Waters of March Open Thread

I identify with lots of song, but Waters of March is probably my favorite, written by Antonio Carlos Jobim in Portuguese and then in English. I own several versions. In the last couple of years I have taken to playing it every day during the month of March. It helps to remember that in Brazil, March signals the end of the summer months and the onset of the rainy season, though I've always thought of it in terms of Spring. It was voted the All-Time Best Brazilian song, but who needs the qualifier.

There are so many great versions of this bossa nova classic, some happy, some sad, like life's river banks. I do like Jane Monheit's version--here it is live:

One of many translations:

Waters of March

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone

A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow

The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find

A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night

A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud

Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night

A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road

A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.

Rosemary Clooney and John Pizzarelli sing a duet that is exquisitely seasoned, and David Byrne and Marisa Monte recorded a version for Red Hot + Rio that sizzles. Cassandra Wilson is joined by a chorus of young voices when she sings it (takes a while to load):

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In Susannah McCorkle's translation, the riverbank doesn't just talk, it "sings." Her version blends both English and Portuguese, and is truly haunting:

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Here are a few other versions, if it moves you:

Antonio Carlos Jobim
Elis Regina, Live
"Pecombo", a scat chorus group from Tokyo

The promise of life, the joy in your heart.

See you at the river...

NOTE: This is a repost of my annual March homage.

TAGS: Music, Waters of March, Jobim, Brazil