Lá na Campanha

At the end of the day when the sun starts to fade
I let go of the ties that come with the grind
I rush right over to the warmth of the fire
In the barn, the wild corner of my life

I poke the embers and brew a good mate
I watch the dew soaking the grass
I stir the coals, well-cooked in the ashes
And I wander through the houses, dreaming for myself

Come to the countryside where traditions stay alive
Just like the grass that has a green hue
A bitter taste I carry like a burden
A wild habit rooted deep in the plains

I sing of the countryside where the cold wind cries
It’s where the sorrows of this cowboy reside
Carrying a dream under a friendly poncho
Finding shelter for this poor heart