Avançam máquinas por todo o espaço rural
A face endurecida do boia-fria, com um rasgo no lugar da boca
fecha os olhos com o peso da escravidão do trabalho
O suor se confunde com o óleo quente dos motores em suas mãos
Corpo esquecido, violado, expropriado em nome do agronegócio
A morte é como sorrir.
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Machines advancing through the fields
The petrified face of the rural worker with a cut in his mouth
Closing his eyes due to the weight of slavery
Sweat fused with burning oil from the engines
Bodies forgotten, violated and expropriated in the name of agrobusiness
Dying is like smiling.
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