Um Vistaço na Tropa

I took a great view in the troop at dawn
I pumped the horizon with a rustic verse
The cattle blocking Rio Grande in the step
In the hoof, the rhythm of the mottled-overo

The raincoat sleeve pointed at the border
Silhouette of a poncho, opened over the hip
And there like me, a lonely heron
Figure in the sky a cross of white wings

(I carry a homeland in the pair of spurs)
(Tempered by stars picked in the south)
(And another creaking over the saddle)
(Steadying the support for a good Paysandu)

(For leagues of road in the cattle's lowing)
Time knows well that I have borders
And the winds play in my countryside-sea
Shed that is my poncho, without the color of a flag

Even the worn-out stamp of the afternoon
Gained May eyes and decided to start
For the desire for pasture for the troop grows
Of mate, saddlebag, and unsaddling

I see the ranch in the remaining leagues
I imagine the angico tree roaming in the embers
Firing up the longing with the peace of the shed
And the soul of the people, feels in the houses

I carry a homeland in the pair of spurs
Tempered by stars picked in the south
And another creaking over the saddle
Steadying the support for a good Paysandu

For leagues of road in the cattle's lowing
Time knows well that I have borders
And the winds play in my countryside-sea
Shed that is my poncho, without the color of a flag

I carry a homeland in the pair of spurs