Nunca parto inteiramente

About "Nunca Parto Inteiramente",
By helder moutinho

Farewell is an infinite word, it has no time, and its reality is ephemeral. We can say goodbye and look like it is forever, but then we meet again the next day. We say goodbye to our childhood, our loves, our great friendships, the most important moments of our lives.

But we always come back…. We say goodbye to our loved ones, but we also say that they do not die because they always stay in that place of thought where all the reactions of the human being come together. Those that make us smile and scream with joy, cry and scream with rage or such great pain that it does not let us hold back tears. And then, all that transforms us. In this epicenter that attracts and welcomes all the emotions that we keep. The Heart… who holds us to every moment of our lives…



Nunca parto inteiramente,
Não me dou à despedida
As águas vão simplesmente
Presas à sua nascente
É do seu modo de vida 
Fica sempre qualquer coisa
Qualquer coisa por fazer
Às vezes quase lamento
Mas são coisas que eu invento
Com medo de te perder
Deixei um livro marcado
E um vaso de alecrim
Abri o meu cortinado
Fiz a cama de lavado
Para te lembrares de mim
Nunca parto inteiramente
Vivo de duas vontades:
Uma que vai na corrente,
A outra presa à nascente
Fica para ter saudades.
Letra: João Monge 

atrás dos meus cortinados

ABOUT "atrás dos meus cortinados",
By helder moutinho

We all struggle against a society that creates and transforms us, and so we live each with our own condition. When we have a secret, we are clandestine, but then when we reveal it, we are clandestine as well. The struggle for peace and freedom has no end, we know. In life, nothing never ends… But everything has a beginning!

I like to be free to live a clandestine love. Love always begins in secret, then reveals and reveals itself to infinity, to immortality, but always and always behind my curtains…


Atrás dos meus cortinados
Estamos os dois condenados
Um ao outro a horas-mortas
Se é a deus que isto se deve
Ele lá sabe o que escreve
Direito por linhas tortas

Falam de nós, eu bem sei
Deste amor fora-da-lei
Sem destino nem altar
Somos a rosa colhida
No lado escuro da vida
Que só se dá ao luar


Não te sintas obrigado
A prometer que ao meu lado
Nunca mais te vais embora
Atrás dos meus cortinados
Estamos os dois obrigados
A ser imortais agora.

Letra: João Monge 

fado da herança​

ABOUT "fado da herança",
By helder moutinho

One day my mother told me you were upset with me. That you had vented it and had felt a great sadness in you. This is the way I was treating you, with contempt, without attention, without belief and always answering with two stones in hand. I decided to write you a letter. I thought it was the safest way to make sure nothing was left unsaid. But I never wrote it and it’s been at least thirty years ago. I remember above all saying that contrary to what you might think, my revolt was not against you, but against the frustration with which I felt towards the world at that time. You were my safe port, my good example, and unlike contempt, what I thought was that you were my hero and that sometimes I lost my mind because I was frustrated that I wasn’t as good as you.

One day I felt in your eyes a mix of joy, pride and understanding. But you never said anything to me. We passed ahead… There was nothing more to say. By the way, you weren’t sending me to sit in a chair … That was not our code.

Family conversations were mostly at dinner time, and preferably when we had a satisfied stomach. It was my mother who always tugged matters or who interfered most while you listened quietly to the heart of the matter. Then you would interfere at the end of the conversation as if to give an opinion or final warning. Other times you would finish dinner and go out to Coffee and a Grape Brandy and then, when you would return, sitting on the couch smoking your cigarette, eyes half closed with smoke and looking at the television:

 “Hey Luísa, come here please … That conversation with your son about night school doesn’t smell like that very well. This dude is getting ready to stop studying. Look at what I’m telling you. Then don’t say I didn’t warn you”. And then, looking at me: “I did something similar, I went to study and work at the same time, but that was in the past… Can you really do that?”


