## I. INTRODUCTION It's a bush fruit!" a voice proclaims. And a chorus answers: "Borzeguim, leave the foothills in the wind and come dance!"[^1]. Thus begins one of Tom Jobim's most important songs: "Borzeguim", a masterpiece of Brazilian popular music. Written in 1981 and included in the 1987 LP Passarim, produced by Tom Jobim and performed by himself and the unique Banda Nova, the song[^2] comes at a time when ecological and environmental awareness was growing in Brazil, an awareness evident in Jobim's work since the early 1970s. The entire album is a landmark in Brazilian music history. The result of the composer's artistic maturity, the songs on the album, including "Borzeguim," reveal his post-Bossa Nova phase, with a strong focus on themes like Brazilian identity, nature, folklore, connections with literature, especially Guimarães Rosa, a phenomenon that some Brazilian intellectuals like Mário de Andrade and Antonio Candido and artists like Ivan Lins and Mônia Salmaso call "o Brasil Profundo" (the Deep Brazil). Going beyond the aesthetics of bossa nova that the maestro had helped to create and consolidate, "Borzeguim" brings the impressive freshness of a different musical conception, committed to the cause of preserving Brazil's forests, especially the Atlantic Rainforest, for which Jobim became the greatest spokesman. As he himself said in an interview: "all my work is inspired by the Atlantic Forest" (Jobim & Jobim, 2001). Indeed, Jobim's song is the voice of the Atlantic Forest. This is evident in the arrangement of the music, in the sound and percussive effects of bird songs, winds, flutes, and strings. The beginning of the song may confuse some listeners. Although the song refers to "curumim" (boy, child), the voice of the song is not addressing the little curumim, but the owner of the "borzeguins". And what does "borzeguim" mean? Borzeguim is the boot that the settler uses to enter the forest to hunt, to cut down a tree, or to make a fire. In the words of André Haudenschild, "borzeguim" should be understood as a metonymy to designate the 'hunter' himself, who is being warned to get out of his own way and 'come and dance' the ritual established by the song\[^3\](2010, p. 77-78, my translation). Borzeguim is also used to designate the boot of the soldier, the boot of the adventurous explorer, the fearless "bandeirante", and in this case the unsuspecting traveller. The voice of the song addresses the colonizers who are destroying the Atlantic Forest in their insatiable desire for exploitation, domination, possession, and profit. That's why it is so urgent for those who want to stop this destructive rampage and usher in a different, happier, more beautiful, more fertile time. This challenge is not easy, given the violence with which the destruction is taking place. In any case, the song doesn't celebrate the boot that treads on the ground, but the foot of someone who takes off his sandals, knowing that he is treading on holy ground. It is the bare feet, in contact with the sand of the ground, capable of connecting the being to nature, to the forest, to the wild and sacred space, reminding us that the boot is not only that of the solitary individual, but of the entire exploitative and colonial culture. Based on José Miguel Wisnik's proposition that popular songs are a way of thinking about the world, and therefore a kind of "Gay Science", in the original Nietzschean sense of the term, this essay aims to analyze the song "Borzeguim" by Antonio Carlos Jobim in order to understand its potential for developing ecological sensitivity. The essay focuses on the analysis of the lyrics, but also draws attention to interesting aspects of the song's rhythm and music. As a theoretical reference, I use the proposals of José Miguel Wisnik and Luiz Tatit, as well as the contributions of critics of Jobim's work, such as the scholar André Rocha L. Haudenschild. The main thesis I try to defend is that Jobim's songs have points of connection with concrete poetry and elements of popular culture (indigenous mythology and folk popular religion). "Borzeguim" is Jobim's way of thinking about the world through the lens of the imagination. It is a warning and a lament for these times of environmental crisis. ## II. THE GAY SCIENCE For Nietzsche, the song as gay science is characterized by an unprecedented, striking joy and innocence. Wisnik goes further and sees in the song a crossing between what he calls "cultured quotation and lyrical fluency, density and transparency, philosophy and parodic sense, a hundred times refined innocence"4 (2021, p. 29), obvious characteristics of Jobim's song, as if the song