"É coisa sabida e pela boca de todos corre que há nestas matas certos demônios que os Brasis chamam Curupira." Padre José de Anchieta, Carta de São Vicente (1560)
When the full Moon shone through your branches In that Night She’d blown out the stars Your shadow, cast on my spirit, Torn my veins, depraving my heart No cloud would veil Her power No thunder cracked open the sky Waters, like black oil, glowered Now, like you, I ignite
Dreadful screams carried by the winds Torture my ears, eyes drown in tears. Foul clouds of smoke blacken the sky, Unblossomed wildflowers, they wither and die. Deranged minds feeding on the veins Of the mighty green forest they sickly stain. Black is for war, urucum is for the blood They spill with their pitiful numinous greed.
They weep, they fear The forest, the ghost. The darkness, his laughter, Echoes of lashes.
No God, no mercy, The fire, the snake, A nightmare crawling Their skin, their minds, his preys.
Hatred burns my heart and scars whenever Nature calls. Your fiery spines glowing in the dark, the ornaments of nightfall, Draw us, beasts of the Earth, with your silent grandeur, and light our path as a star. We compose serenades sung by the throats that we slay, worthless agonies heard from afar.
Dreadful screams carried by the winds Torture my ears, eyes drown in tears. Foul clouds of smoke blacken the sky, Unblossomed wildflowers, they wither and die. Deranged minds feeding on the veins Of the mighty green forest they sickly stain. Black is for war, urucum is for the blood I spill in the name of the creatures they killed.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
