Sertão Vazio

Empty backlands, giant asleep
Heart wounded by fatal blows
Nest without bird, garden without flower
Beginning of pain, end of peace
In its corner full of sadness
Nature cries, the stream murmurs
Living in the city, I'm a poor wretch
Far from the fields, harvesting bitterness

The masters of the world with vibrant blows
Made my giant backlands fall asleep
Old traditions fell forever
Leaving only the breeze to moan
Descending the mountain among green bushes
The stream sobs, awakening the source
Even the moon, once cheerful
Now seems sad on the horizon

Empty backlands slowly dying
Silently suffering destruction
Like a torn fabric in pieces
Dew drops vanishing on the ground
Tears of blood I see shedding
Many countrymen with wounded souls
My empty backlands sleep sobbing
Awake crying in lifeless mornings

Here far away, a great sorrow
Feeling on my face my tears fall
Empty backlands, a kingdom without a king
I'll shout your name for the city to hear
The big cities have agriculture
And no one can stop your backward march
Beloved backlands, powerful root
Without you, my country can't stand