Anabela
roupa do marinheiro
And the sailor's clothes
are not washed in the river
are washed in the open sea
the ship's umbrella
And then  the ship's parasol
And ÃÂ the steam's parasol
Go away, sailor
That I am not your love
I am not I am your love
I am not your love
I am not like a fig tree
That bears fruit without flower