Peão Centenário

Every time I hear about cattle drives
Or the rough transport convoys
My thoughts go back to the road
From afar I hear the cowboys shouting
I know I'm just one among a thousand drovers
But in this work, I was absolute
I handled a beast without difficulty
I was a teacher of the old school
Of this profession that is now in mourning

The Rio Grande Valley has a glorious past
Sung in poems, spoken in sonnets
From the Goiano coffee to the sound of the guitar
To be more precise, I speak of Barretos
Herds resting in the corridor
Of songs sung in beautiful duets
Arriving first, the freighter and the lead cow
Bringing cachaça, jerky, and flour
To light the fire for the cowboy feast

Today I am an old road cowboy
Who has crossed the great centenary
Mounted on a gentle and marching donkey
Time has traced my itinerary
The red dust and the scorching sun
Accompanied me in a beautiful setting
Rivers of piranhas, cold and heavy rain
The August wind and the shadow of death
Only embellished my reliquary

Here in the audience of this grandstand
A cowboy without lasso, spurs, and jacket
Applauds standing the great professionals
Who face the back of a brave horse
It depends on the jump and the riding
To hear the crowd shout with excitement
The spur, beaten by the weight of age
Also makes my heart vibrate with longing
Inside the arena of my heart

My Brazil cowboy
I am you, I am your memory
I am a centennial cowboy
I am a caboclo, I am part of history