Lyrics and translation André Teixeira - Veranero

Veranero

Recém a peonada levantou da sesta
Que as tarde são grande num mês veranero
A estiagem vem braba e os dia muy quente
E até a alma sente este sol de janeiro

Eguada na sombra a espera do arreio
Que o campo do meio requer mais cuidado
Terreno dobrado, com grota e macega
A mosca atropela e tem gado abichado
Terreno dobrado, com grota e macega
A mosca atropela e tem gado abichado

A manhã foi de muda, cambiamo os da encilha
Saíram às rosilhas e entraram as gateadas
De crina tosada e casquito aparado
Pra se adelgaçarem, posaram encerradas
De crina tosada e casquito aparado
Pra se adelgaçarem, posaram encerradas

É costume da estância, tropilhas de pelos
Tem moura, lobuna, baia e colorada
Nenhuma refuga, boi brabo e rio cheio
Levianas de freio e ligeiras de pata

O Firmino é quem doma e costeia de baixo
Paysano buenacho, dotor nesse ofício
Pelego do avesso, xergão sem carona
E um basto judiado de tanto serviço
Pelego do avesso, xergão sem carona
E um basto judiado de tanto serviço

O Juca só usa o preparo completo
Trançado de oito, peitera e rabicho
Aperta os beiçudo no meio da pança
Chega da uma ânsia de pena dos bicho
Aperta os beiçudo no meio da pança
Chega da uma ânsia de pena dos bicho

O cano virado da bota surrada
Arremango a bombacha em riba do joelho
O véio Florêncio andou se aposentando
Mas salta calando e ainda pega parelho
O véio Florêncio andou se aposentando
Mas salta calando e ainda pega parelho

O cano virado da bota surrada
Arremango a bombacha em riba do joelho
O véio Florêncio andou se aposentando
Mas salta calando e ainda pega parelho
O véio Florêncio andou se aposentando
Mas salta calando e ainda pega parelho

E ainda pega parelho, e ainda pega parelho
Y entonce se bamo com Deus e assim seja
Lá longe troveja e a tarde se achica
Na boca da noite um amargo escumado
E pra bóia um guisado, arroz e canjica
Na boca da noite um amargo escumado
E pra bóia um guisado, arroz e canjica
Na boca da noite um amargo escumado
E pra bóia um guisado, arroz e canjica

Veranero

The workers have just risen from their siesta,
For the afternoons are long in a summer month.
The drought is coming strong, and the days are very hot,
And even the soul feels this January sun.

The herd in the shade, awaiting the harness,
For the middle field requires more care.
A folded terrain, with grotto and macega,
The fly harasses, and there's cattle huddled.
A folded terrain, with grotto and macega,
The fly harasses, and there's cattle huddled.

The morning was for changing, we changed the saddle horses,
The roans went out, and the bays came in.
With trimmed mane and trimmed hooves,
To slim down, they were put in the corral.
With trimmed mane and trimmed hooves,
To slim down, they were put in the corral.

It is the custom of the ranch, herds of hair,
There is dark, wolf, bay and colored.
None refuse, brave bull and full river,
Light on the reins and light on their feet.

Firmino is the one who tames and rides low,
Good fellow countryman, doctor in this trade.
Sheepskin inside out, saddle blanket without a blanket,
And a battered saddle from so much service.
Sheepskin inside out, saddle blanket without a blanket,
And a battered saddle from so much service.

Juca only uses the complete preparation,
Eight-braid, breastplate and tailpiece.
He squeezes the muzzles in the middle of the belly,
It almost gives you a feeling of pity for the animals.
He squeezes the muzzles in the middle of the belly,
It almost gives you a feeling of pity for the animals.

The turned-up barrel of the worn boot,
The rolled-up bombachas above the knee.
Old Florêncio went into retirement,
But he jumps up silently and still catches a match.
Old Florêncio went into retirement,
But he jumps up silently and still catches a match.

The turned-up barrel of the worn boot,
The rolled-up bombachas above the knee.
Old Florêncio went into retirement,
But he jumps up silently and still catches a match.
Old Florêncio went into retirement,
But he jumps up silently and still catches a match.

And he still catches a match, and he still catches a match.
And so we go with God, and so be it.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the afternoon shrinks.
At the mouth of the night, a bitter foam,
And for dinner, a stew, rice and hominy.
At the mouth of the night, a bitter foam,
And for dinner, a stew, rice and hominy.
At the mouth of the night, a bitter foam,
And for dinner, a stew, rice and hominy.