Hino de Flores da Cunha - RS

Wrapped in a dream
Your Italy left,
Facing the pain in the seas,
The immigrant arrived here;

And from the untamed mountains,
The vine took hold,
Being the mast of the flag
Of a history that remained.

Wine flows, glasses spin
Sparkling with pleasure,
To toast Flores da Cunha,
Land of the Rooster and of good living.

The seed is sown
By the hand of the farmer,
Another more delicate hand
Creates the art of flavor.

In the work of wood
Artisan jewels are born;
The needles weave meshes
Like musical scores.

An imposing tower
Represents the strength
Of a religious people
Founded on their labor.

The waterfalls, which seem
Natural sparkling wines,
Also recall so many tears
Of the brave ancestors.