Memória Esquecida
Aboio de Vaqueiro
Forgotten Memory
Oh, how I want to listen to country music again
That is not made today
It seems like the sensitivity
Remains in nostalgia, no longer exists
It hurts me to know that some artists
Who achieved success in life
Used the countryside so much in their stories
That now in memory it has been forgotten
Oh, how I want to listen now
To the sound of the viola in a good pagode
Beautiful guarânias that give us goosebumps
In the sound, in the magic of the accordion
Where is the true singer
With simplicity, soul, and heart
Passionate about nature
Singing the beauties of my countryside
How much I miss the fallen land
The wood stove and the coffee plantation in bloom
And the sad singing of the siriema
That used to be the theme of love songs
Even the beautiful patchwork quilt
Served as a blanket, they no longer remember
The wet nurse, divine gift
Today, no one feels the absence she left
Oh, how I want to listen now
To the sound of the viola in a good pagode
Beautiful guarânias that give us goosebumps
In the sound, in the magic of the accordion
The old oil lamp is no longer remembered
That was the first king of the road
I appreciate the progress I see
But the countryman is still countryside
I appreciate the progress I see
But the countryman is still countryside