were a bridge between so-called high culture and popular culture, a separation that no longer exists and that Jobim always confronted. So it is with the cello and the guitar, the piano and the percussion in "Borzeguim". In terms of general structure, the song is divided into two parts: a first cycle that is completed halfway through and ends with the verses of exorcism that says: "Get out of here Evil thing/Go away soon/Go away/In the name of God"5, to be taken up by the second cycle that, like the previous one, begins with the cry: "It's a fruit from the bush!", as if it were a warning, a cry. Between the two parts there is a short rhythmic pause, a breath to the pulse of the piano. The rhythmic movement continues unabated and becomes even more pronounced in the second part, in the continuous repetition of a motif: "Let the bush grow in peace"6 (Jobim, 1987). The rhythm of the song suggests an indigenous ancestry, a register that recalls Villa-Lobos's exploration of the Amazon. Flute, piano and percussion take the place of the strings. Bass and cello interact with the narrative. The song testifies to and denounces an act of violence against the Brazilian forest and all the creatures that live there. At the same time, the song is a ballet and an invitation to dance, to a dynamic interaction, to an aesthetic and spiritual experience with nature. And one of the first arguments of the voice of the song is of the sacred order: "Today is Passion Friday, Good Friday"7, a holy day, as every day is holy. Another aspect that recalls the indigenous sound is the tonal centrality of the Gm7 chord around which the song revolves. The insistent repetition of the chord creates a pedal effect and has an enchanting, enveloping power, like a tribe in a circular dance around a bonfire. Harmonically, Jobim seems to abandon tonal variation in favor of a more modal effect. The melody is built around this insistent chord, which doesn't follow the functional tonal routes. This harmonic concentration and the obstinate rhythm of the indigenous matrix seem to consolidate the music as coming from the forest, evoking this primordial paradisiacal environment of Brazil. The rhythmic effect and the reference to the forest are even more evident in the version of "Borzeguim" recorded by the Quarteto em Cy on the LP Caminhos Cruzados (1981), with the participation of Tom and Paulo Jobim and the group Boca Libre. There, the male vocalization in the background suggests an indigenous intonation, in quaternary time, with an accent on the first bar. Considering that, it is possible to draw a parallel between Villa-Lobos' passion for the Amazon (embedded in Brazilian culture) and Jobim's devotion to the Atlantic Forest. When the first phrase of the song is announced – "É fruta do mato" (It's fruit from the bush!) – a pleasant, tasty, pure and original wilderness setting is constructed, which is threatened and defended at the same time throughout the song. The list of animals that appear in the lyrics is long and reveals an impressive diversity: armadillo, capybara, tapir, bird, jacu, teiu lizard, uirassu, hawk, cutucurim, jaguar, fishes..., as well as supernatural beings such as the Caapora, the guardian of the forest, a series of beings that form an ecosystem of pulsating life. And in this way, Jobim "is also able to express the telluric power of the Atlantic Forest and its animals (as we will see in his songs after the Bossa Nova movement)"9 (Haudenschild, 2010, p. 68). The song is an exercise in repetition and reformulation in both melody and lyrics. There is a theme revealed right at the beginning of the song, in the first few bars, right after the opening: "Borzeguim, leave the foothills to the wind and come dance", a rhythmic melodic sequence "Today is Friday morning...", which is then exhaustively repeated or taken up again in its multiple variations (Jobim, 1987). As Túlio Ceci Villaça observes, "Borzeguim is about a single descending melodic phrase, repeated, explored, abbreviated, finalized for the treble, for the bass, not finalized, deconstructed and reconstructed to exhaustion"10 (2011). For this author, "[...] Borzeguim [brings] loose ramblings about nature and appeals for conservation, untethered from each other – or rather, tied together by the almost obsessive repetition of the theme..."11. For Villaça, what gives the song unity is not the lyrics themselves, which he finds scattered, nor the melody, which he finds too concentrated, but the harmony. He believes that "what Tom does is, in a way, the opposite of the expanded song as conceived by José Miguel Wisnik and Arthur Nestrovski"12, which Villaça calls "the