Rio de Janeiro

Rio came to me in the morning,
Riding the crest of a wave,
Running through the white sand,
Scantily clad, skin toasted in golden hues,
Wanting to play, laughing and teasing
With a brilliant smile.
And then Rio began to fade as memories do
Blurring Pão de Açúcar and Cristo Redentor

Rio came to me in the afternoon,
Walking slowly, cigarette in hand,
Beach empty, the sun would go soon.
Head toward the ground, looking away,
Talking of the city as Cariocas do,
Speaking of the day’s events.
Then Rio, became the faintest whisper,
The dialogue dissipated by beach winds.

Rio came to me in the night.
From the terrace, I awaited the arrival,
The sound of steps, the silent moving shadow,
In the darkness, Rio stood still
Skin moist, smelling of the sea,
Eyes burning like Macumba fires on the beach.
Then Rio, to a batucada of high waves breaking,
Sea and shore sambando, vanished into the calçada