On April 19, Brazilians celebrate the Indian Day, date stipulated in 1940 as a tribute to the First Inter-American Indigenous Congress. The purpose of the event was to bring together indigenous leaders from different nations in order to protect their rights. In Brazil, the date was made official on June 2, 1943 by Decree Law n. 5.540.
The Indians were the first inhabitants of our country and were already around here when the Portuguese ships arrived in 1500. Despite their extreme importance and contribution to our culture, indigenous peoples have been disrespected and their populations reduced.
Hence the importance of celebrating this date in schools, in order to preserve and enhance their culture. For this reason, several institutions plan celebrations aimed specifically at the Indians. Among them, there are collages, paintings, dramatizations, making handicrafts and reading poems.
To contribute to your celebration, we brought several poems for the Indian Day that can be taken to the classroom!
Index
- The life of the Indian – Edmar Batista de Souza (Itohã Pataxó)
- Land Owners – Daniela Valadares Aleixo
- Bird that is not a bird – Carmem Teresa Elias and Beatriz Ribeiro
- Party at Taba – Benedito Gomes Rodrigues
- Speaking of Indian – Ana Lucia Souza Cruz
- Traditional Pankararu Poems – Kaciane Monteiro and Eriane Maria
- Indian Day – W. Marques
- Destruction – Francinaldo Gûyraguasu – Potiguara from Akajutibiró Village/PB
- The life of the Indian – Edmar Batista de Souza (Itohã Pataxó)
- Song of the Indian – José Guimarães
- Where are the Indians who were here? – Paula Belmino
The life of the Indian – Edmar Batista de Souza (Itohã Pataxó)
The Indian Fighter,
There is always a story to tell.
Things in his life,
Which he will not deny.
Life is one of suffering,
And I need to recover.
I fight for my land,
Because she belongs to me.
She's my mother,
And it makes a lot of people happy.
She everything we give,
If we plant the seed.
My fight is big,
I don't know when it will end.
I don't give up on my dreams,
And I know when I'll find it.
The happiness of a people,
Who lives to dream.
Being an Indian is not easy,
But they have to understand.
That we are Indian warriors.
And we fight to win.
We have to seek peace,
And see our people grow.
I'm proud to be an Indian,
And I have culture to show.
I fight for my ideals,
And I will never give up.
I'm Pataxó Hahhãe,
And I have a lot to expand.
Land Owners – Daniela Valadares Aleixo
they usurped their culture
costumes and traditions.
took over their
lands, its green devastated.
The Indian walked naked, a free
innocence, was injected into their
untruths about morality
blinded its purity...
513 years later, The Indian
still have to fight, for a
land that was always his,
prove that this is your place.
The strength of the Indian comes from a desire,
prove that this vast land is not
"nobody's land".
This land has always had owners,
had and still has… INDIANS.
Bird that is not a bird – Carmem Teresa Elias and Beatriz Ribeiro
The singing was long, melodious
in the harmony of the forest
The colorful ornament of feathers and feathers
It contained yellows, greens, blues…
With them, there were the colors of Brazil
There was music from the forests of Brazil
But your singing became rare
so rare
As for the singing of Uirapuru…
bird that is not bird
the forest is silent
The Indians are almost extinct!
Brazil has not learned to live with such charm!!!
Party at Taba – Benedito Gomes Rodrigues
The shaman warned.
The chief listened.
The taba needs,
Urgently,
Have fun!
"Get the 'pife',
The tambors,
And the maracas!
it's time to party
Dear Mother Earth!
The sun and the air!
Brothers and sisters,
Screams of love!
Steps to the ground.
Father's, and grandfather's floor!"
It's harmony in rhythm.
the step of life,
That beats in the heart.
It's sound together.
Beat on brotherhood.
All of the emotion.
Life is us!
All in one life!
Speaking of Indian – Ana Lucia Souza Cruz
I'm a little Indian who walks peacefully along the beach, my backyard.
Intelligent, I know that I have everything to be happy.
But I feel that, lurking, they were watching me from afar.
One day, however, it happened… I met a few different men covered in rags.
With every child's normal curiosity, I shyly approached and was enchanted by the news.
Little did I know that then my slavery would begin… And in the midst of rejection I met a different weapon. Weapon of a cowardly man because in hand to hand he did not fight.
From a distance it caused its damage, which the cowardly man fired from his ambush.
It was useless to shout: – We don't need anything, we already have everything and we want our peace!
Another language they spoke...
Religion, customs and traditions were imposed on me.
My life was decimated…
Little by little I watched my people die, and I asked myself: – What will become of us now?
The silence …
And there, far away in the woods, a sympathetic bird, with its song, answered me.
And the pain that hurt me the most was being heard…
Traditional Pankararu Poems – Kaciane Monteiro and Eriane Maria
In the land we plant and harvest.
I came to a stop,
Meet the Pankararu people,
And compete with the kids,
At parties we celebrate, with a beautiful chest.
Pankararu goes through life.
