It encourages me the heathen's frankness

and the truth blooms in my mouth.

There are people that treat me of crazy soul,

of heart without affections — empty.

And I feel when the log is cleared

of a friend vegetable... and I shudder

of horror when seeing a dead and cold son

and its mother that by last time touch it!

Grandson of the aimores and of the tapuias,

also touch me the hallelujahs,

intoned by birds, in the forests.

I love the children, the senility,

the whole Nature that is fidelity —