Canto Das Três Raças

No one heard a sob of pain
In the song of Brazil.
A sad lament has always echoed
Since the warrior Indian
Was taken captive and sang from there.

The Black man raised a song of revolt in the air
In the Quilombo dos Palmares, where he found refuge.
It was the struggle of the rebels
To break the chains.
It was all for nothing.

And from war to peace, from peace to war,
All the people of this land
When they can sing,
Sing out of pain.

And it echoes night and day: it’s deafening.
Oh, what agony
The song of the worker...
This song that should be a song of joy
Sounds only like a sob of pain.