The Little Anteater

 

 

poem by Ruth Salles

It's a secret for you:
the indians didn't even know how to dance
let alone sing;
played fight
if they wanted to celebrate.

But one day, around
of an old and tall pine tree
turn sticks upright
, moving and jumping.

They rotated, dispersed,
they met again
and as they danced,
various sounds emitted:

Emi in the tin, see, eh, eh
Andô chô caê fly
Haha ha
Emi in the tin, see, eh, eh.

All this the cairucres
learned at once
and, on sticks holding,
were dancing and singing.

And they made instruments:
the horn was khaki
and, the flute called coke,
maraca was xií,
and rattle, otorerê.

But who will teach?
singing and dancing to the sticks?
And the cairucres, like this,
hidden peeked…

And, by the pine tree, they found
the baby anteater,
called cacrequin.
And he danced around
and sang without any fear!
He was the teacher.
The secret has been revealed.

And the baby anteater,
called cacrequin,
for your wisdom,
that comes from antiquity,
is the father of humanity,
say the cairucres.
It's a secret for you!

 

 

***