Sertão Sofredor

- Speaking:
Ah, my old suffering backlands! Heavy land of the drop! Soft land, vote...
When it rains there, it rains to melt everything. The land turns into mud, the flood destroys the poor, a big dam for the world... That's not even rain, it's a deluge! And when it doesn't rain, it's even worse, my boss! It's the fierce summer! Scorching everything, breaking, destroying what was green! Man... I skip summer in my backlands, only the pool table cloth stays green, sunglasses and parrot feathers! It's a disgrace, my boss!
Ah, Old suffering Backlands!
Even Paulo Afonso, which was the redemption of the Northeast, has become a luxury thing. It's only serving to illuminate the big cities.
Where are the factories?
Where are the industries?
Where are the good things advertised for the Northeast?
And if another harsh drought comes?
Ah! Ah! It's a curse, my boss...
Ah! Little suffering backlands...
That's why I sing:
Can I speak? - You can...
- Singing: I want to speak
About my backlands
My little backlands
Despised like what
I ask for the attention
Of everyone
For my land
Land of my affection

Raw material
We have everything first-rate, yes
Human value
Honest and orderly people too
What we lack then
Is a loyal help
From the big boss
From the Federal government
That's it...