Itamarandiba

In the middle of my path there will always be a stone
I will plant my house in a city of stone
Itamarandiba, running stone, small stone rolling lifelessly
As small and almost dull is the life of the people who live in the valley

On the way to this city you will pass by Turmalina
You will dream of Pedra Azul, you will live in Diamantina
On the way to this city the women are dark-skinned
The men will be happy as if they were boys