Caboclo

Caboclo when you leave
Wakes up the sun in the morning
Plants cotton
Plants clouds on the ground

At night, when you return
Brings stars in the bag
Safes of the backlands
That sow in the backyard

Descending from the horizon
He takes off his hat
Looking at a spring
That spits towards the sky

Lying in the landscape
In the foliage he wrapped
Feet of a morning
Strolling through the light

The wind on his face
Blows gently, takes the sun
Like taking the dust
Off an old suit

And putting his feet in the mud
His shoe made only
Of clay to be worn out
When stepping on the grass