Brasil i Argentina El Dorado

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-I'm a man whose world

-has always been a river

-I know the voice of every pool

-like a hymn

-Bells chiming through the fields

-and the woods

-And then the inconstant tune

-of the waves

-But give me the greatest water

-in the world

-From the beginning of the world

-until the world ends

-Not the pleasant tinkling of wells

-But the shout of waters

-that are really waters

-It falls and falls all day

-But escapes from its death leap

-It runs and runs all night

-But remains there in gentleness

-And those who bend

-and are soaked in its dew

-They will not go home alone.

-THE BIG WATER

-In the beginning was the water.

-Run here people

-from your tidy gardens and offices

-from all over the world

-To where the swallows

-skate on rainbows

-and the endless wa

-

-bathes the world in dew

-Run,

-on your shaky heels

-in stockinged feet

-Drop your weapons

-your scythe, your computer, your pen

-your civilisation's gadget

-Cover your camera lenses

-in case the dew kisses them

-and blinds them with it

-Flock in your taxi cabs,

-your helicopters and rowing boats

-and you shall s

-

-rainbow's beginning

-Run,

-from your shameless resolutions

-on bombing countries

-Usurping a president here,

-a general there

-Run,

-from your policies

-and the emptiness of your prayers

-Gather around you

-cardinals and soulless broadcasters

-Charge like the Gadarene swine

-and you shall see

-where the rainbow fal

-And the gold materialises

-from the water and light

-Followed by the thousand swallows

-pure before the sun

-It has been here from the beginning,

-a boiling cauldron

-Stand in its centre

-and step mute and unharmed

-back into the lig

-Run,

-and cry:

-as the stag bleats

-for the rivers

-# Where is your father, little boy?

-# Where is your father,

-little hare?

-# My father is hunting

-in the forest of the world

-# Hiding and running,

-dusty all over

-# What did your father see,

-little boy?

-# What did your father see,

-little hare?

-# He saw Jesus ready to jump

-# And love telling Jesus not to

-# Will he come home, little boy?

-# Will he come home, little hare?

-# He will come home,

-when he's seen the world

-# Shining and summery

-or dusty all over

-# And if he doesn't come,

-little boy?

-# And if he doesn't come,

-little hare?

-# I'll put on his boots

-of Spanish leather

-# And the buckles will ring

-as I walk on ahead #

-"The wretched has yet to learn

-That the magic of names and distance

-Is to 'see the world'"

-(Welsh poet, T H Parry-Williams)

-A young man from Arfon

-seventy years ago and more

-crossed the At

-

-seeking a fool's paradise.

-The names in his head

-were like South Sea stars

-guiding him b

-

-from place to place

-The same names

-whisper their promises still

-on the unfamiliar ether

-

-m the world's other side

-Full of sunshine

-and convenient schemes

-of beaches and for

-

-and happy natives

-Until another lad from Arfon

-once again got lost

-in the world's qua

-

-in the very pits

-And Santa Cruz, Cusco and Ascuncion,

-Rio, Buenos Aires and Callao

-Filled the disused windows

-of his brain.

-This is a song about a girl I saw

-on the quay in Rio de Janeiro.

-The tugs plucked the ship

-through the deep

-And the flags were all a-flutter

-Of the hundreds there,

-I saw only one

-The girl on the quay in Rio.

-She waved to them all,

-not knowing any

-In a mixture of laughter and tears

-She sat, she stood, she tossed

-and turned

-The girl on the quay in Rio.

-She stroked a white rat

-On her shoulder, whose eyes

-Darted everywhere at once, like the

-eyes of the girl on the quay in Rio

-She might have been, once

-To someone, a Lily or Leah

-By now there is no-one,

-just everyone

-For the girl on the quay in Rio.

-And yet,

-amongst that irreverent mob

-There was not one who maligned her

-Or mocked her hollow 'adios'

-The girl on the quay in Rio.

-Who can record the madness

-of her farewell

-Or the fear I felt as I pitied

-The simpleness of the girl

-with the rat

-The girl on the quay in Rio.

-COPACABANA CHRIST

-He's too far away

-to cast his shadow

-on the naked thighs and breasts

-

-orship the sun

-"Senorita, I couldn't settle down

-I came here

-to the big mountain top

-Between heaven and the beaches

-so I could look down

-at Copacabana..."

-He's too high up

-for anyone to notice

-the compassion that shines

-

-Janiny and Angelina.

-"Senorita, I can smell the rain

-rising from the heat that falls

-from t

-

-'favela'

-And the prophets' ranch

-like the marijuana smoke

-sweet and ca

-

-

-He's too prominent

-for anyone to mistake him

-for a celluloid

-

-from the South Sea

-"Senorita, you can have a picture,

-I won't refuse

-There are worse pictures

-than crucifixion..."

-He's as primitive

-as a cross and nails

-And the bartering girls

-between jewels and seaweed.

-

-About a million people -

-or 17% of Rio's population...

-..live in the 'favelas' -

-shantytowns.

-There are 566 favelas around Rio...

-..and planning authorities

-now accept they'll never clear them.

-The current policy is to try

-and improve living standards.

-Favelas have a bad reputation.

-Some are dangerous.

-In 1993, 21 innocent favelados were

-shot by police in a botched vendetta

-In recent floods, 30 residents died

-in a landslide.

-Behind their image lies a close-knit

-community with strong family values.

-They are determined to improve

-their living conditions...

-..and they run their own shops

-and schools.

-The average favelado

-earns 150 a month...

