Não Peguei o Ita

Over the Amazon forest, my destiny
as a singer.
Somalia, Angola, Brazil, third world,
the same color.

I think that man exudes his earthy smell
if he is the fruit and the root, has the light of passion
and plants his foot like fertilizer and his heart
procreates.

My father has in his laughter, a river of hope
revealing.
My mother doesn't hide despair in her gaze...
she reveals the pain.

But I taste the flavor of cupuaçu on my lips,
my breath crosses the country from north to south
and I feel the pleasure of knowing who I am and what I am
to the world.

Do you know how to dance and sing carimbó?
I do!
The most beautiful bay is Guajará's,
my love.
It's nice to be able to sail,
sing to you and pay homage
on the corners of another city,
in the corners of life...
I didn't catch the Ita!

I bring courage in my voice, Master Lucindo
is a singer.
Mango trees resist time and the devastating universe.
The 'Rodrigues' grove is not the Lagoa do Rio,
but life dwells in it, impregnates in heat.
The caboclo Indian sows secrets of love,
still.

The world perceives your meaning,
your value,
breathes your fear and screams your overwhelming danger.
I want to understand and live beyond,
to have tacacá on a beautiful Belém afternoon,
to feel your warmth, go to the square and whisper
with the rain.

Do you know how to dance and sing siriá?
I do!
This is not Rio de Janeiro, but it's Rio Guamá,
my love.
There will be a show tonight at Preamar,
there's the fair for tapioca.
I'll arrive in São Paulo
and play with the old Bixiga...
I didn't catch the Ita!