Natal Galponeiro

The gourd of mate,
Is the chalice of the ritual,
And the shed is the Cathedral
Largest of the Pampas land,
Which adorns itself with lights,
To await CHRISTMAS.

The gourd warms in the palm
Of the hand of the countryside folks,
In their own way,
Praying and soothing the soul,
To regain calm,
That fled from the whole world.
While the traveling big star,
Is already tearing a path,
To announce the 'Little Boy',
The Virgin and the Carpenter.

In the name of the Father,
- The Son and the Holy Spirit,
It's the mate that I raise,
And the wind makes a refrain,
The prayer of the wanderer,
To the Little Savior,
Son of Our Lord,
Of the Spirit and the Father,
Back to the earth where he goes,
To speak of love again!

It has been like this - two thousand years,
No one knows - more or less,
Comes to live with the little ones,
From all meridians,
And repeat to humans,
The prayers of goodwill.
Who knows - it may be,
That one day it will be answered,
And the old lost world,
Finds peace to live.

He knows about the opening,
In which the poor live,
The hunger - the misery - the cold,
That the creature goes through,
But that - still remain - tenderness,
Friendship and hope,
It can, in every journey,
Even in the breadless huts,
Soothe the heart,
In a child's smile!

For me - who heard in the missions,
Stories of the countryside and rodeo,
Of the 'Black Shepherd',
Crossing through the corners,
Of the legends of apparitions,
And snakes burning light.
You were - Baby Jesus,
My faith's lasso,
Joining the Indian Sepé,
The Nazarene of the Cross!

And the Holy Virgin Mary,
Godmother of those who have nothing,
Was always part,
Of my philosophy,
I who made of the Sacristy,
The beaten earth huts,
And who today - gray-haired,
I'm still the same kid,
Blessing around,
The land where I was born!

And the Nazarene who comes,
From the lands of Nazareth,
Divine messenger of faith,
Tracking the light of Bethlehem,
He who will also die,
To fulfill the prophecies.
It's Christmas - the MESSIAH is born,
Hail the Baby Jesus!
But those who flee from the light,
Kill him every day.

Gifts - 'Santa Clauses',
One year waiting for a day,
When the vast majority,
Suffers cruel destinies.
Love worth a 'mil-réis',
And living dead walking,
Institutions going astray,
Because they forgot JESUS,
What is needed, is more light,
In the hearts of those in charge!

May the angels say amen,
To complete the prayer,
Of the cowboy who knows,
The tricks the tiger has.
I don't bet a penny,
Even being a carpenter,
But I pray a rural Te Deum,
In this wild Cathedral,
So that the Carpenter's stepson,
Has a Safe Journey!