Black are the gypsy horses

When Mariana sings, it’s like some
treasure tower appears
Through the corridors of silk,
she pulls me down with chords
of gold
To the whistle of her heart,
buried nestled close against her skin
I bathe in her rose perfume
and I surrender to her whims

Poet’s tongue and tender eyes,
is where her innocence resides
With the tenderness of wolves,
she shakes her hips and climbs
the wall
Like a snake that’s shed its skin,
a Latin heart so paper thin
And how she hangs it in the library
of her emotional museum

Where black are the gypsy horses
Racing through her veins
To white shores of Salvador again
Childhood in father’s pockets
Afternoons alone at home
Full of sadness, full of joy

While Mariana sleeps,
she greets the blue Bahia sky
It frames her pumpkin glow,
in the horizons of her dreams
Like a cherry in preserve,
deep in the chambers of a church
We watch the rainfall on
London streets
and see the wonder of the stars

Where black are the gypsy horses
Racing through her veins
To white shores of Salvador again
Friends left in foreign waters
Dear San Antonio
Home’s full of sadness, full of joy

Then Mariana weeps,
‘Cause she feels her grandma comb her hair
And in that silhouette of hope,
it reminds her life’s so cruel
and sweet
From the bosom of Brazil,
to the cul de sac of Purcell St
In the rambling of that distant beat,
she will always be that little girl

Where black are the gypsy horses
Racing through her veins
To white shores of Salvador again
Her childhood in mama’s pockets
Afternoons at home alone
Full of sadness, full of joy
Home full of sadness, full of joy