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São Paulo Ballad 3

São Paulo Ballad 3

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São Paulo Ballad 3

The light spring of France, and the desert's heat,
The rain of the mountains, and foul sewer-smell.
A levy of humans, where all differences meet,
White cliffs of money near the abyss of hell.
Streets full of potholes, and crystal arcades,
Skyscrapers, palm-trees, and all kinds of shops.
From the first ray of sunlight till the evening-light fades,
A double-speed-heartbeat that never stops.

You to can go to Turkey, to England, or Spain
without leaving São Paulo, in some minutes you're there
Like it is all of Brazil, it can be all of Japan,
Its own land, its own twisted hemisphere.
You can walk through a garden, round the corner you bend,
To find yourself in a junkyard that poisons the air.
You pass just round the next one, and suddenly stand
In front of a palace, a shrine, or a fair.

continued here:

São Paulo Ballad 4
São Paulo Ballad 4
Wolfgang Degenhardt

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