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  • Cicada - My Mum's Song (From A Play in Brazil) .

    Enviado por

    Marcia
    4 visualizações1 página
    I have translated this song, which is a song my mother, who I love dearly, used to sing at home frequently, for feeling pain and sorrow to maxima levels with all I suffer during the period and also with all my poor mum suffers, on top of what we had already endured in life, on our own or together, up to end of 2001, even though she clearly lived more than me and had way more choices and chances in life, was just much slower in her learning regarding people than I was, what is weird, once I lose life like nobody else has lost and cannot live, cannot exist as a person at the age I am since end of 2001, but she 'apparently has lived', as for human idea of living, her natural life. I have done that recently, in one of those 'incursions' into singing (you know it has become a necessity due to the nature of the atrocities I suffer) of mine. Reckon the recording of my voice singing my own translation of the song is superb, but only if you ever get my beneficiaries to work for me after death, opposing their choice as for when I am alive, you will hear me singing it. I also am curious to know whether this piece, which is apparently part of a play, as my mother had described to me as being, is already translated into English somewhere, so that if you know about this matter I beg you to write to me and tell. I also obviously recalled the song because they literally 'oblige' me to keep on singing, only giving me a break on the torture and others when I 'amuse' them with something, unfortunately, the singing being what stops them better, just like the little monkeys in the old circuses... .

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    Cicada - My mum's song (from a play in Brazil).

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    I have translated this song, which is a song my mother, who I love dearly, used to sing at home frequently, for feeling pain and sorrow to maxima levels with all I suffer during the period and also with all my poor mum suffers, on top of what we had already endured in life, on our own or together, up to end of 2001, even though she clearly lived more than me and had way more choices and chances in life, was just much slower in her learning regarding people than I was, what is weird, once I lose life like nobody else has lost and cannot live, cannot exist as a person at the age I am since end of 2001, but she 'apparently has lived', as for human idea of living, her natural life. I have done that recently, in one of those 'incursions' into singing (you know it has become a necessity due to the nature of the atrocities I suffer) of mine. Reckon the recording of my voice singing my own translation of the song is superb, but only if you ever get my beneficiaries to work for me after death, opposing their choice as for when I am alive, you will hear me singing it. I also am curious to know whether this piece, which is apparently part of a play, as my mother had described to me as being, is already translated into English somewhere, so that if you know about this matter I beg you to write to me and tell. I also obviously recalled the song because they literally 'oblige' me to keep on singing, only giving me a break on the torture and others when I 'amuse' them with something, unfortunately, the singing being what stops them better, just like the little monkeys in the old circuses... .

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    © All Rights Reserved
    Baixe no formato RTF ou leia online no Scribd
    Sinalizar o conteúdo como inadequado
    4 visualizações1 página

    Cicada - My Mum's Song (From A Play in Brazil) .

    Enviado por

    Marcia
    I have translated this song, which is a song my mother, who I love dearly, used to sing at home frequently, for feeling pain and sorrow to maxima levels with all I suffer during the period and also with all my poor mum suffers, on top of what we had already endured in life, on our own or together, up to end of 2001, even though she clearly lived more than me and had way more choices and chances in life, was just much slower in her learning regarding people than I was, what is weird, once I lose life like nobody else has lost and cannot live, cannot exist as a person at the age I am since end of 2001, but she 'apparently has lived', as for human idea of living, her natural life. I have done that recently, in one of those 'incursions' into singing (you know it has become a necessity due to the nature of the atrocities I suffer) of mine. Reckon the recording of my voice singing my own translation of the song is superb, but only if you ever get my beneficiaries to work for me after death, opposing their choice as for when I am alive, you will hear me singing it. I also am curious to know whether this piece, which is apparently part of a play, as my mother had described to me as being, is already translated into English somewhere, so that if you know about this matter I beg you to write to me and tell. I also obviously recalled the song because they literally 'oblige' me to keep on singing, only giving me a break on the torture and others when I 'amuse' them with something, unfortunately, the singing being what stops them better, just like the little monkeys in the old circuses... .

    Direitos autorais:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Baixe no formato RTF ou leia online no Scribd
    Sinalizar o conteúdo como inadequado
    de 1

    O pior é que eu lembro de coisas ainda mais deprimentes.

    Porque eu nunca podia ser a cigarra na peça ä cigarra e a formiga" na escola? Era
    tão legal, ela tinha um violão (sem cordas) e cantava uma música que eu lembro
    até hoje (apesar de nunca ter sido a cigarra): "Eu canto quando estou alegre, e
    quando estou triste também, eu canto quando estou sozinho, quando estou
    pertinho de querer meu bem. Se a noite é de lua bela, com mil estrelas a brilhar,
    debruço na minha janela e começo a cantar, tralalalalá: sou uma cigaRRA RA RA
    alegre e vadIIIA canto no inverno, canto no verão, canto noite e dia".
    PUBLICADA POR LUIZA ÀS 1/31/2003 04:12:00 PM
    http://versaobeta.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.htmlI ==

    I sing when I am happy and also when I am sad


    I sing when on my own
    and when next to whom finds in me SHED
    If the night inspires my soul
    Myriad of stars overwhelming thing
    I lean against my window
    And start to sing
    ring ding ding ding
    I am like the CICADA
    Full of joy and bastard
    Singing during the winter
    Singing during the summer
    Singing day and night hard

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