tattered song". Villaça explains the meaning of the term: "[...] if the structure of a song is strong enough to support the narrative, it is also comparable to a weave or a fabric that has its elasticity and flexibility. And sometimes this structure is frayed close to its limit"13 (2011). For Villaça, it is the harmony that maintains the unity of the song, rather than the narrative outlined in the lyrics, which he finds somewhat vague and unstable. I share José Miguel Wisnik's understanding of song as a form of intuitive, popular knowledge of reality, a way of doing science, a "Gay Science," that is, a joyful science. It is the joyful thinking, "in light" (Lacerda, 2021, p. 10). As Lacerda comments, [...] Brazilian popular song would be one of the historical forms of realizing Gay Science, or, in the words of the author [Wisnik], a musical-poetic knowledge made up of a dense, diffuse sentimental education, with vigorous creation and singularity, both in artistic language and as a form of thought, in its singular profound lightness.\[^14\](p. 11, my translation) And in this sense, the song would be what we have best in our Brazilian culture. Especially in "Borzeguim" we have a connection to a deep, still wild Brazil, very different from what he sang about during the Bossa Nova phase, and without the dreams of tropical modernity. ## III. "BORZEGUIM": A DIALOGICAL SONG One of the striking elements of Brazilian popular music in general, and Jobim's songs in particular, is the allusion to literature and other elements of culture. These connections with Brazilian poetry and literature are present to some extent in "Borzeguim," such as the repetitive and insistent form of concrete poetry, as in the verses that say: "Leave the Indian alive in the wild/Leave the Indian alive naked/Leave the Indian alive/Leave the Indian/Leave him!"\[^15\](Jobim, 1987), which, in addition to repeating the warning of the risk of loss, visually and sonically express the disappearance of the indigenous peoples, of this original theme that disappears with each repetition, like the forest, like the bush that grows to be cut down. The shortening of the verses suggests an emptying, a reduction or a concentration on the essential: "Let it go!" or "Listen!". André Haudenschild sees in the verses "Cutucurim/Gavião-zão/Gavião-ão" an echo of Guimarães Rosa's sonic and environmental universe, and this would be another connection with literature, without forgetting that the sonority of "ão" is what is most unique about our Portuguese language. Yauaretê, who appears in the song, is also, according to Haudenschild (2010), another reference to the work of Guimarães Rosa, who published a short story entitled "Meu tio o Yauaretê" (My Uncle, the Yauaretê, a Tupi word meaning "the cascade of the jaguar") (2013). Borzeguim" also makes references to popular culture, such as the belief in the famous apocalyptic prophecy that "the desert will turn into a sea, and the sea will turn into a desert $^{16}$, a phrase uttered by the mystical rebell Antonio Conselheiro at the end of the 19th century, a direct reference to doomsday, the destruction and the re-creation of all things. And, of course, a direct reference to Brazilian culture, especially in the Northeast. Jobim wasn't just "Brazilian" in name, his father was from Rio Grande do Sul and his mother was of northeastern and indigenous descent. He brought Brazil with him. Another important element that dialogues with the rhythm of the song are the references to the inhabitants of the forest, the "curumins", the Indian women and the indigenous people of Brazil. The forest is not an uninhabited place. Indigenous people have lived there for thousands of years. It is not a place beyond the boundaries of culture. It is a place cultivated by different indigenous cultures. Indigenous mythology is also present through the figure of Caapora, the guardian of the forest. All these things are also an indication of the dialogical dimension between the author and the people, which Paolo Sarnechis refers to and which he calls the "dialogical field" (apud Wisnik, 2021). This is what we see in "Borzeguim", a desire to talk to the people about the environmental disaster that was rampant at the time (and much more so today). The singer talks to his people about the challenges of his time, the great event of this end of the century and millennium, the environmental crisis that is approaching, capable of seeing the total inversion of land and sea, desert and forest, city and emptiness. The point of the song is to emphasize the urgency of the moment and the need for the Borzeguim persona to take action, to dance