara-se para mais uma luta.
Os adornos e vestimentas
Caracterizam o ritual
Para dar vida ao espetáculo.
“El matador”,
Coberto de inúmeros pequeninos espelhos
E cores vibrantes
Enfrenta o animal sagrado
Símbolo de uma cultura,
Um duelo dramático
Entre o ser racional e irracional.
Uma epopéia
Que cala a massa
Paralisando sua retina.
Uma arte que faz parte
Da alma espanhola.
E para nosotros,
Um ato de atrocidade.
Espanha,
Das eternas películas
De Almodóvar e Penélope.
Do flamenco
E de seu belo povo
Com suas faces exóticas
De formas geométricas
E olhos escuros.
As tavernas,
Bares e restaurantes
Traduzem a simplicidade e magnitude
Da paella e dos mais finos vinhos e olivas.
Os gitanos.
À esses, cuidado devemos ter.
Molestam-te a cada passo.
E em qualquer lugar estão.
Querida Espanha,
Sonho em um dia conhecer-te,
Penetrar sua raiz
E decifrar teus mínimos detalhes,
Língua e música.
Sevilla,
Barcelona,
Madrid,
Toledo,
Ubrique
Y Jerez de La Frontera.
Muito de tua história
Pelos árabes foi escrita,
E o ouro latino Americano
Abasteceu teu cofre
Manchando tuas mãos de sangue indígena.
La Plaza Mayor,
Palco principal
Para o espetáculo das Inquisições,
Levou embora milhares de vida
Que a Santa Igreja Católica um dia há de contar.
A Guerra Civil dolorosa,
Impressa numa prima bela obra de Picasso,
Marcou-te a história.
Desde a ditadura de Franco
De censura afiada e cruel,
Até os dias de hoje,
És para mim
Labareda em chamas,
Eres el fuego,
La passion,
El rojo y amarillo
Eres un raio de sol
Qué brota a mi corazón.
__________________________________________
SPAIN
Spain
Your form fascinates me.
Peninsula of the glaring red
Of bullfighting and tomatines.
You are fertile,
Studded with "cerezas"
That perfumes the Iberian air.
And produces the sweet cherry.
Jesulin de Ubrique,
Or little jesus,
The bloody legend of the ring,
Prepares for another fight.
The ornaments and clothing
Characterize the ritual
Giving life to the show.
"El Matador"
Covered with numerous tiny mirrors
And vibrant colors,
Faces the sacred animal:
Symbol of a culture,
A dramatic showdown
Between rational and irrational.
An epic
That shut the mass
Paralyzing your retina.
An art that is part
Of the Spanish soul.
And for us,
An act of atrocity.
Spain
From the movies
Of Almodovar and Penélope.
From Flamenco
And its beautiful people
With their exotic faces
Of geometric shapes
And dark eyes.
Taverns,
Bars and restaurants
Reflect the simplicity and magnitude
Of the "paella" and of the finest wines and olives.
The gypsies,
As such, care we should have.
Molest you at every step.
And in every corner can be found.
Dear Spain,
I dream of one day meeting you,
Penetrate your root
And decipher your minimum details,
Language and music.
Sevilla
Barcelona
Madrid,
Toledo,
Ubrique
Y Jerez de La Frontera.
Much of your story
Was written by Arabs,
And the Latin American gold
Fueled its coffer
Staining your hand of native indian blood.
La Plaza Mayor,
The main stage
For the spectacle of the Inquisitions,
Killed thousands of lives
That the Holy Catholic Church one day will count.
The painful Civil War
Printed on a beautiful work of Picasso,
Has marked its story.
Since Franco's dictatorship
Of sharped and cruel censorship,
Until today,
You are to me
Flame burning,
Fire,
Passion,
The red and yellow,
A sunshine
That springs deep in my heart.
__________________________________________
SPAIN
Spain
Your form fascinates me.
Peninsula of the glaring red
Of bullfighting and tomatines.
You are fertile,
Studded with "cerezas"
That perfumes the Iberian air.
And produces the sweet cherry.
Jesulin de Ubrique,
Or little jesus,
The bloody legend of the ring,
Prepares for another fight.
The ornaments and clothing
Characterize the ritual
Giving life to the show.
"El Matador"
Covered with numerous tiny mirrors
And vibrant colors,
Faces the sacred animal:
Symbol of a culture,
A dramatic showdown
Between rational and irrational.
An epic
That shut the mass
Paralyzing your retina.
An art that is part
Of the Spanish soul.
And for us,
An act of atrocity.
Spain
From the movies
Of Almodovar and Penélope.
From Flamenco
And its beautiful people
With their exotic faces
Of geometric shapes
And dark eyes.
Taverns,
Bars and restaurants
Reflect the simplicity and magnitude
Of the "paella" and of the finest wines and olives.
The gypsies,
As such, care we should have.
Molest you at every step.
And in every corner can be found.
Dear Spain,
I dream of one day meeting you,
Penetrate your root
And decipher your minimum details,
Language and music.
Sevilla
Barcelona
Madrid,
Toledo,
Ubrique
Y Jerez de La Frontera.
Much of your story
Was written by Arabs,
And the Latin American gold
Fueled its coffer
Staining your hand of native indian blood.
La Plaza Mayor,
The main stage
For the spectacle of the Inquisitions,
Killed thousands of lives
That the Holy Catholic Church one day will count.
The painful Civil War
Printed on a beautiful work of Picasso,
Has marked its story.
Since Franco's dictatorship
Of sharped and cruel censorship,
Until today,
You are to me
Flame burning,
Fire,
Passion,
The red and yellow,
A sunshine
That springs deep in my heart.
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