I believe it was Larry Holland, who had lived off and on in Brazil, who had first brought me Caymmi's singing. He was the fisherman's poet of the Northeast of Brazil, and sang in the peculiar, soft-spoken dialect of that area. Fine guitarist, too. I think my accompaniment of this is quite close to his: I know I intended it to be at the time, even to singing the verses in 3/4 and playing the guitar in 4/4. (I didn't know that this was happening at the time, just that it sounded good.) The translation we print here is a rough sketch. I haven't seen the Portuguese in print (Or heard this song pronounced by anyone but myself) for almost thirty years, so there's some definite slippage here.
The ocean ---- When it laps on the
beach ---- it is beautiful.
The ocean, whenever the fisherman goes out,
Doesn't know whether it will keep him
or give him back. How many people have
lost their husbands, their sons, to
the waves of the sea?
The Ocean----
Pedro lived by fishing;
went out in his boat
at six in the evening
and returned when the sun rose.
Everyone liked Pedro,
and most of all
Little Rose the Fair,
the most beautiful
and well-formed
of all the girls
there on the beach.
Pedro went out in his boat (one day)
at six in the evening;
passed the whole night out there
and didn't return when the sun rose.
They found the body of Pedro
thrown up on the beach,
eaten by the fish,
Without boat, without anything
Just thrown up there
On the corner of the beach.
The Ocean --
Poor Rosita De Chica,
Who was once so beautiful,
now appears gone-crazy;
lives at the edge of the beach,
walking, turning,
standing, saying:
He's dead,
he's dead.
And the ocean, when it laps on the beach,
it's beautiful.