the dance of the wind and the bush, to contemplate the green life around them, to leave the bush alone or to leave it once and for all. Those who think that Tom Jobim's music is only about Copacabana and Ipanema are wrong. Remembering Luiz Tatit's approach to song analysis, we can see how the speaking voice blends with the singing voice, starting from the first line of the song and continuing until the end. As a whole, the song is characterized by intonation, by the rhythmic force of speech that dramatizes the moment (Wisnik, 2021). Wisnik demonstrates the tension between intonation and passion in Brazilian song. In this case, "Borzeguim" produces the perfect balance between the two forces. At the same time that it doesn't abandon the rhythm, and therefore the thematic element, even though it has important pauses, it has very clear moments of passion, in which the notes of the melody are prolonged and sustained, indicating a passion, a paroxysm of suffering and anguish expressed in the statement: "In the name of God!" $^{17}$ (Jobim, 1987). It's a short moment, an interval, but significant and important to set up the interruption in the flow of the rhythm. The song, then, is that third thing that is neither speech nor melody in itself, it is an intersection. "In other words, song is not a genre, but a class of language that coexists with music, literature, the visual arts, comics, dance, etc."18 (Tati, 2022, p. 138, my translation). The prosody of the verses and the intonation of the melody confirm the figurative nature of the song – as if the voice were there at that very moment, in dialogue with the audience listening to the song. What we have is not the happiness of Bossa nova or the melancholy of country or "caipira" music (folk music), but the anxious dance of the warrior or the trees moved by the wind in a type of song that has its roots in the depths of Amerindians or perhaps Afro-American music. If there is power, it is the power of beauty and the vital forces of nature. If there is desire, it is the desire to preserve life, the desire to celebrate. Jobim's song seems to visit the three types of melodic variants of the song: the thematic, with its short notes, its rhythmic consonant sounds; the passionate, with its longer vowels and its expansions of emotion; and also the figurative, with its dramatization of dialogue, as if the voice of the song were addressing the listener at the very moment the song is presented. This is the power of the song as a repetitive force, a force of speech, a message that is carried. As Tatit warns us, "[...] what ensures the suitability of melodies and texts and the effectiveness of their inflections is the entonational base"19 (2022, p. 24). The lyrical voice appeals to common sense, to reason, which is absent in the twisted rationality of the owner of the borzeguim. It invokes the name of God, appeals to faith, so that the people of the forest may be spared, so that the capybara, the tapir and the armadillo may be left in peace. The voice invokes the festival, the sacred, but in the end it foretells the doom, the fire in the forest, the end of the sea and the desert, and tries to exorcise the Evil: "Get out of here, evil thing/Get out soon/Get out/In the name of God" (Jobim, 1987). "Borzeguim" thus becomes a call for collective environmental consciousness. The song recognizes the need for the sacred, the notion of the mythological narrative as a way to preserve the environment. The forest is seen as a sanctuary of life, beauty and power, as untouchable, as inhabited by sentient and mythical people and beings. As if there were a thread connecting it directly to God. In Jobim's song, the borzeguim corresponds to the destructive power of the colonizer, who wants to eradicate the forest and dominate, civilize the sertão. In a way, the song can be seen as an attempt by the persona, the lyrical self (the choir, the collective of the song), to interrupt the destructive process initiated by the borzeguim. How does it do this? By inviting us to dance, by inviting us to the celebration of the sacred (on Good Friday), by inviting us to listen sensitively, to respect others, by exorcising them, by invoking the myths of the sertanejos and the indigenous peoples, by warning us of the end of the world, of the "fall of the sky," as Kopenhawa (2015) might have said, to perhaps "postpone the end of the world," as Krenak (2019) would say. ## IV. ENVIRONMENTAL AWARENESS What can popular songs do to raise people's environmental awareness, especially in educational contexts? According to Kate Turner and Bill Freedman (2004), songs can do many things. They can help inform