Chico Buarque (right) at the 1968 Festival International de Canção. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
“We want to have our own voice” – Chico Buarque, “Roda Vida,” 1967
In 1967, songwriter Chico Buarque composed the score for Roda Viva, a musical. Roda Viva, which translates as the spinning wheel, depicted the life of a rock star consumed by fame. Buarque’s song Roda Viva, a recounting of the cyclical nature of life and the powerlessness of individuals to resist the rotations, was also considered to be a veiled protest song against the dictatorship.
Chico was born in 1944 to the the academic Sérgio Buarque de Hollanda. Their family lived in several locations throughout his childhood, though mostly in Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, and Italy. Like his father, he wrote and studied literature when he was young. He was influenced by the bossa nova compositions of Tom Jobim and João Gilberto. He rose to fame early in the 1960s.
Lyrics:
Tem dias que a gente se sente
Como quem partiu ou morreu
A gente estancou de repente
Ou foi o mundo então que cresceu
A gente quer ter voz ativa
No nosso destino mandar
Mas eis que chega a roda viva
E carrega o destino pra lá
Roda mundo, roda-gigante
Roda moinho, roda pião
O tempo rodou num instante
Nas voltas do meu coração
A gente vai contra a corrente
Até não poder resistir
Na volta do barco é que sente
O quanto deixou de cumprir
Faz tempo que a gente cultiva
A mais linda roseira que há
Mas eis que chega a roda viva
E carrega a roseira pra lá
Roda mundo (etc.)
A roda da saia, a mulata
Não quer mais rodar, não senhor
Não posso fazer serenata
A roda de samba acabou
A gente toma a iniciativa
Viola na rua, a cantar
Mas eis que chega a roda viva
E carrega a viola pra lá
Roda mundo (etc.)
O samba, a viola, a roseira
Um dia a fogueira queimou
Foi tudo ilusão passageira
Que a brisa primeira levou
No peito a saudade cativa
Faz força pro tempo parar
Mas eis que chega a roda viva
E carrega a saudade pra lá
Roda mundo (etc.)
There are days that we feel
Just as someone that has left or died
Maybe, we have stopped in time
Or either the world is the one who has evolved
We want to make our voices heard
and be the owners of our own destiny
But there comes the wheel of life
and takes our destiny far away
The world turns, big wheel,
The windmill turns, the trompo turns
Time has twirled in a flash
Among the turnarounds of my heart
We go ahead against the tide
until we can no longer resist
It’s only at the ship’s homecoming that we notice
how much we had left undone
For so long we have grown
the most beautiful rose that exists
But there comes the wheel of life
and takes the rose far away
The world turns, big wheel
The windmill turns, the trompo turns
Time has twirled in a flash
Among the turnarounds of my heart
Her long hemline skirt,
the mulata doesn’t want to swirl it anymore
I don’t play serenades anymore*
The circle/party of samba is over
We take the initiative,
putting our violas out in the streets to sing
But there comes the wheel of life
and takes the violas far away
The world turns, big wheel
The windmill turns, the trompo turns
Time twirled in a instant
Among the turnarounds of my heart
The samba, the violas, the rose
which one day, the fire has burned
All were only brief illusions,
which the early breeze has carried away
In our hearts, the nostalgia grows
It tries hard to stop time
But there comes the wheel of life
and takes the nostalgia far away
The world turns, big wheel
The windmill turns, the trompo turns
Time twirled in a instant
Among the turnarounds of my heart
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