Jangadeiros on the sand

Flavio Musa de Freitas Guimarães
2 min readNov 22, 2021


Fishermen that uses jangadas

Photo by Mar Sem Fim

Night falls as if it were late afternoon

It is the end of Summer vacation here in Brazil.

In-mast furling, muffle sails,

Pack up junk,

Lift irons.

Set sail, sucked, pushing their jangadas[1],

Heavier on the soft sand.

If the weather is bad,

Happy to be home early,

Sad, because the fishing was shallow.

On the contrary of lovers,

They arrive at dawn, leave at night.

They bought baits the day before

Each as defeat and prey

Meats, sausages, Viennese sausages,

Wheat or cassava flour,

Coconuts, corn, ice,

Soft drinks, hard drinks, sweets…

They provided their lunches

For the long streak.

There they go pulling, pushing, their boats

Only one if the ship is light,

Captain and crew in heavy crafts.

Dawning, beacons in a row,

Bear away, run aground.

Raise masts, stay if necessary,

Fix cordage,

Hoist cloths, streamers, and pennants.

Ready their hooks, lines, or nets

Boast their baits.

Light pirogues along the beach border

They broaden out, sail alongshore,

According to favourable winds.

Sympathy and services, also baits,

Hook, hunt, fish,


In drizzle or burning sun

In uniform and nautical vests.

Sailors help each other,

Give scoop,

Bosses give hints to the crew.

Their fangs, alien to their toil

Of them they use,

Call, demand,

Lolled in the sand

Or hovering, gliding in coastal shippings

Back to sand, they call jangadeiros,

Tanning in the sun

Or protected by their little genoes.

Served well, they chat, eat,

Drink, nap,

Or pensive, self-absorbed

Enjoy so much beauty.

Long day.

Jangadeiros, missions accomplished,

In-mast furling, muffle sails,

Pack up junk,

Lift irons.

Set sail

Tired out,

Pushing, pulling, their jangadas

Heavier on soft sand

It is my people, my kind,

Good, strength, simple folk,

Believer, in God on waiting.

Tomorrow, God permitting,

The same again.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jangada



Flavio Musa de Freitas Guimarães

Already watching the eighty-eight turn of the Earth in curtsy around its King, I’m an engineer that became a writer, happy, in perfect health, body and mind.