Futuros Amantes

Lyrics from “Futuros Amantes” by Chico Buarque (1993)

(After the song in this video Chico comments on Brazilian songs about love and heartbreak, mentioning some of his favorites.)
—
Don’t get flustered, nothing needs to happen right now
Love’s in no hurry, it can wait in silence
Buried deep in a bureau
In the poste-restante
Millennia, millennia up in the air
And who knows maybe then Rio will be some submerged city
The deep sea divers will come to explore your home
Your room, your things, your soul, your garrets
Wise men in vain will try to decode the echo of ancient words
Fragments of letters, poems, lies, portraits
Vestiges of an unknown civilization
Don’t get flustered, nothing needs to happen right now
Loves will always be lovable
Future lovers, perhaps, will love one another
Without realizing it
With the love that one day I left for you

— Interpretation —

In this clip, Chico Buarque explains how he composed this song:

“I was playing around on the guitar and started to compose the melody, and the first thing that came to my mind was ‘submerged city’ – totally isolated from everything else. As I hummed along to what I was playing, it seemed like the song should say that, so then I had to follow that idea and explain the submerged city — create a story around it. Then I came up with the divers, and this love delayed, or put on hold — this idea that love stays around forever, and is something someone can take advantage of much later. It never goes to waste. Time passes, millennia go by, and that love sticks around — even under water — for other people to use it.” (Hence, “Loves will always be lovable.”) “It’s love that was never put to use, right, because it’s love that wasn’t reciprocated. It’s love that was left on its own, unpaired, just kind of floating around waiting for someone to grasp it and put it to good use – to carry out its purpose.”

Lyrics in Portuguese

Não se afobe, não
Que nada é pra já
O amor não tem pressa
Ele pode esperar em silêncio
Num fundo de armário
Na posta-restante
Milênios, milênios no ar

E quem sabe, então
O Rio será
Alguma cidade submersa
Os escafandristas virão
Explorar sua casa
Seu quarto, suas coisas
Sua alma, desvãos

Sábios em vão
Tentarão decifrar
O eco de antigas palavras
Fragmentos de cartas, poemas
Mentiras, retratos
Vestígios de estranha civilização

Não se afobe, não
Que nada é pra já
Amores serão sempre amáveis
Futuros amantes, quiçá
Se amarão sem saber
Com o amor que eu um dia
Deixei pra você