Xote dos Poetas

I dreamed of Pablo Neruda, in the middle of Praia do Futuro
Writing on a huge wall, the word is liberated
With poems by Vinicius, in their brothers they were brothers
Recited Éluard

And people in the afternoon, poets from all over the world
Writing everywhere, the word liberated
I flew with Castro Alves, Gregório also Gonçalves
Latin days and nights, Cabral dancing a frevo

And an impromptu blind man, in the immense hall of clarity
Flashed in a smile, the word liberated
The whole Andrade family, Zé Limeira, Ferreira and I
Pessoa and Garcia Lorca, burning a stick from a gallows

Hoisting Manuel Flag, the free word
Maracatu de D. Santa, Batutas de S. José
Patativa do Assaré, and also Dodô and Osmar
I saw Dirceu behind the fence: Open, Marília, it's me

Dreaming of a sky of fire, free that you will also be
And a smell of tangerine, peeled Jorge de Lima
Orpheus' inventions, prayed Murilo Mendes
The people shouted in the valley, on a large concrete wall

Neon gas over the desert
Registration opens late
The foot in flip-flops screamed, the bóia-fria heated up
It spelled a macaw stick, between Maria's thighs

And a plate of beans, the illiterate deciphered
Mallarmé's writing, amidst the stroke of luck
Death fled to Mars
Life said: Here jazz swings everywhere

Xote, xaxado and baião, the repentista Azulão
Advertised in the countryside
The word freedom
A desperate song, two Chilean women love

He went with three maidens, four many brunettes
At five in the afternoon, the big Basque series
In seven stars, I hear new Brazilians

Nueve puñales, balconies diez
Bleed on the afternoon mural
The word liberated
Freedom