It's the end of all strain, It's the joy in your heart

I really didn't want to clog my blog up with song lyrics, but in this case I think they'd be beneficial, so see below. I woke up this morning and looked outside and something about the sky just screamed out "March"...I really don't think any other month has such a specific aesthetic to it. Overcast and cold...but the birds are singing and there's just something that seems to tell you that all the yuckiness won't last long. And immediately I thought "the promise of spring" and realized I was quoting that Antonio Carlos Jobim song "The Waters of March/Águas de Março". I think Art Garfunkel did one of the more popular English versions of the song, and I think the Basia version is the first one I heard, but I like this one, partly because David Byrne and Marisa Monte are awesome, but mostly because it has both English and Portuguese lyrics. Wikipedia points out that instead of being translations of eachother, the Portuguese one is from a Southern Hemisphere perspective, the start of the Brazillian fall, while the English one is the start of Spring in the north. Totally blew my mind. And one version just seems happier than the other in comparison, you know? I guess which one depends on which season you like better.

A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
É um resto de toco, it's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass, it's life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death, it's a trap it's a gun

É peroba no campo, é um nó na madeira
Cangá, candeia, é Matita Pereira
É madeira de vento, tombo na ribanceira
É um mistério profundo, é um queria ou não queira

É um vento ventando, é o fim da ladeira
É a vida, é o vão, festa da cumeeira
É a chuva chovendo, é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março, é o fim da canseira

The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
Passarinho na mão, pedra de atiradeira
É uma ave no céu, é uma ave no chão
É o regato, é uma fonte, é um pedaço de pão

É o fundo do poço, é o fim do caminho
No rosto o desgosto, é um pouco sozinho
A spear, a spike, a point, a nail
A drip, a drop, the end of the tale

É um peixe, é um gesto, é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manhã, é o tijolo chegando
A mile, o dia, a thrust, a bump
It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's a cold, it's the mumps

É o projeto da casa, é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado, é a lama, é a lama
A drift, ponte, flight, rã, resto, quail
The promise of spring

And the river bank talks (São as águas de março)
Of the waters of march, (Fechando o verão)
It's the promise of life (É promessa de vida,)
It's the joy in your heart (No meu coração)

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

It's a sliver of glass,
It’s a life, it's the sun,
É a noite, é a morte,
é o laço, é o anzol

It’s the plan of the house,
It’s the body in bed,
It’s the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud

É o projeto da casa,
é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado,
é a lama, é a lama

São as águas de março fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida no meu coração

And the riverbanks talk
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.


I mean, I've been making a conscious effort to make sense of a lot of things in my life, which has made me feel a lot...more content, if not happier, lately, but I think the fact that we're out of the dead of winter (if February is the shortest month, why does it seem like the longest?) is helping a ton, too. Though I still don't understand why the fuck winter break is still in the winter, when I'll be returning to Pennsylvania and the snowpocalypse. I guess it makes it all the more special for those running off to Cancun. Part of me wishes I were, say, running off to Havana again...but I don't think I fully appreciated my time at home over winter break so I guess it's a good thing to return to the land of ice and snow (from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow? Somewhere like that seems like a much better setting for a snowpocalypse, no?)