Air, flavor of the countryside, fill my mind with song,
Sky, close to one, when the night calls to the sun
They dress their flavor with stone,
They let you forget the heat,
Monotonies of the city, so distant,
so frustrating,
I take new sips of this room without doors,
Torrid waters run almost as cold as you,
And the white sand breaks the green-blue gap,
Chorus (bis)

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