THE NAME OF MY ANGEL
(BY PATRÍCIA EVANS *TRANSLATION - LAURENCE BERNSTEIN)
(BY PATRÍCIA EVANS *TRANSLATION - LAURENCE BERNSTEIN)
.
I will ask Him
about the name of my angel
This son of a bitch who proudly declares
he is my guard and my guide
while I suffer as a dog
with the stones that pelt me
and no fucking sense of direction
I will ask Him
about the name of this angel
who I think must be always drunk
or having an affair with a demon slut
for I have walked in circles
my lover has betrayed me
my principles have failed
and the more I call for him
the less he responds to me
He seems to be deaf to my pleadings
It must be the drugs -
he certainly buys on the street-
the reason for his disregard
These streets and filthy alleys
from the end of the world
where he has led me
This angel who says he guards me
who is my guiding star
doesn't want any real work or job
for I am always hearing the rolling of dice
and the stttttrrrrech of cards
I will ask Him
about the name of my angel
This son of a bitch who proudly declares
he is my guard and my guide
while I suffer as a dog
with the stones that pelt me
and no fucking sense of direction
I will ask Him
about the name of this angel
who I think must be always drunk
or having an affair with a demon slut
for I have walked in circles
my lover has betrayed me
my principles have failed
and the more I call for him
the less he responds to me
He seems to be deaf to my pleadings
It must be the drugs -
he certainly buys on the street-
the reason for his disregard
These streets and filthy alleys
from the end of the world
where he has led me
This angel who says he guards me
who is my guiding star
doesn't want any real work or job
for I am always hearing the rolling of dice
and the stttttrrrrech of cards
!!!!!
I need to know his name
to put it in the frog's mouth.
.
O NOME DO MEU ANJO (Patrícia Evans)
.
Eu vou perguntar a Ele
.
Eu vou perguntar a Ele
sobre o nome do meu anjo,
este filho da puta, que julga
orgulhosamente guardar-me e guiar-me
e entretanto eu sofro como uma cadela,
com as pedradas que me atingem
e essa merda de falta de senso de direção.
Eu vou perguntar a Ele
sobre o nome deste anjo,
que eu acho deve estar sempre bêbado
ou de cacho com alguma diaba vadia,
que tenho andado em círculos,
meus amores me traído,
meus princípíos falidos
e quanto mais o chamo
menos ouço uma resposta;
parece surdo aos meus apelos,
acho que são as drogas,
que deve conseguir nas esquinas,
a razão de seu desapego;
as esquinas desses becos imundos,
esses finais de mundo,
em que anda me levado.
Este este anjo que me guarda,
que é a minha estrela guia,
não deve querer trabalho,
porque ouço o rolar dos dadinhos
e o trrrrrrréxi do baralho.
Preciso do nome dele,
Preciso do nome dele,
pra colocar na boca do sapo!
.
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