-..and is an important part

-of the Rio workforce.

-CHILD IN A PICTURE

-Child in a picture,

-still as the scar across his cheek

-In his pain,

-his face is suffering

-The little hands rake the dirt

-scraping for the strength to survive

-Child in a picture,

-so alone in the crowd

-But no anger clouds his eyes,

-though hurt by worry

-His hope hides the scars

-of his sore skin and brittle bones

-Child in a picture,

-where once was sun

-today is a bare prairie

-A starving land

-barren under the tyranny

-of our interest

-And our luxuries

-push their ugly dust

-into its silence

-Child in a picture,

-today for him is just one minute

-One second's brittle existence

-to pause between worries

-One cry against the heat

-one moment at the edge of history

-Child in a picture,

-filling our emptiness

-with bare fists

-His pain is our dependency,

-in his cell we too are trapped

-Our freedom will come when we say:

-Child in a picture - happiness.

-# Strange hotel, pretty eyes

-# Distant voice in poet's heart

-# Through the telephone's

-noisy smoke

-# Another city's down the road

-# Death's shadow, strict metres

-# Stormy petrel walks the beach

-# And on the heavy wires, the pain

-# Of the disappeared comes again

-# I felt her warm arounds me

-# Her shy touch gave me a thrill

-# And I know who sent her wandering

-# From Wales to the edge of Brazil

-# Grassy knoll and rounded hill

-# You know none of this, I know

-# But between the night

-and the starry shower

-# The language came

-like a scruffy farmer

-# I felt her warm arounds me

-# Her shy touch gave me a thrill

-# And I know who sent her wandering

-# From Wales to the edge of Brazil

-# I felt her warm arounds me

-# Her shy touch gave me a thrill

-# And I know who sent her wandering

-# From Wales to the edge of Brazil #

-A protest by the socialist movement.

-They're afraid of being filmed.

-You know we had a war here

-over the Malvinas...

-..called Falklands by the English.

-President Menem is now in London,

-apologising for the war.

-We are not against the war.

-We say the Falklands/Malvinas

-are Argentinian.

-And now Menem's gone

-to kiss Blair's arse.

-We're against that. We don't want

-him to be a President any more.

-We have a terrible economic problem

-here in Argentina.

-There are many people unemployed.

-There are 4,000,000 people

-unemployed in this country.

-Whatever you see in Buenos Aires

-is just a superficial glow.

-If you go 30km away from here,

-you will find a lot of people...

-..who have nothing to eat,

-children who have nothing to eat.

-The white outline represents the

-30,000 people who 'disappeared'...

-..on government orders.

-Some dates are chillingly recent.

-Augustin Ramirez (5.6.88)

-Every Sunday he'd be there

-in the San Tel

-Offering improvised sketches

-for twenty pesos

-To the tourists who traipsed by

-with some other land's freedom

-heavy o

-

-

-And who went with careful dollars

-to look for rare books

-on Libertad Avenu

-Miguel Bru (13.8.93)

-Pushing through the crowds

-to curse the Boca Juniors

-on Sunday a

-His shirt bluer than the sky

-and his voice flying

-like wildfire through the

-His brother came home without him

-on a Sunday full of sunshine

-and victory

-On the Plaza de Mayo

-the kids are learning the art.

-Maxa Maidana (12.7.97)

-His clothes smelling of La Plata

-and his hair full of sea salt

-Every night Rosata scolded him

-for coming home smelling

-She knew he wasn't playing cards

-those nights

-when she couldn't sleep

-She slept fine now

-with the scent of southern herbs

-on her bedclothes.

-Sergio Duran (6.8.92)

-His friends would tease him

-because he chose to dance the tango

-instead of roc

-Every Friday night

-he wore his costume with pride

-and entertained the

-

-in the Viego Buzon

-Then danced home in the moonlight

-through the shadowy streets:

-he's dancing

-

-.

-Damian Esquivel (29.1.97)

-He looked like Dylan Thomas

-waiting at the tables

-And every menu was a reading,

-an oral presentation

-He liked the afternoon shift best:

-that's when the buskers and poets

-came for

-To plot the next raid

-on the tourists' pockets:

-he was at home in their c

-Names in paint

-around a memorial

-are all that remain

-And where the lines of life

-wove multicoloured patterns

-on the c

-

-A white outline and date

-on the Plaza de Mayo pavement

-Is as final as the shadow

-that remains

-after the bomb.

-Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires

-Welcome to Portmorgueion village,

-so far from the troubles

-of the living

-Our houses are of the highest

-quality and they really are quiet.

-The architecture is tasteful,

-nostalgic but never cheap

-The streets are safe and clean,

-and quiet like country lanes.

-There are handy little spots

-for the public to watch

-the centuries at

-There's no piping busker in the

-park of whistling keeper either

-If you're looking for someone,

-lost in all the commotion

-There will be someone

-with a corpse-candle

-to show you the way for nothing

-You can take a look

-through the windows of the famous

-when they're all away

-Nobody in the parlour

-with his wife on his knee,

-no bottle of wine on the

-But don't ask the girl there

-to dance, she won't

-Although she too was once

-light-headed and quick-footed

-on a summer ev

-Your daughter is here, your father

-or mother, so why on earth go away?

-Welcome to Portmorgueion village,

-so far from the troubles

-of the living.

-TRAVELLING TO PATAGONIA

-Translations by

-Twm Morys

-and

-Geraint Lovgreen

-Subtitles by

-CYMEN