No Rancho Fundo
Ary Barroso
In the Backwoods
In the backwoods
Far beyond the end of the world
Where pain and longing
Tell stories of the city
In the backwoods
With a sad and deep gaze
A dark-skinned man sings his sorrows
With eyes full of tears
Poor dark-skinned man who in the evening dew
Waits for the moon in the yard
Having a cigarette as a companion
Without a wave
He picks up the guitar
And the moon as alms
Comes to the yard of this dark-skinned man
In the backwoods
Far beyond the end of the world
There was never joy again
Neither at night nor during the day
The groves no longer tell secrets
And the last palm tree
Has died in the mountain range
The birds
Hibernate in their nests
So sad is this sadness
It fills nature with darkness
All because, just because of the dark-skinned man
Who was great, today is small
For a house of thatch
If God knew
Of the sadness up in the mountains
He would send up there
All the love there is on earth
Because the dark-skinned man
Lives crazy with longing
Just because of the poison
Of the women from the city
He who was
The singer of spring
And who made the backwoods
The best heaven in the world
If a flower blooms
And the sun burns
The mountain starts freezing
Reminds of the scent of the brunette
