On a working trip to Lisbon on a few years ago our host took us on a hair raising drive through the city to a club frequented by Cape Verdians.

It was dark, the club was in a large room in the heart of what seemed to be a a decaying palace.

The band played a song called Sodade. You didn’t need a translation – the music was filled with longing and the sense of exile. I was reminded when I found this, from a collection of untranslatable words. If you’do like to feel what Sodade means, give Cesario Evora a listen.



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