Triste Partida

My God, my God...

September passed
October and November
We're already in December
My God, what will become of us
My God, my God
This is how the poor man speaks
From the dry Northeast
Afraid of the plague
Of the fierce hunger
Oh, oh, oh, oh

On the thirteenth of the month
He made an attempt
Lost his faith
In the salt stones
My God, my God
But in another hope
He clings with pleasure
Thinking about the joy
Of Christmas
Oh, oh, oh, oh

Christmas came
But joy did not come
The sun very red
Rose far beyond
My God, my God
In the treetops
The cicada buzzes
No one sees the joy
Because the joy is not there
Oh, oh, oh, oh

Without rain on the land
January descends
Then February
And the same summer
My God, my God
Then the northerner
Thinking to himself
Says: 'this is punishment
It won't rain anymore'
Oh, oh, oh, oh

He turns to March
Which is the favorite month
Of the beloved saint
Lord Saint Joseph
My God, my God
But no rain comes
Everything is out of sorts
The rest of his faith
Escapes him
Oh, oh, oh, oh

Now thinking
He follows another path
Calling the family
He begins to say
My God, my God
I'm selling my donkey
My mule and the horse
We're going to São Paulo
To live or die
Oh, oh, oh, oh

We're going to São Paulo
Because things are bad
In foreign lands
We'll wander
My God, my God
If our fate
Is not so mean
Here and in the same corner
We'll return
Oh, oh, oh, oh

And he sells his donkey
Mule and the horse
Even the rooster
They also sold
My God, my God
Then a happy farmer appears
For little money
He buys what he has
Oh, oh, oh, oh

In a truck
He loads the family
The sad day has come
He's about to travel
My God, my God
The terrible drought
That devours everything
Forces him out
Of his native land
Oh, oh, oh, oh

The car speeds up
At the top of the hill
Looking back at the land
His cradle, his home
My God, my God
That northerner
Filled with sorrow
Waves from afar
Goodbye my place
Oh, oh, oh, oh

The next day
Already tired
And the car speeding
Fast on the road
My God, my God
So sad, poor thing
Speaking nostalgically
His tearful son
Exclaims
Oh, oh, oh, oh

With sorrow and longing
Daddy, I know I'll die
My poor dog
Who will feed him?
My God, my God
Another asks
Mommy, what about my cat?
Hungry, neglected
Will Mimi die?
Oh, oh, oh, oh

And the little beauty
Trembling with fear
'Mommy, my toys
My flower plant?'
My God, my God
My rose bush
Poor thing, it withers
And my doll
Also stayed there
Oh, oh, oh, oh

And so they leave
With weeping and moaning
From their beloved cradle
Beautiful blue sky
My God, my God
The father, sorrowful
Thinking of his children
And the car rolling
On the Southern road
Oh, oh, oh, oh

They arrived in São Paulo
Without a penny
And the poor man, shy
Looks for an employer
My God, my God
He only sees strange faces
Of strange people
Everything is different
From his dear land
Oh, oh, oh, oh

He works for two years
Three years and more
And always with the plan
To return one day
My God, my God
But he never can
He only lives in debt
And so he keeps suffering
Endless suffering
Oh, oh, oh, oh

If any news
From the northern lands
By luck he hears
The pleasure of listening
My God, my God
It hits his heart
Nostalgia wets him
And tears in his eyes
Begin to fall
Oh, oh, oh, oh

From the distant world
There he lives trapped
Suffering neglect
Owing to the boss
My God, my God
Time goes by
Days come and go
And that family
Will never return
Oh, oh, oh, oh

Far from the land
So dry but good
Exposed to the drizzle
To the mud and the city
My God, my God
It's pitiful for the northerner
So strong, so brave
To live as a slave
In the North and the South
Oh, oh, oh, oh