Entradas and Bandeiras
88 years are gone
A normal day
Like others
Entradas without Flags
Disbanded,
To blaze this trail further.
Wishes and vows in yesterday
With fireworks and joys
Fleeting.
Hopes and dreams count
To feed the walk
Vain hopes and dreams
In the attic spaces of Fate.
Bandeirante without Flag
Go with a blunderbuss,
Trebuchet,
Machete
and
Scythe,
In the bag,
Hopes, and dreams
Ready to jump on
If a steed venture
Down into these woods.
Experienced Bandeirante
From the bamboo grove that lashes him
Cut a thin bamboo
Very straight;
The barbs he receives
Turns them into arrows
Which he covers
With the poisons he finds,
Take his blowgun.
Break branches;
From the best, sharpens the tip
If ammunition is short,
Better have a javelin
Since on native trails
Enough is
Kill a jaguar a day
Whether ammo or dexterity
Don’t miss it.
With confidence, not always
But always with friendly hands
Beats mighty rivers,
Refresh himself
Like waterfalls.
Jump here jump there,
Stumbling in roots.
Doesn’t even turnover:
Just get up.
Sweaty
Often unrestrained
Always have a hammock at hand
Where he has peace, dreams, rests
Lots of hammocks, so many hammocks,
Lovingly woven
By very dear hands
Never forgotten.
Lashed by canes
Tanned by heat and cold
Marked by the lashes
Dreams to open up another Entrada
With wrinkles and scars
Added
Proven evidence of life.