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Waters of March (Composed by Antonio Carlos Jobim 1972) performed solo by Rick DellaRatta keyboard/vocals at The Nairobi National Museum in Nairobi Kenya.  CLICK! here for the performance recorded on 02/19/2011! 

Also here are some additional Pictures: http://jfp.abc4all.net/galleries/view/163376/?topic=63307  

 - and an article from Africa’s VIBE Magazine: http://vibeweekly.com/newsite/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=691:rick-dellaratta-jazz-for-peace&catid=77:events&Itemid=396

photo credit:  Rick DellaRatta (Seattle, Washington, USA)

Below are the lyrics in both English and Portuguese.  CLICK! on the speaker for the Portuguese version performed by the composer.

This extraordinary info can be shared with persons interested in both Jazz and Humanitarian Relief.  CLICK! here for the performance recorded on 02/19/2011!

To provide feedback after listening to the MP3 of "Waters of March," given the humanitarian causes that will be supported all over the world, please send in your comments to this email address:  abc4allteam @ abc4all (do) net!

Thanks for looking, listening and sending your comments which will be posted!

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Waters of March (Águas de março)

 Antônio Carlos Jobim

(1972)

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 fange 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 sound of a shot 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
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
A hank, a quail, the promise of spring
And the river bank 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 river talks of the waters of March
It's the promise of life 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 river bank talks of the waters of March
It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart