O Menino da Porteira

Every time I traveled on the road to Ouro Fino
From afar I could see the figure of a boy
Who ran to open the gate and then came asking me
Play the horn, sir, so I can listen

When the cattle drive passed and the dust settled
I would throw a coin and he would jump around
Thank you, cowboy, may God be with you
As I played my horn through that backcountry

On the path of this life, I found many thorns
But none struck deeper than what I went through
On my journey back, something bothered me
Seeing the closed gate, I didn't see the boy

I dismounted my horse at a humble little ranch
I saw a woman crying, wanted to know the reason
Cowboy, you came late, see the cross on the road
Who killed my little boy was a heartless ox

Towards the lands of Ouro Fino, leading wild cattle
When I pass by the gate, I still see his image
Its sad creaking seems like a message
From that dark-skinned face wishing me a safe journey

The little cross on the road doesn't leave my mind
I made a vow that I'll never forget
Even if my cattle break loose, even if I have to go after them
I won't play the horn on this piece of land anymore