 In fact your concern was not my studies. It was the future, a profession, an art or something that made us happy. To us mostly. And there you were once again squinting at the television with a cigarette in your mouth. Always listening and thinking about strategy. But then you dropped the subject and let things go their natural course. You thought we were young and that if anything happened you were here to help and to protect. You had worked and studied to give us all that you did not have.

 However, if everything is correct, the first person to make a mistake will be deleted. I did a comment on what you thought was going to go wrong, but ultimately favored the positive surprise. It fills me with soul. You had the intelligence of not wanting to be more stubborn, never ever use any kind of tyranny. I didn’t know why, but I believed in our goods a lot, even when it seemed bad what would be resolved.

The tips came neither from quotes nor from proverbs. They were exactly tips… sometimes take one there, sometimes take another. Sometimes they came into another context completely misplaced. Like, this has nothing to do with it, but… I shrugged my shoulders and thought it didn’t make much sense either from the context or the situation we were experiencing. But they appeared on and off the subject. Sometimes I didn’t understand them very well, sometimes I didn’t think they made sense, and sometimes I definitely didn’t agree. However, I don’t know why, but they were all here, one by one, kept as little temporary files stored deep inside the hard disk waiting to be used at the right time. 

The years went by and the episodes began to appear … the challenges, the afflictions, the reflections. The small files opened as needed. First the instinct to resolve it as if it were not the first time. After reflection, the understanding and the reason…. You were right after all.

One day within a few days of your departure you came to me – you had a short-sleeved white nightgown and blue training shorts – and you said to me: “Don’t be afraid that I like you very much”… I thought that was the answer to such a letter, and we gave a hug.

Today I am a strong man, worthy and integral. Grateful and ready to the future.

The hard drive where I kept all the little things that came to me I called Saudade (longing) and the little things… your heritage… the largest in the world…


Deste-me o nome e a lua

A lua não tem morada

Alumia qualquer rua

Mas só a mim me foi dada

Não entendo onde tu estás

Nem porque chegaste ao fim

Não entendo onde tu estás

Mas sei que dormes em paz

Descansas dentro de mim



Já nasci com a saudade

Nada mais herdei de ti

Deste-me o nome e a idade

Da lua quando nasci



Não sei se há lugar no céu

À minha espera ao teu lado

Não sei se há lugar no céu

O lugar que deus me deu

Para viver é o Fado.

Letra: João Monge 


About "Matas-me",
By helder moutinho

In any bar, in any street, in any neighborhood of an old city… I entered without having understood very well what was going and where it was going. I got stucked. I could go on and on looking at the rest of the crowd, the things, the details, the laughter, the other looks, but no, it was all little background noises, little distractions, they were part of the scenery and it was all right. But that was it, a vivid backdrop of a black-and-white movie with the main character that was you… in color.

Then all that was left was that sense of being part of the movie, and this time there were two color characters in a fantastic movie … in black and white.

We walked down the street for several hours. We talked about everything that was possible, painfully, about each of us. As if we had known each other so well in another life, we had not seen each other since the day of our death and that we had already passed at least every year of our age. We continued to walk and it was as if our souls wanted one thing and our flesh another. It was as if we were sure that everything would be eternal between us and that our separation would not bring us suffering because it was only geographical.

In any house, on any street, in any neighborhood of an old city… we put the key in the door and got the feeling that this was our home. Our time was our secret… and we shared our desires, our follies, our tenderness, our fear and our foolishness. Once again, as if we had already known each other and had already loved each other so much that love was no longer in question now. This one had been lived and was resolved and it was better that it was. Now we were two madly in love new people discovering our new bodies, our new desires and sensations. And we discover, we discover, we discover, until dawn … When the morning came we moved away from each other as if we were not allowed the light of day. As if night were our perfect dream and day our saddest reality.

