Restolho

The chaff moans, sad and lonely
rocking the dark and cold night
disappearing in the gaze of the wind
that sings to the tune of the old bell tower

The chaff moans, trapped in longing
forgotten, insane, dominated
hidden among the shadows of the cork oak forest
without strength, without color, without will

The chaff moans, sweating from the rain
in the fields that the harvester mutilated
sleeping in old dreams it dreamt
in the soul the huge, intense, sharp sorrow

But it's necessary to die and be born again
sow in the dust and return to reap
one must be wheat, then be chaff
one must suffer to learn to live

and life is not just existing with nothing else
life is not every other day
it's made in each wild surrender
to receive what fills the heart

The chaff moans, sweating from the rain
in the fields that the harvester mutilated
sleeping in old dreams it dreamt
in the soul the huge, intense, sharp sorrow

But it's necessary to die and be born again
sow in the dust and return to reap
one must be wheat, then be chaff
one must suffer to learn to live

and life is not just existing with nothing else
life is not every other day
it's made in each wild surrender
to receive what fills the heart