Canção ao lado [English translation]

Forgive me, learned men, aesthetes,

Poetic spirits, gentle souls,

For the falsity of my genius and

My words

What is the scholarship that I sing,

What is life, wonder,

What is beauty, grace,

But I just aspire to the art

Of planting potatoes.

Forgive me for every little thing,

but there is nobody here who sings fado.

If you came to hear Deolinda,

You came to the wrong place.

We are in a house next door.

We all went to a house next door to us.

I know well that there are writerly trowels,

Literary plasterers and hard-working poets

And poets who are true masons

Of letters,

And they sing in genuine art, the humble fisherman

The modest seller of fish

And so the singer should devote herself to fishing.

Forgive me for every little thing,

But there is nobody here who sings fado.

If you came to hear Deolinda,

You came to the wrong place.

We are in a house next door.

We all went to a house next door to us.

Why not do what I like,

I sing with disgust the fact that

I am here

And somewhere I know someone unsuitable

Takes my place.

No one is happy with what he has

And there is always someone coming and they

Are as good as us;

But that someone is usually not

Who they should be.

Forgive me for every little thing,

but there is nobody here who sings fado.

If you came to hear Deolinda,

You came to the wrong place.

We are in a house next door.

We all went to a house next door to us.

And it is the change I propose;

It is not a fearful step

In dark utopias,

It is as simple as changing

a radio station...

I propose that they change with you and

Put their lives right.