Latin American composers and their muses

Latin Beat Magazine, March, 1998 by Fran M. Figueroa

Yo no he visto a Linda parece mentira. Tantas esperanzas que en su amor cifré.

No te ha escrito a nadie. No dejó una huella. No se sabe de ella desde que se fue.

Yo no he podido ni podré querer a nadie con tan loco frenesí.

Menos el domingo, todas las tardes salgo a ver el cartero a ver si trajo algo para mí. Oh, Virgen de Altagracia, quizás algún día se acuerde de mí.

I have not seen Linda it doesn't seem possible. After all the high expectations I had placed on her love.

She hasn't written anyone. She didn't leave a trace. No one has heard from her since she left.

I haven't been able, nor will I ever love anyone with such great passion.

Everyday but Sunday I got out to meet the postman in the afternoon, to see if he brought something for me. Oh, my Virgin of Altagracia, perhaps some day she'll remember me.

In one of his other compositions, the composer mentions his devotion to his Muse. He wrote:

Si no eres tú no habrá Musa que me haga cantar. Si no eres tú.

If it isn't you No Muse shall make me sing, If it isn't you.

According to Daniel Santos, Pedro Flores finally met his Linda while in his deathbed at the Veterans Hospital in Puerto Rico. He maintains that the composer's own daughter brought into the hospital room a gray-haired old lady who was indeed the Linda for whom the songwriter had searched all his life.

The Muse who inspired Brazilian composer Antonio Carlos Jobim to write The Girl From Ipanema seems to have emerged from the sea that washes on Ipanema Beach in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. At least, that was the impression Jobim had. The composer and some of his drinking buddies frequented the Bar Veloso, located on a veranda that overlooked that beach. The men were not only attracted by the natural beauty of the shore, but also by the chance to engage in the universal sport of girl watching. In the summer of 1962, a nineteen-year old brunette with long legs, green eyes, and a sensuous way of swinging her hips as the walked, came into Jobim's view. She wore a two-piece bathing suit that delicately framed her shapely body. Sometimes, she would walk past the bar on her way to or from the beach. On other occasions she would walk into the bar to buy cigarettes for her mother. Once in a while, she would practice her drum majorette routines to the delight of all those present, Jobim did not miss any opportunity to feats his eyes on the girl's beauty. All his attempts to contact her were fruitless, she would not even make eye contact with him as she walked past his table. By that time, the name Antonio Carlos Jobim was rather well-known among music lovers in Brazil, but to the young girl he was just another older man who ogled her as she went by.

Jobim was completely charmed by this chaste siren and decided he must write a song about her. His collaborator at that time was poet Vinicius de Moraes. Jobim urged the poet to come to the table at the bar so he could experience the girl's beauty first hand. After several visit to the bar, the vision appeared to the two men. The dialogue they shared upon seeing her ended up as a part of the song's lyrics. Jobim asked him, "Nao a coisa mais linda?" (Isn't she the prettiest thing?) De Moraes answered him, "E a coisa cheia de gracia." (She's full of grace.) The two artists, inspired by the same Muse, wrote what has become one of the most recorded songs in history. The haunting melody was written by Jobim, and De Moraes contributed the lyrics which expressed the feelings of both composers.