Aguapé

My father's sugarcane field
Don't cut my hair
My mother combed it
My stepmother buried me
By the fig tree
That the bird pecked

Companion passing by the road
Following the path of the backlands
When you see the abandoned house
Let it sleep in peace in solitude

What's the value of the fragrant rosemary branch
That you throw on her bosom as you pass by?
You'll scare away the restless flock
Of moths that come to rest there

This house has no outside
The house has no inside
Three wooden chairs
One room, table in the center

Open river, loose boat
Ipe tree blooming at the door
Under which not long ago
I buried my dead daughter

Under which not long ago
I buried my dead daughter
Here the dead are good
As they don't bother at all
As they don't eat the living's bread
Nor take up space on the road
As they don't eat the living's bread
Nor take up space on the road

Nothing, nothing
The old woman sitting, the lace noise
The girl sitting, nibbling on her snack
The old woman sitting, the lace noise
The girl sitting, nibbling on her snack

Nothing, nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing
Nothing happens here, no
Nothing
Nothing, nothing
Nothing, absolutely nothing
And the water hyacinth, there in the pond
Over the water, nothing
And it leaves the canoe's edge
Perfumed
It's the chimney in vain
Of a factory set up
Over the water that produces
This pure morning air

Nothing, nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing
Nothing happens here, no

Nothing, nothing
Nothing, absolutely nothing