Caça à Raposa

The look of the dogs, the hand on the reins
And the green of the forest
White teeth, dogs
The horn in the distance, the laughter
The dogs, the hand on the forehead
The gaze searches, anticipates
The pain in the red heart
Ladies, your rings, steeds
And the pain in the red heart
The trailer clicks, a fan points: It was there!

A dog look, hands are legs
And the green of the forest
Oh, morning between mornings!

The horn overhead, the dogs
No gaps
The gaze closes, a memory
Stroke the red heart
A head of hair on the hay
Drown the red heart
Mounts brake, teeth white: It's over

Red tongues of lovers
Always incandescent dreams
They start over right away
That we consider them most absent
Starting over, starting over
Like songs and epidemics
Starting over like the harvests
Like the moon and cowardice
Starting over like passion and fire