Always looking at the ground,
One more day found out,
And he valued the nation.
Changed from water to wine,
It became a people of action.
Pankararu is born to suffer,
In this world of yours,
So live the Pankararu.
For those who don't trust love,
More will, faith and friendship,
Any pain always wins.
It's no use being in a hurry,
For fate never betrays.
The Pankararu were born for victory,
It's not grass that the ground attracts,
When the fall is set,
God arrives he doesn't fall.
Who is from the ground don't dare,
The popular saying goes, Pankararu.
What on earth belongs to the Indian,
No animal will take it.
It only kills whoever wants to kill.
I will guard my field
Finish that journey.
Other people are waiting for me,
To hear funny things,
That Pankararu stories,
They give the kids free.
And if we can suffer today.
We suffered until we win.
And with the strength of our father.
Santsé, and Enchanted strength.
We will overcome any obstacles.
Indian Day – W. Marques
There is already an Indian teacher.
Indian with black.
There is already an Indian doctor.
Landless Indian.
Indian voting for Indian.
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Indian with white,
Indian who performs miracles.
All that's missing is the holy Indian.
Indian farmer.
There's just no imported Indian,
the Indian here is Brazilian.
Indian who fights.
Indian listens.
Son of the other.
Indian that's fine.
Cultured Indian.
Indian backwoods.
Indian in party
Indian in mourning.
Destruction – Francinaldo Gûyraguasu – Potiguara from Akajutibiró Village/PB
When I looked at our woods
in a sad destruction
animals are dying
thanks the heartless man
What a beauty were these woods
The urge to cry
listening to the birdsong
fleeing chestnut on your way
even our rivers
are being destroyed
Cutting the trees from its banks
Changing the course already polluted
Today I see many trees
Cut and even burned
I get sad right now
why such destruction
When the green of these forests
touch your heart
seeing everything you've done
With your people and your brother
nature is our mother
Never forgive your child
what she tries to destroy
With arrogance and ambition.
The life of the Indian – Edmar Batista de Souza (Itohã Pataxó)
The Indian Fighter,
There is always a story to tell.
Things in his life,
Which he will not deny.
Life is one of suffering,
And I need to recover.
I fight for my land,
Because she belongs to me.
She's my mother,
And it makes a lot of people happy.
She everything we give,
If we plant the seed.
My fight is big,
I don't know when it will end.
I don't give up on my dreams,
And I know when I'll find it.
The happiness of a people,
Who lives to dream.
Being an Indian is not easy,
But they have to understand.
That we are Indian warriors.
And we fight to win.
We have to seek peace,
And see our people grow.
I'm proud to be an Indian,
And I have culture to show.
I fight for my ideals,
And I will never give up.
I'm Pataxó Hahhãe,
And I have a lot to expand.
Song of the Indian – José Guimarães
One day they came from far away
in their powerful caravels
and impressed us
They invaded our lands,
built big cities
and they expelled us
However, they didn't need to expel us
From the land where we lived
where we were born
making us suffer
And like an animal we hide
In these corners of the country
Brazil is very big,
no one need deny
Just look at our woods,
navigate our rivers
and explore our sea
However, they didn't need to expel us
From the land where we were born,
where we always live
No money, no clothes,
but with a lot of peace
Because when they got here
they already found us
scattered in the woods
raising our children
to fish
hunting
Singing
And dancing
However, they didn't need to expel us
Because when they got here
already found us
and inhabited this land
that wasn't theirs
that was nobody's
Here we lived together
happy and happy
cultivating roots
planting to eat
fighting to live
discovering remedies
To help caboclo who fall ill
Also killing or dying
For our tribe to defend.
Therefore, they didn't need
expel us
From the land where we were born,
where we always live
It was enough for them to live around
wherever they wanted
and leave us alone
in our happy corners
because we never would
in their corner bother them
And that no one can deny!
Where are the Indians who were here? – Paula Belmino
1,2,3 little indians
in the forest alone
saw the jaguar
and running
in the tree they climbed
shot an arrow
and the jaguar fled.
1,2,3 little indians
in the river brave
they sang to Tupã
and each one with his spear
they took only one fish.
1,2,3 little indians
in the forest
planted seeds
picked ripe fruits
the herbs for pain
and food only
and right there in your hollow
sent smoke
to the gods of love
so that the forest was
always protective.
1,2,3 little indians
afraid of a people
white that imposes
new ways of living
indians who were free
now they don't know how to live.
1,2,3 little indians
well alone
they don't know how to fight anymore
the forest is sparse
there are no fish in the river.
They're not even afraid of the jaguar anymore
she no longer comes looking for them.
1,2,3 little indians
what a sadness it is!
the face painted in the fight,
the body covered in clothes,
of the white man
the new language to speak.
The house that was made of straw
bricks and sand cemented.
and now no longer free
of 1,2,3 little indians
The whistle fell silent.
where are the indians
who in the boat did they swim?
did the jaguar take them?
The man animal without pity or pity
your land, your language and culture
everything from the Indian has changed!
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