Mi Pueblito Perdido

O how

Ruefully I pine

For mi pueblito perdido,

What I wouldn’t give,

To be young again,

And happy as I was back then.

Maria, full of peace, 

Do you remember

Francis Albert softly keening

O Amor Em Paz,

And other songs by Jobim,

Happy as you were back then?

O for

That wide-eyed

Impression of yours,

Paquita (la de Murcia),

Of your beloved Mary Lyn,

Happy as you were back then.

O how

Ruefully I pine

For mi pueblito perdido,

What I wouldn’t give,

To be young again,

And happy as I was back then.

Memories Flow Back Too

I go back, though

Sometimes it’s filled with pain,

I go back, yet

Nothing will be the same,

Precious places

I first knew,

When life and youth

And love were new,

I flow back, and

Memories flow back too.

How Sad True Sadness

There was a sadness I revered,

But never possessed,

Because there was youth

And opportunity to spare,

But as life ebbs,

And opportunities recede,

I know that sadness for real,

And how sad true sadness feels.

A Multitude of Woes

Yes, there was a time

I was obsessed by melancholy,

I saw deep sadness,

The quality that so tormented

My former favoured idols,

Poets, painters,

Musicians, actors,

Creators of every kind,

As glamorous and romantic,

But it’s not,

It’s not remotely romantic,

When you yourself are adrift,

And weighed down

By a multitude of woes.

And If My Soul Is Crying

It’s happening again,

Such unbearable pain,

And if my soul is crying

As my heart is breaking, then that’s fine…

I’ve let so many people down,

Lost so many beautiful opportunities,

I feel so failed and forlorn,

But is that really such a tragedy?

Perhaps, rather,

It’s a positive thing,

Shouldn’t a true artist be suffering?

At least I’m feeling something…

It’s happening again,

Such unbearable pain,

And if my soul is crying

As my heart is breaking, then that’s fine…