Mãe de Carvão

Mounted on the back of the crazy longing
I left the city, returned to the backlands
I went to see my house on the old farm
The shack, the mill, the old shed

I arrived quietly looking around
My eyes wet with so much emotion
I passed the barbed wire fence
The thick angico looked at me from the ridge

At the door of the shack, right by the threshold
I bumped into the rosebush, got a scratch
The beautiful rosebush with red roses
Was scolding the runaway son

I passed the little living room and went to the kitchen
In the corner there was still the old stove
I looked at the wall, my eyes stopped
And my feet got stuck to the ground

I saw on the wall a traced face
That long ago I drew in coal
Time and rain wet the plaster
And made the touch-up with such perfection

It made me a child wrapped in a blanket
In the lap of the saint, safe in your hands
Your eyes were radiant with brightness
Holding the child and giving the blessing

I closed my eyes, prayed to her
Painted on the canvas of my illusion
Dear little mother, my great treasure
You are made of gold, not of coal
In the world where I walk on crazy roads
I know I am nothing without your protection