Beco do Mota

Clearing in the night, in the night
Deserted procession, deserted
At the doors of the archdiocese of my country
Deserted profession, deserted

Men and women in the night
Men and women in the night of my country

In this square I won't forget
Where the new became the old
Empty colonial
In these afternoons I won't forget
Where the living became the dead
Warning, cold stone
They’ve wiped out the alley
But no one will live there
Filled with memories, the people come
From the dark depths, the alley
In this bright square, it dissolves
Stone, priest, bridge, wall
And a sound cutting through the dark night
Empty colonial
Through the shadows of the city
Hymn of a strange pilgrimage
Lament, living water

They’ve wiped out the alley
But no one will live there
Filled with memories, the people come
From the dark depths, the alley
In this bright square, it dissolves

Deserted profession, deserted
Men and women in the night
Men and women in the night of my country
At the alley's door we stand
Deserted procession, deserted
At the doors of the archdiocese of my country
Diamantina is Mota's Alley

Minas is Mota's Alley
Brazil is Mota's Alley
Long live my country