In any bar, or in any house on any street, in any neighborhood of an old city… we already knew that love would not happen… we invented our Passion. Once upon a time…





Há que sofrer
Com a tua despedida
Há que chorar
De alegria por te ver
O meu peito tem num canto
Duas rosas em pranto
O destino de uma vida
Que se esgota pra viver
Deixa-me só
Quero ficar só às escuras
Vai-te embora e deixa-me só
A pensar no que vivi
A saudade é o alento
De um coração ao relento
Quando tu não me procuras
Às escuras penso em ti
Se uma gaivota poisar
À beira desta janela
E disser que te viu passar
Mandarei dizer por ela
Que me dói a luz do dia
Sou a noite sem fim
Volto a chorar de alegria 
Quando voltares para mim
Matas-me de amor
Quando vens sem avisar
Matas-me de amor
Quando me tens sem perdão
Morremos um de cada vez
Sem voz nem lucidez
É o sangue a suplicar  
Que te mate de paixão
Letra: João Monge 


About "Estrela Mâe",
By helder moutinho

Once upon a time Luisa…

I fell, tore the skin of the knee and the palm of my right hand…

I don’t even remember how old I was, about three or four years old. I broke down in huge tears as if I had just had a major accident, as if it were a very serious thing. In fact there was a lot of blood mixed with the dirt sand and some herbs in the mix. Like an abstract from Jackson Pollock.

Okay son, it was nothing, it’s gone, everything will be all right, the mother is here, don’t cry, come here, don’t cry, come on: let’s take care of it all and you’ll be fine.

Do you believe that there is also Reiki in Words? What is certain is that as soon as I saw myself in my Mother’s arms and heard her say those words, the pain and trauma began to disappear. Now only the part of cleaning and treating the wound was missing. Then, finally, it turned into a great adventure to tell my Father and my grandparents at the end of the day.


I fell, fractured my head by 6 inches, had a head injury, and was in a coma for a week… I was nine years old. This time I didn’t cry out because I fainted with the fall. I just remember standing on a roof with my brother, watching a bird’s nest, and any man started screaming, I got scared and started running away. I eventually fell off the roof and hit my head on the floor. As soon as I woke up from the coma I called for her and she was there.

Son, I am here. How are you? Do you feel well? It’s the mother, I’m your mother, you’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s ok, don’t cry…

But why is she telling me so many times that she is my Mother? I know she is my mother; It has always been since the day I was born! This, at the very least, is strange. But what has happened?

I was in recovery for about three weeks, and I still remember walking down the street from the front entrance of the hospital to a square full of movement, traffic and commerce, right in the center of town. We took a cab and went home. During the trip she told me what had happened. Today I have a strange vision of this, as if it reminds me of all that was really told me.

I fell, I lost one of my best friends…

The one who taught me that if others can do it, I have to. The one who always proved to me that men don’t measure themselves and only cry when they want and when they need… It was my maternal Grandfather, the only one I knew.

It hurts a lot, son, I know. You don’t even know how much it hurts me either. But this will pass. Don’t be sad, it was better that way.

I fell and fell again and again, and in all of them there was that ever-huge figure, in soul, spirit and courage. Tearing down all borders, always fighting to the end. Sometimes lost, sometimes won. Never gave up, not allowed, probably by God and life. Is it a punishment? A promise? Or a gift God gave you? Apart from me, few have seen it in action, but today we are what we are and we know that we just don’t get up if we don’t want to live … because the problems were only invented to be solved and so, in the end, everything will be fine. And all because, when we fell, once upon a time Luísa…



Queria ser boa pessoa
Aquela que não magoa
Quando a vida não sorri
Pensei como tu te davas
Toda luz que irradiavas
E quis ser igual a ti
Não tenho o dom do perdão
E às vezes sei dizer não
Quando a vida quer morder
Mas aprendi ao teu lado
Que por trás de um triste fado
Há uma força de viver
Já roguei pragas à Lua
Quando a morte se insinua
Quando já tudo perdi
Tu sorris como em criança
Trazes no olhar a esperança
E quis ser igual a ti
Donde vem essa vontade
Esse manto de bondade
Que não encontro em ninguém
Todas as noites procuro
Uma estrela no céu escuro
A luz de uma estrela mãe
Letra: João Monge 



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