Mistico dos Galpões
Alexandre Taveira
Mystic of the Barns
Big fire burning inside the barn
Thoughts drifting away, nostalgic and painful
With frequent apparitions, between images and whispers
Bringing to eyes and ears the things that are missing
Weapons, crests, and flags all captured in the scene
They’re ghosts of the past that I still live with
Fading when dawn breaks through the hills
Returning at night to the barns for the ritual to begin again
Returning at night to the barns for the ritual to begin again
They seem to rise from the fire, merging with the smoke
Passages of our people spreading through the barn
Constant transformation, the figures keep changing
Painting the imagination with the plains as the frame
They’re doors flung wide open, lights without lanterns
Witches braiding manes of the wild horses
From the coast to the border spreading across the ranches
Tales, stories, and legends, and the fear of Friday the 13th
To the wide trunk of the years, over a century has passed
The story continued before, during, and after
In uncles, in parents, and grandparents, in every moon phase
Because the story goes on, and the ones who change are us
Because the story goes on, and the ones who change are us
They seem to rise from the fire, merging with the smoke
Passages of our people spreading through the barn
Constant transformation, the figures keep changing
Painting the imagination with the plains as the frame
