Retórica Sentimental

I live in a common place
Near here, called Brazil
Made of three sad races
Green tobacco leaves and guarana, Guarani

Joy, lovers
Joy of Ceci
Excited mannequins
Are bullfights in Madrid

Which in terms of palm trees, still has the lost buriti
Symbol of our adolescence
Sign of our Indian innocence, Tupi blood
And speaking of the thrush
The poet Gonçalves Dias knew
Who knows if he didn't want
A banana Europe

Tell me, Sad Tropics
Orange thrush
By the way, my friend, the popular singer spoke divinely
God is a Brazilian thing, Northeasternly patient
Oh! Blood Moon!