students through the ideas embedded in the lyrics, they can enhance people's perception of values about the natural world through the musical sounds present in nature (2004). For Doug Ramsey (2002), songs can have a great impact in educational contexts to problematize issues related to the environment. He cites popular musicians from the Canadian plains in the 1930s and songs that became popular during the cod fishing crisis after the 1992 moratorium. More than just informing, songs can offer listeners an aesthetic experience that raises awareness of the natural world, of the risks facing fish, forests, animals, birds, forest creatures, life, in short. For the author, music has two main roles in terms of its impact on culture and education: 1) it provides, through lyrics, informative material for analysis, "source of geographic or historic evidence" (2002, p. 184), a concept he develops from J.R. Curtis (1994) in his study of Woody Guthrie's music and the Sandstorm Crisis of the 1930s; 2) to attract and hold the attention of students. However, these two aspects seem very small in relation to the song's potential to sensitize, move, build empathy, and help form the listener's critical consciousness. As we have already noted, environmental awareness does not arise from the mere transmission of information or the presentation of abundant statistical data, however important they may be for the development of research and the improvement of educational practices. Awareness arises from people's experience of nature in the context of their own culture. And popular song, like other artistic and cultural languages, offers an imaginative and aesthetic experience with the potential to change people's perceptions of reality. Experience increases knowledge and, according to Jorge Larrosa, it is that which passes us by, that which happens to us, that which leaves a trace in us, that which cannot be planned, but which happens in a more spontaneous and unique way (Larrosa, 2021). Listening to a song, enjoying a poem, watching a piece of music or a dance are all ways of having an aesthetic experience, which is a unique way of signifying and getting to know that which is beyond us, which is different from what we already are, that is, from the same, and which has the power to cross us and move us towards the world that surrounds us and the people we meet. According to Larrosa, experience shapes and transforms subjects because the subject is not immune to what happens to him at this personal and profound level and ends up becoming something else: "It is therefore a matter of an open, sensitive, vulnerable 'ex/post' subject"20 (Larrosa, 2011, p. 7), a subject ready to transform himself through the my translation that happens because of this 'ex/position". The author also mentions that "the knowledge of experience is a particular, subjective, relative, contingent, personal knowledge. If experience is not what happens but what happens to us, then two people, even if they are confronted with the same event, do not have the same experience"21 (Larrosa, 2021, p. 32). Art allows for the singularity of aesthetic my translation, even if, as in the case of a popular song reproduced for mass dissemination, the vehicle through which this experience takes place is common to thousands of people. Each listener will have his own perception, his own encounter with the sound waves, rhythms, and words of the song, and that will be his experience, even if he is in a packed stadium or concert hall surrounded by other people. It's everyone's experience. I repeat: this aesthetic and transformative experience of the song "Borzeguim" increases its power to awaken environmental consciousness. The song achieves this consciousness-raising power by opposing the colonizing force that threatens to destroy the Atlantic Forest, and indeed all Brazilian ecosystems. The song's strength lies in its critical attitude towards the destructive process of modernity. If it were a hymn extolling the civilizing action of progress, it wouldn't have the same consciousness-raising and critical effect. It's worth remembering Larrosa's observations on the formative and influential nature of experience: It requires us to stop to think, to stop to look, to stop and listen, to think more slowly, to look more slowly, to listen more slowly; to stop to feel, to feel more slowly, to linger on details, to suspend the automatism of action, to cultivate attentiveness and delicacy, to open our eyes and ears, to talk about what is happening to us, to learn slowness and to listen to others, to cultivate the art of encounter, to be very quiet, to have patience, and