Brazil land of many peoples,
In many segregations,
Aches and lamentations echoed,
And echo in this massive ground.
Indians and Black stripped of their dignity;
They were kings and queens in their villages,
That ignorance of the strength ...
They became slaves of Ideology.
By virtue of their work,
Built this country.
But still today,
You hear people say black is not,
Indian bug is the unknown.
Here is our call,
In Brazil a more just and fraternal.
That all people from many continents,
Who migrated here and urged,
If respect and avoid indifference,
Forming a living and true equality.
Brazil's Indian mother earth;
Negro slave quarters.
The immigrant Portuguese, Italian, German and more ...
Brazil cradle of many "cultures"
Motherland "Loved by us all."
I saw an old book from my father and I saw that many Brazilians love this poem
Idk why I write this...only to you see....
