Deus No Meu Sertão

When the day breaks in my backlands
I see up close, God with His creation
The thrush with its chorus starts the party
And the forest turns into a song

The dove with its flock leaves the nests
And the canaries coloring the groves
The rooster crows, the sun rises over the mountains
It's God showing that it was made with His fingers

A great kiskadee on the roof of the little ranch
Sings alone, missing the loved one
Who was taken by the hands of a hunter
Leaving the pain embedded in his chest

And suddenly, the sky fills with swallows
Tiny, but they fill all the space
High-pitched notes are their melodies
They praise God with pleasure and without fatigue

And that's how God created everything perfect
And gave me strength in my chest to show in a song
Like a poet, a guitarist, a player
I show that the creator of my backlands lives to reign

At noon everything falls silent
Then I think the party is over
I hear in the distance the singing of a dove
Announcing that the fire has gone out

The birds are in the cozy shade
For a moment, to escape the scorching sun
And they tear through the foliage of the forest
To germinate each tiny seed

In the late afternoon the rufous-bellied thrush opens its beak
Letting out a cry that the sun has already cooled
The rufous hornero joyfully responds from the thatch
And among the flowers the hummingbird plays happily

But it saddens me, in my chest I feel pity
When the Jaor decrees night in the backlands
I grab the guitar and start to praise
The great Author of all this creation

And that's how God created everything perfect
And gave me strength in my chest to show in a song
Like a poet, a guitarist, a player
I show that the creator of my backlands lives to reign