to give ourselves time and space. (Larrosa, 2021, p. 25) $^{22}$ Art helps us to get out of the automatism of everyday life and the performances internalized in the world of capital and modernity. This perspective is fully in line with what the indigenous thinker Ailton Krenak says: Life is so wonderful that our minds try to give it functionality, but this makes no sense. Life is pleasure, it's a dance, only it's a cosmic dance, and we want to reduce it to a ridiculous, utilitarian choreography. A biography: someone was born, did this, did that, grew up, founded a city, invented Fordism, made the revolution, built a rocket, went into space; it's all a ridiculous little story. Why do we insist on turning life into something useful? We need to have the courage to be radically alive and not negotiate for survival. If we continue to eat the planet, we'll all survive just one more day. (Krenak, 2020, p. 108-109) $^{23}$ The song my translation by Jobim sets its counterpoint to the destructive movements of progress, as if to say, 33 years before Krenak, that life is not useful, it is not a means to an end, be it financial, political or ideological. Life is a unique experience and, in this radical sense, sacred. That's why songs like Jobim's must circulate more in the educational, cultural and social spaces of the contemporary world. Art and education cannot be commodities for consumption. Their strength lies in refusing this role, in resisting this imposition. The great power of the song "Borzeguim" is that it warns of the imminent destruction of the natural environment, a critique of the colonial and exploitative mentality that sees nature as nothing more than a resource for investment, extraction, and economic profitability, and human beings as nothing more than labor. On the one hand, the song raises awareness of the violence that this destructive act inaugurates in society; on the other hand, it brings the possibility of thinking about another life, another way of dealing with the world, another way of dealing with the indigenous peoples, the inhabitants of the forest, another way of celebrating life, contact with the ground, the wind, the sun, the trees, the forces of nature. Tom Jobim's work is also of interest to the field of ecomusicology, particularly his work focused on the Amazon and Atlantic rainforests. "In ecomusicology, the environment is portrayed as essential to understanding music: environments inspire music compositions and environmentalists use musics in their activism" (Shevock, 2017, p. 16). More than information, Jobim's song offers experience. More than conservation of natural resources, affection and care. More than environment, interconnected life, habitat. More than a resource, it is a source of encouragement and spiritual renewal for people and communities close to the forest. The song also nourishes the dream of a possible utopia, a "untested feasibility," as Paulo Freire (2014) would say, although the song also warns of the real threat of the destruction of the planet. ## V. FINAL CONSIDERATIONS In fact, art, in its non-immediate usefulness, can do much to share what is priceless: "Love. Friendship. Conviviality. The joy of a goal. The party. Drunkenness. Poetry. Rebellion. States of grace..." (Huff, 2023, p. 314, my translation).[^24] Commenting on Rubem Alves' phrase that "poetry is dance; prose is marching," Arnaldo Huff says: "If the rationality of prose fears stumbles and falls, it prefers to march; for those who dance, stumbles and falls are risks that one runs around beauty" (Huff, 2023, p. 316, my translation).[^25] And this is the great invitation of Jobim's song: "Come and dance!" In this human and powerful context of art, Adélia Prado's statement makes even more sense: "Poetry will save me!" (2010, p. 59).[^26] Without wanting to mystify the place of art in culture and society, as if it were above everything else, I would like to say that it plays an important role in opposing control and imprisonment precisely because of its autonomy, its uselessness, its singularity. In an unpretentious and light-hearted way, art questions power, questions the present, makes you think, makes you know, makes you dance. If it is true, as Bruno Kiefer states, that "every language has its own melodic-embryonic structure. Therefore, the germ of a music that expresses the soul of the people already exists in it"27 (apud Tati, 2022, p. 52), then Jobim's song speaks the language of Brazil and of the nature in which Brazil was created, which is now in danger of ending. "Borzeguim" has never been more relevant, and it has never been more urgent to hear a song in Brazil, now that