Paroles et traduction César Oliveira - Romaria Dos Pirilâmpos

Romaria Dos Pirilâmpos

Sempre que morre um campeiro uma flor brota do chão
Do fundo da escuridão, surge uma luz fogoneira
É um gaúcho que renasce no facho de um pirilampo
Coloreando o breu dos campos com sua aura campeira
Coloreando o breu dos campos com sua aura campeira

Quando a tarde ferra o sono no colo das sesmarias
Eles saem em romaria recorrendo as invernadas
Velando a paz das ovelhas e serpenteando entre o gado
Vão imitando o bailado dos aguapés, nas aguadas

(Nem a lua sai do quarto quando acendem-se os candieiros
Dos gaudérios pirilampos
Pra que as almas dos campeiros, sarandeiem pelos campos) Bis

Quem pensa que a vida acaba se engana no pensamento
Pois a morte é um nascimento de uma nova existência
E os que jazem campereando, entregam o corpo pra o campo
E a alma à um pirilampo, pra iluminar a querência
E a alma à um pirilampo, pra iluminar a querência

Quem nasce pra ser gaúcho e cavalgar pelo pampa
Jamais se prende a uma campa nem se acostuma no chão
E após o pealo divino retornará, com certeza
A sarandear, de alma acesa, pelos confins do rincão
Pra que as almas dos campeiros, sarandeiem pelos campos

Firefly Pilgrimage

Whenever a gaucho dies, a flower sprouts from the ground
From the depths of the darkness, a campfire light emerges
It is a gaucho who is reborn in a firefly's flame
Coloring the darkness of the fields with its gaucho aura
Coloring the darkness of the fields with its gaucho aura

When the afternoon sleeps on the lap of the ranches
They go on a pilgrimage, visiting the winter pastures
Watching over the sheep and meandering among the cattle
They imitate the dance of the water lilies in the watering holes

(Even the moon does not leave its room when the candles are lit
Of the firefly gauchos
So that the souls of the gauchos may wander through the fields) Chorus

He who thinks that life ends is mistaken in his thinking
For death is a birth into a new existence
And those who lie in the field, give their bodies to the countryside
And their souls to a firefly, to light up the home
And their souls to a firefly, to light up the home

He who is born to be a gaucho and ride through the pampa
Will never be confined to a grave, nor will he get used to the ground
And after the divine lassoing, he will return, for sure
To wander, with burning soul, through the confines of the rincón
So that the souls of the gauchos may wander through the fields