Mágoa de Boiadeiro

In the past, it didn't even exist in dreams
So many bridges over the rivers
No asphalt on the roads
We used four or five bell towers
To bring the Pantanal resident to the cattle roundup

But nowadays
Everything is very different
Progress, our people
You don't even have an idea
That among other things, I was a cowboy
On this Brazilian ground
The heroes of the epic

I miss seeing you in the currutelas
The girls in the windows waving a flower
For all this, I regret and confess
That the march of progress is my great pain

Every manta ray I see loaded
Transporting a herd of cattle already makes my heart ache
And when I look at my hanging betrayal
I laugh out of sadness so I don't cry out of passion

My horse, neighing across the field
Who certainly also cries in the saddest solitude
My pair of spurs, my wide-brimmed hat
A packraft, a horn and a machete

The old stick, my woodsman's lasso
The Pole and the freighter, my scarf and the doublet
There is still the guaiaca without money
Of this poor cattleman who lost his profession

I'm not a poet, I'm just a country bumpkin
And the theme that inspires me is the fiber of the pawn
Almost crying, meditating on this pain
I scribbled these words and this song came out

Song that talks about missing the inns
That I've done with the farmhands next to the fire in a shed
I miss hearing the morning sound so much
From a lazy bellow
In the confines of my backlands