| Olha que coisa mais linda, mais cheia de graça
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| É ela a menina que vem e que passa
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| Num doce balanço a caminho do mar
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| Moça do corpo dourado do sol de Ipanema
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| O seu balançado é mais que um poema
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| É a coisa mais linda que eu já vi passar
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| Ah, porque estou tão sozinho
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| Ah, porque tudo e tão triste
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| Ah, a beleza que existe
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| A beleza que não é só minha
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| Que também passa sozinha
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| Ah, se ela soubesse que quando ela passa
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| O mundo sorrindo se enche de graça
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| E fica mais lindo por causa do amor
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| Tall and tan and young
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| And lovely the girl from Ipanema
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| Goes walking and when she passes
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| Each one she passes goes: Ahhh!
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| When she walks she’s like
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| A samba that swings so cool
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| And sways so gently that when she passes
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| Each one she passes goes: Ahhh!
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| Oh, but he watches so sadly
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| How can he tell her he loves her
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| Yes, he would give his heart gladly
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| But each day when she walks to the sea
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| She looks straight ahead, not at he
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| Tall and tan and young
|
| And lovely the girl from Ipanema
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| Goes walking and when she passes
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| He smiles, but she doesn’t see
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| Oh, but he watches so sadly
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| How can he tell her he loves her
|
| Yes, he would give his heart gladly
|
| But each day when she walks to the sea
|
| She looks straight ahead, not at he
|
| Tall and tan and young
|
| And lovely the girl from Ipanema
|
| Goes walking and when she passes
|
| He smiles, but she doesn’t see
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| She doesn’t see
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| No, she doesn’t see
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| But she doesn’t see
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| She doesn’t see
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| No, she doesn’t see |