The forest is sad today.
Today the rivers are drying
Birds do not sing anymore,
They only know how to cry.
The sky bleeds
And the butterflies fly away
In my village, the children burn in fever
And they burn, even the pajé’s breath
we are survivors, we need to live
We are the cry of the forest
We are the fish, climbing upstream
We are the flock of macaws, at sunset
We are the children of this land
The forest is ours; we are the forest.