Na Hora do Almoço [English translation]

At the center of the room, before the table

On the bottom of the plate, food and sadness

We look at each other, we touch and we keep our silence

And we disagree from the moment we speak

Fear, fear, fear, fear, fear, fear...

Each one keeps their secret more and more locked up,

Your hand in a fist, your mouth open

Your heart deserts, your hand still

Sealed, closed tight

Wet with fear

Father at the head of the table: it is lunch time

My mother calls me: it is lunch time!

My younger sister, her long, dark hair

My grandma complains: it is lunch time!

(Hey, boy!)

I am still too young for all this sorrow,

Let's stop with all this and take care of our lives

Otherwise, death comes or something like that

And drag us still young and not having experienced much

Or something like that, or something like that

Or something like that, like that

Or something like that, or something like that

Or something like that, like that