we no longer have the Atlantic Forest and are on the verge of losing the Amazon Rainforest, the Cerrado and the Pantanal. Let's listen to the voice that reaches us through "Borzeguim". Let's listen to the voice of Jobim, Krenak and Kopenawa. Let's listen to the voice of the forest in its inexpressible groans. At the end of this essay, I would like to recall some indigenous voices, first of all that of Ailton Krenak, when he says that "I like many songs that explicitly speak of 'Indian', but Borzeguim by Tom Jobim is my favorite"\[^28\](Líder, 2013). Also Daniel Munduruku, when he exclaims in an interview: "Think of Brazil as an indigenous person thinks of the world: a web where every thread is important"[^29](2021). And finally, that of Davi Kopenawa: "I think you should dream of the Earth, because it has a heart and it breathes"\[^30\](2015, p. 468). ## APPENDIX Borzeguim (Tom Jobim) It's a bush fruit Borzeguim, leave the foothills to the wind And come dance And come dance Today is Friday morning Today is Friday Let the forest grow in peace Let the forest grow Let the forest grow I don't want fire, I want water (Let the forest grow in peace) I don't want fire, I want water (Let the forest grow) Today is Passion Friday, Good Friday Every day is a day of forgiveness Every day is a holy day Every holy day Ah, and there comes John, and there comes Mary Every day is a day of celebration Ah, and there comes John, and there comes Mary Every day is a day The ground on the ground (Let the forest grow in peace) The foot on the stone (Let the forest grow in peace) The foot in the sky Leave the armadillo in his place Let the capybara cross the stream Let the tapir cross the stream Let the Indian live in the forest Let the Indian live naked Let the Indian live Let the Indian (It's a fruit from the bush) Listen to the forest grow in peace (It's fruit from the bush) Listen to the forest grow Listen to the forest Listen (Listen) Listen to the wind sing in the trees Birds will fly like birds Let the Indian woman raise her curumim Get out of here evil thing Get out soon Get out In the name of God It's a bush fruit Borzeguim leave the foothills to the wind And come dance And come dance The jacú is already old in the fruit bowl The teiu lizard is on the threshold Uirassu went to revisit the mountain range. The great hawk is an animal without borders Cutucurim (Cutucurim) Gavião (Zão) Gavião (Ao) Caapora do mato is captain He owns the forest and the forest Caapora do mato is guardian (Jaguareté) He watches over the forest and the wild Leave the jaguar alive in the forest Leave the fish in the water, it's a party. Leave the Indian alive Leave the Indian Leave (Leave) They say the desert will turn into the sea (They say the sea will turn into a desert) Leave the Indian Leave the Indian Leave the Indian, Leave him [a free translation] [^1]: In Portuguese: "É fruta do mato/Borzeguim, deixa as fraldas ao vento /E vem dançar". _(p.1)_ [^2]: Here you can read the lyrics and listen to the song: https://www.tomjobim.com.ar/p/borzeguim-letra-musica-video.html. Here is the score: https://www.jobim.org/jobim/handle/2010/3804 _(p.1)_ [^3]: In Portuguese: "[...] 'borzeguim' delve ser sentido como uma metonímia para designar oproprio 'caçador' que está sento avisado para sair de seu proprietary caminho, e para 'vir fazer' o ritual instaurado pela canção" _(p.2)_ [^14]: In Portuguese: "[...] a cançao popular brasileira seria uma das forma historicas de realizacao da Gaia Ciência, ou no dizer do autor, um saber poético-musical constituicao atraves de uma densaeducatedao sentimental difusa, comcriacao vigorosa e singularidade, tanto como linguagem artística quando como forma de pensamento, em sua singular leveza profunda". _(p.4)_ [^15]: In Portuguese: "Deixa oindle vivo no sértão / Deixa oindle vivo nu / Deixa oindle vivo / Deixa oindle". _(p.4)_ [^24]: "O amor. A amizade. O convivio. O jubilo do gol. A festa. A embriaguez. A poesia. A rebeldia. Os estados degra..."(Huff, 2023, p. 314). _(p.7)_ [^25]: "Se a razionalidade da prosa teme os tropeços e os Tombos, preferindo a marcha; para quem dança, tropeços e tumbos são ricos que se correço ao redor da beleza" (Huff, 2023, p. 316). _(p.7)_ [^26]: "A poesia me salvará!" (2010, p. 59). _(p.7)_ [^28]: "Muitas música que falamexplicitamente de 'indio'me agradam, mas Borzeguim do Tom Jobim é minha preferida" (Líder, 2013). _(p.7)_ [^29]: "Pense o Brasil como um indígena pensa o mundo: uma teia sobre cada fio é importante" (2021). _(p.7)_ [^30]: "Acho que vocês deveriam sonhar a Terra,驻村, para a respira" (2015, p. 468). _(p.7)_

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