Verão

In the summer
The golden and heavenly ember
Burns this wild land
Gilding the wheat even more
Reapers with bent bodies
Harvesting and tying in sheaves
The blonde blessing of life

My Alentejo
While this is happening
The sun, striking without hurry
Burns the bronzed skin even more
Sweat tears the shirt
The burnt man becomes more burnt
And life is made of embers

The heat punishes the bodies
The reapers keep reaping
Without stopping their work
Their singing is mournful
It's certain they are good people
They have truth, and they have more color!