Learn Portuguese With Marília Tavares with these 15 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)

“Buquê De Espinhos” paints a vivid picture of a woman finally waking up to the truth about her toxic relationship. In a raw conversation with her own reflection, she notices the tell-tale signs of heartache: smudged makeup, lonely nights, and the heavy silence of a partner who is never really there. The chorus delivers the song’s central lesson in punchy, memorable lines: if love makes you suffer, it is not love at all. Her boyfriend is compared to a bouquet of thorns without flowers—something that looks like affection from afar but only brings pain the closer you get.

By the end, the song turns this moment of self-critique into empowerment. The singer urges listeners not to “shrink themselves” to fit into someone else’s life and reminds them that real love does not need begging or tears. Marília Tavares and Thiago Aquino mix heartfelt sertanejo vocals with relatable storytelling, offering both a catchy tune and a liberating message: throw away that thorny bouquet and choose self-love instead.

Feel like shouting a poetic "that will teach you" at someone who broke your heart? Dissabor captures that very explosion of emotions. In this fiery Brazilian country-pop track, Marília Tavares turns heartbreak into a declaration of cosmic justice. The singer has been wronged, and she is not shy about wishing her ex the exact - or even worse - dose of pain she had to swallow. The word dissabor itself means bitterness, and the entire song is a fierce toast to making sure that bitterness is shared equally.

Throughout the lyrics, Marília paints vivid scenes of payback: she hopes her ex stumbles head-first into loneliness, that no amount of alcohol can dull their disappointment, and that they eventually drown in their own tears. It is raw, sarcastic, and cathartic. Rather than quietly moving on, the singer chooses to own her anger and invite the listener to do the same. The result is an anthem for anyone who has ever dreamed of seeing karma work its magic - set to catchy melodies that make the sting feel empowering instead of just painful.

Marília Tavares turns heartbreak into a power anthem in Segunda Chance. Over a catchy Brazilian sertanejo beat she calls out a partner who was great in bed but lousy at loyalty. The lyrics hit hard: if you can betray once, you can betray again, so forgiving you would be like saying “Go ahead, repeat the mistake.” Her vivid comparison of a “second chance” to a “second pair of horns” (another act of infidelity) shows just how little faith she has left in this love.

The song is a fiery declaration of self-respect. With lines like “Te amar já foi um erro / Voltar é burrice” (“Loving you was already a mistake / Going back would be stupid”), Marília shuts the door on past pain and invites listeners to do the same. It is a reminder that real love and real fidelity should exist together, and if they don’t, walking away is the smartest, strongest move you can make.

“Mão Boba” (“Silly Hand”) is Marília Tavares’s playful anthem to no-strings-attached desire. The singer knows her partner’s sweet talk is all make-believe, yet she dives into the “trap” of his bed because the chemistry feels irresistible. By letting his mão boba wander while keeping her own heart guarded, she flips the script—she is not the fool he thinks she is; she is the one calling the shots.

The lyrics celebrate owning pleasure on your own terms. She invites him to lie, lie, lie as long as the moment stays gostoso (deliciously good), showing that pretending can be part of the fun when you are fully aware of the game. “Mão Boba” turns casual passion into a confident declaration of freedom, self-knowledge and unapologetic enjoyment.

Porque Choras Bebê, by Brazilian artist Marília Tavares, is a cheeky post-breakup taunt wrapped in a catchy sertanejo melody. The singer addresses an ex who once bragged about moving on quickly, partying hard, and forgetting her after the very first kiss. Now the roles have flipped: while she enjoys her single life offline, he floods her phone with tearful voice messages. The song pokes fun at his sudden burst of saudade (deep longing) and highlights the irony of someone who thought they would be perfectly fine yet crumbles at the thought of her with someone new.

Rather than wallowing in heartache, Marília serves confidence and humor. She reminds her ex – and the listener – that being quiet on social media does not mean being lonely or desperate. With the repeated question “Por que choras, bebê?” (“Why are you crying, baby?”), she flips the usual breakup narrative, turning the track into an empowering anthem for anyone who has ever been underestimated after love ends.

