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Luiz Gonzaga

O CaçadorThe Hunter

Luiz Gonzaga · Luiz Gonzaga "Eu E Meu Pai" Luiz Gonzaga "Me and My Father" (1979)

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Composer: Luiz Gonzaga

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Translations are AI-generated and may contain inaccuracies — especially with Brazilian cultural expressions, regional slang, and short phrases, where it is hard for the AI to grasp the context. Still, we hope it helps you follow along with the music. If you spot something that could be improved, get in touch!

The English translation is below the Portuguese lyrics

Full lyrics

O Caçador

(Janduhy Finizola)


Tudo é começo

Madrugada, alvorecer

A vida inteira já começa a renascer

Mas que contraste

Faz um tiro de espingarda

Guarda incerteza

Malvadeza, que tristeza


É por certo um caçador

O das aves, matador

Que dormiu numa tocaia

A esperar que caia

Inocente a juriti

Pobrezinha nesta vida

Tão cedo pra bebida

Vuou, nunca mais voltou


Que sol bonito

Infinito é o viver

Quantas rolinhas,

ribançãns pra gente ver

Quase em segredo

Cantam um canto de arremedo

E logo um tiro

Tão certeiro, traiçoeiro


É por certo um caçador

Pra matar, arremedou

Rola-branca ou cascavel

Pra ele é mais troféu


Do que carne pra comer

Nem a miúda cafofa

Só tinha quase pena

Quanta pena ela deixou


Sol poente a Asa Branca

Vem também beber e vai morrer

Morre assim tanta beleza

Que Deus por natureza

Deixou lá no sertão ôô...


Foi pro certo um caçador

De caçar não se cansou

Mas, se assim continuar

Só resta pra matar

Atirar na solidão } bis

Translation

The Hunter

(Janduhy Finizola)


Everything is a beginning

Dawn, daybreak

Whole life already begins to be reborn

But what a contrast

A shotgun shot makes

It holds uncertainty

Wickedness, what sadness


It is certainly a hunter

The one of the birds, killer

Who slept in an ambush

Waiting for it to fall

Innocent the juriti

Poor little thing in this life

So early for consumption

It flew, never returned


What a beautiful sun

Infinite is living

How many rolinhas,

ribançãs for us to see

Almost in secret

They sing a mocking song

And then a shot

So accurate, treacherous


It is certainly a hunter

To kill, he mimicked

Rola-branca or rattlesnake

For him it's more a trophy


Than meat to eat

Not even the tiny fluffy one

It almost only had feathers

How much pity it left


Setting sun, the Asa Branca

Also comes to drink and will die

So much beauty dies like this

That God by nature

Left there in the sertão ôô...


It was certainly a hunter

He didn't get tired of hunting

But if he continues like this

Only remains to kill

To shoot at loneliness } bis

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