O Campo
César Oliveira e Rogério Melo
The Field
Pampeano stopped
Bumped into a stick
The noose was stretched
From island to cleat
On the other side a gated
It cinched a paw
The ox screams and stops
Predicting bleeding
At the tip of the knife
The destiny is set
And the bleeder is cut
Staining flexillas
The ties loosen
The Pampean kneels
About the red spot
From the pottery floor
The ironed leaf
Already scratches the leather
In Creole ritual
From a frontier payment
If it was another ox
For rope and ammunition
And the slaughter for addiction
From the country roast
The strength of the field
Overwintered regrowth
Fatten the herd
And sustains the nation
It is the same contained and lived
Flaunting this life
From this southern corner
And the field again
Lush blooms
Because it has a foundation
From Varzea and Coxilha
Reborn in death
And becomes stronger
Drinking the sangria
And so it goes on
Locking up at the resort
Establishing constancy
To maintain existence
Taking livestock
On ranches and sheds
In townhouses and mansions
In distant places
So that the world knows
The value of a race
Showing what happens
The field and its essence
