No Bem Falá [English translation]

They sang of the land

My land, they sang

They sang of the motherland

Cape Verde

My brother, sit down

Let’s talk a little bit

I’m tired of being told

That my land is small and poor

Since everything’s relative

Wealth can be the mother of hardship

Since everything’s relative

Wealth can be the mother of poverty

Imagine in times gone by

Walking down Avenue Marginal,

arms round each other’s waists

Walking side by side we could see distinguished writers

Like Baltasar Lopes and Aurélio Gonçalves

Meeting Cabral and Eugénio Tavares

Coming out of the water, an ordinary man

Talking to Manuel Lopes

They talked about my land

They told of my land

They wrote about my land

Cape Verde

One Saturday afternoon

At a birthday party at Manuel de Novas’s place

Bana and Cesaria were the first to arrive

Nacia Gomi came together with Luis Morais

Ildo Lobo, Chico Serra and Morgadinho entered laughing

“Mister, they’re Creoles”

At the gate with his guitar

Orlando Pantera was singing

And that isn’t being small

Or poor

They sang about the land

My land, they sang

They sang about the land

Cape Verde