Bang bang –
beng, beng.
Yo gostah tokah tokah.
Spinggarda
deus sa saguati sigredu
pra matah kantiga
di omi midurozu
teng foru tamanyu prendeh olotu onsong sa pekadu dretu.
Pekador-pekador,
beng, beng.
(Muleh ngka kartah pekadu.
Isti yo ja ubih na greza
di yo sa padri.)
Mansebu kung mansebu,
machu kontra machu.
Soltah bos sa spada.
Tirah bos sa skudu.
Naki
tudu ta bai pontah
pra bondadi na dianti di morti
pra fesang na basu di tudu otru omi sa sombra.
Limpah bombarda.
Desah kureh piloru, presta, mbes pra mbes, ngua kung otru.
Koitadu – mistih spalah polba
justu na buraku dretu,
teru kung moli chuma sintidu di ngua omi ta pontah prumiru.
Klai moli, machu dretu sa intrada.
Klai bemfetu, eli sa brasu.
Klai tezadu, eli sa perna.
Klai pichadu, bos onsong sa gayola.
Matamata, sibrih bos sa chabi
abrih pra sempri A Famosa.
Bang bang –
come, come.
I like ending up being touched.
The gun
is the secret gift of a god
for killing the songs
of cowardly men
terrified of learning their true crimes.
Sinners all,
come, come.
(Women do not commit sin.
I learned this in church
from my priest.)
Lad against lad,
bruv against bruv.
Loosen your sword.
Throw away your shield.
Here
everyone is on the hunt
for kindness in the face of death
for affection under cover of every other man’s shadow.
Clean the bombardments.
Let the bullets flow, fast, sudden, one by one, one after another.
Careful – you must spill the gunpowder
into exactly the right hole,
as immature and soft as the feelings of a man on the hunt for the first time.
How soft, the entry of a real man.
How beautiful, his arms.
How tight, his legs.
How secured, your own cage.
Officer, use my key
and open, for eternity, A Famosa.