São Paulo Ballad 2
Ice-cold is the Coke in the street-coffee-bar
Strong Brazilian coffee, strong Brazilian light.
Strong sounds, strong smells, strong language, strong cars,
And weak, weary people, who wait for the night.
And you see how they live, or at least how they try
The three-piece-suit businessmen, beggars in rags,
In an endless parade they are passing you by
And they carry their lot like they once carried flags.
Traffic, and traffic, and traffic again
People, and people, and people between.
Daredevil motoboys race through the rain,
Out of some nowhere to places unseen.
The sky can be low here, clouds touch my hair.
Laughter from street-bars and hot-dog stands.
Through trickling haze breaks the setting sun's glare,
To vanish like a coin in the beggar's hands.
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