Trocando Em Miúdos
Chico Buarque

I’ll leave you the miraculous ribbon of Bonfim
It was no help to me
But I will keep Pixinguinha’s record, OK?
The rest is yours
Just to clarify, you can keep
The remains of all they call a home
The shadows of everything we once were
The marks of love on our sheets
Our best memories
That hope that everything would work out
You can forget
That wedding ring, you can pawn
Or melt down
But I have to say that I won’t give you
The great pleasure of seeing me cry
Nor will I charge you for your wreckage
My chest, so lacerated

Furthermore
Do accept the help of your future love
With the rent
Give me back the Neruda that you took from me
And never read
I slam the gate without making a show of it
I take my identity card with me
A farewell drink, a deep yearning
And the slight impression that I’m already late

LAVANDERAS  DE  RIO  CHICO – Zamba

Letra y música: Gustavo “Cuchi” Leguizamón

Desde lejos se las ve, sentadas en la arena lavando ropa en el río.
Pueblo duro en ademán, con la carga en la cabeza vienen cantando y se van.
Bajo el puente hay un rumor, y un humo de poleo perfuma el aire y el cielo.
La pava bulle feliz y a la espera de los mates interrumpen su trajín.

Lavandera, quiero cantarte con mi guitarra,
y entregar mi voz a tu limpio corazón.
Déjame llevar tu ropa del Río Chico hasta la zamba
donde vivimos los dos.

De las Nieves a Cuyaya la fila de mujeres que van al río se agranda.
Los changos dele gritar mientras los perros torean van cruzando el pedregal.

Cuando cierra la oración, con sus guaguas dormidas entre los brazos, regresan.
La tarde lenta se va por los senderos jujeños rumbo hacia la oscuridad.

WASHERWOMEN AT SMALL RIVER – Zamba

Music & Lyrics: Gustavo “Cuchi” Leguizamón

You can see them from afar, sitting on the sand washing clothes in the river.
Tough people in gesture, with the load on their heads they come singing and they leave.
There’s a murmur under the bridge, and the smoke of pennyroyal perfumes the air and the sky.
The kettle happily boils and in the wait for the maté they stop their to-ing and fro-ing.

Washerwoman, I want to sing to you with my guitar, and deliver my voice to your clear heart.
Let me take your clothes from the Small River to the Zamba where the two of us live.

From Las Nieves to Cuyaya the line of women going to the river grows longer.
The boys yelling while the dogs dodge about, they all cross the stony ground.
When the praying ceases, with their babies asleep in their arms, they return.
The afternoon goes away slowly by the pathways of Jujuy headed for the dusk.

corregido por Francesca, gracias

Lavanderas sample por Chilischi

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