In "Ai É Loucura" ("Now That’s Crazy"), Brazilian singer Marília Tavares slips into the role of a straight-talking best friend. She begs her buddy to wake up and remember every time the ex-boyfriend vanished, lied, or kissed someone else. Each chorus is like a playful eye-roll: "You’re really going back? Girl, that’s pure madness!"

Under the lively beat, the song is a pep-talk about self-respect. It celebrates the friend who dares to say what we sometimes need to hear: stop falling for sweet excuses, dump the toxic romance, and choose your own happiness instead. The message is simple yet empowering—real love never makes you feel second best.

Infiel Não Chora is a fiery anthem of self-respect and zero tolerance for betrayal. Marília Tavares sings from the perspective of someone who just caught their partner cheating, armed with undeniable proof in texts and voice messages. She refuses every excuse, calling out the liar’s half-hearted apologies and pointing out that the tears only flow because the cheater got busted, not because they feel genuine remorse.

Instead of wallowing in sadness, the song flips the script into empowerment: no kneeling, no sad puppy eyes, and definitely no forgiveness. The repeated line "Infiel não chora de arrependimento, chora porque foi pego" drives home the idea that a dishonest heart would still be cheating if it hadn’t been exposed. It is a catchy, cathartic reminder to trust your instincts, stand your ground, and never let a smooth talker rewrite the truth.

Inimiga da Saudade is a cheeky, upbeat anthem about shaking off heartbreak before the tears even have time to fall. Marília Tavares playfully boasts that she almost cried and almost drowned her sorrows in a drink, yet she never even saw the bottom of the glass. With a wink, she tells her ex that she has already forgotten not only their kiss but even their name, proving that nostalgia and regret are not on her playlist.

The chorus drives the joke home: how could anyone believe her life now revolves around binge-drinking and late-night bars? After all, she proudly calls herself the “inimiga da saudade” – the sworn enemy of longing. The song mixes humor, confidence, and a touch of irony, turning what could have been a sad country ballad into a lively celebration of independence and emotional resilience. Listeners are invited to laugh, sing along, and remember that sometimes the best revenge is simply moving on with a smile.

Picture this: a tiny carry-on stuffed with just five T-shirts, one pair of jeans, flip-flops, a towel, and a nearly empty bottle of perfume. That little suitcase is the perfect metaphor for the tiny amount of care the singer’s partner invested in their love story. In “Mala De Mão,” Marília Tavares turns everyday packing into a playful yet pointed reminder that half-hearted feelings simply will not fly.

As she zips up the bag, the narrator also closes the chapter on the relationship. She wishes her ex happiness—“even if it’s without me”—but makes it clear she deserves joy too. Yes, there will be tears, yet the real pain would be staying in a love that never measured up. The chorus drives it home: her affection needed more space than her partner ever offered. “Mala De Mão” is a catchy self-love anthem about knowing your worth, packing light, and walking toward a future that finally fits.

“Celular 2” turns a simple piece of technology into the ultimate symbol of betrayal. Marília Tavares sings from the viewpoint of someone who thought her relationship was rock-solid. Her partner even shared his phone password, so why worry? Everything shatters when she finds out he owns a second phone packed with flirty conversations and “64 gigas de safadeza” (64 gigabytes of mischief). On phone one she is the love of his life; on phone two she is not even saved as a contact.

The chorus repeats this painful contrast, mixing humor and heartbreak while showing how easy it is to lead double lives in the digital age. Between tears on the touchscreen and plans to drink the memories away, the song captures modern cheating in a catchy, relatable way. Listeners will laugh at the clever lyrics, feel the sting of the betrayal, and maybe double-check their partner’s phone situation afterward!

