I do not make account of the lost time
That the time alone passes
Not return pra backwards
I do not read the lines
The lines are straight lines
The verses, poems Quandaries are more
The stories disfarçam The suffered life,
race Of our old poor persons parents
I do not cut the ropes
Because on them they are my feet
He admires me the sky is the limit
Destination, punishment in any place
Bendito is with all certainty
Or does not have people not
Moonlight as this of the hinterland
People do not have or not .