Grito dos Livres

When the fields of this south were greener
Pampas Indians who inhabited the place
Were blending with the white man's race
Newly arrived from overseas
And the new being that formed mixed
Became a seed, sprouted and became a people
And a new cry echoed on the continent
Reminding everyone that this land had an owner

As long as the gaucho is seen in the pampas
As long as this race insists on living
The cry of the free will echo in these hills
Seeking liberated horizons in peace
In the cry of the Indian, the initial cry
With the smell of the land in the very ideal
Of love for the liberated homeland in the pampas
Generated in the prints of the ancestral

The new race grew and drew boundaries
That well demarcate the extent of ideals
And the same people now repeat the cry
Founded on cultural roots
Freedom has no time or borders
The free man does not bend and does not lose his tone
Repeating to everyone in an old cry

Times pass but the land still has an owner

From the cry of the Indian, to the current cries
There is the smell of the land in the very ideals
Of a suffering people, upright in will
To write freedom in their memorials
As long as the gaucho is seen in the pampas
As long as this race insists on living
The cry of the free will echo in these hills
Seeking liberated horizons in peace
As long as the gaucho is seen in the pampas
As long as this race insists on living
The cry of the free will echo in these hills
Seeking liberated horizons in peace