“Beijo Pilantra” plunges us into the fiery push-and-pull of a situationship that tastes sweet in the moment and hurts like a hangover the next day. Marília Tavares sings as someone who knows exactly how dangerous their lover’s kiss is, yet keeps circling back for more. She tries to keep her guard up—“tira a mão do meu pescoço” (“take your hand off my neck”)—but the chemistry is explosive. Two more drinks and she forgets every red flag, letting the smooth-talking “pilantra” (trickster) tie her tongue in knots with empty “I love you”s.

Behind the catchy beat lies a tale of temptation, regret, and self-realization. The partner disappears “with the moon,” leaving her to face a week of tears and a bed full of lonely memories. Each time he slips away, she drowns the heartbreak in alcohol, swearing she’ll ignore him next time—yet his rogue kiss keeps resetting the cycle. The song captures that relatable moment when desire overpowers logic, painting a vivid picture of a love that’s intoxicating, addictive, and ultimately unsatisfying.

“Hipócrita” is a fiery ultimatum set to melody. Marília Tavares calls out a partner who loves to promise the moon but is terrified of showing that love in daylight. He tells her to sleep well yet never stays the night, swears he will make it official yet refuses to take the risk. In other words, he is stuck “on the fence” — or, as the Portuguese line goes, não desce do muro. Marília’s voice drips with both frustration and sass as she exposes this double life and labels it for what it is: hypocrisy.

The song turns into a playful but pointed challenge. She warns him to “open the parachute” because the fall will be hard when she finally gives up. She even jokes that he should invest in tear-proof makeup, since tears never send a calendar invite before they fall. The repeating hook “assume quem quer te assumir” drives the message home: only someone brave enough to claim you deserves your love. “Hipócrita” is empowerment wrapped in catchy Sertanejo-Pop, reminding listeners to demand authenticity and stop settling for half-hearted affection.

Heartbreak with a catchy beat – that is what Brazilian singer Marília Tavares delivers in “Barulho Da Cama.” Over a lively sertanejo melody, she paints the picture of someone who simply cannot escape reminders of an ex. The narrator drives past the old apartment out of sheer habit, watches the gate open and close, and feels the sting of no longer being allowed inside.

The twist arrives when the friendly porter spills the truth: the ex has already filled the empty spot – and the new couple is so loud that the neighbors keep filing complaints about the barulho da cama (bed noise). Every creak becomes salt in the wound, proving just how quickly she has been replaced. The song is a bittersweet mix of humor and hurt, showing how jealousy, nostalgia, and gossip can collide on one noisy street corner.

“Existe Homem Existe Macho” is an explosive break-up anthem where Marília Tavares flips the script on a cheating partner. Over a lively Brazilian beat, she lists everything she’s done — keeping the house tidy, washing the clothes — while he’s out partying and betraying her trust. Instead of suffering in silence, she calls him out with sharp humor, branding him a cabra safado (good-for-nothing guy) and making it clear she refuses to play the fool.

The chorus drives home her message of self-respect: there are real men (homens) and there are insecure “machos,” and her ex ranks far below both. By repeating the line “Eu fui um mulherão da porra,” she turns her frustration into a rallying cry for anyone who’s ever been undervalued. The result is a catchy empowerment track that celebrates drawing boundaries, speaking up, and recognizing your own worth.

“Remédio” is Marília Tavares’s bold breakup anthem, sung from the point of view of someone who has finally moved on. The ex waited until she had already walked away to admit how much he misses her, but it is far too late. With a mix of confidence and playful sarcasm, she dismisses his dramatic pleas and makes it clear that pity will not pull her back. Listeners can almost picture her smirking as she sings, “Foi mal aí, sinto muito, mas eu não tô nem aí” – a direct, “Sorry, not sorry” response to his regret.

The catchy hook offers her ex a special “medicine”: he should take all that lingering longing, drop it “to the bottom of the glass,” and drink it away like a bitter shot. This tongue-in-cheek prescription flips the usual heartbreak narrative, turning the tables so the regret belongs to him, not her. Empowering and gleefully unapologetic, the track celebrates self-worth and the fresh freedom that comes with refusing to fall for old drama.