“Where is the living love,
Where is it?

Roads of my city:
I run after my friend,
Where is he?

Streets of my São Paulo:
Love greater than food,
Where is it?

Roads of my city:
An answer to my request,
Where is it?

Streets of my São Paulo:
The fault of the restless one,
Where is it?

It must be in the past:
In the damned centuries,
There it is. ”

““Brothers of Three Colors Macunaima caught sight of . . . a hollow the shape of a giant’s footprint, full of water. . . . The hero, squealing because the water was so cold, washed himself all over. But this water was magic water, for the hollow was St. Thomas’ footprint. . . . When the hero had finished his bath he was white- skinned, blue-eyed and fair-haired; the holy water had washed away all his blackness. . . . As soon as Jiguê saw this miracle he sprang into St. Thomas’ footprint. But by this time the water was very dirty from the hero’s ivory blackness, so . . . (Jiguê) was left the colour of freshly minted bronze. . . . Then Maanape went to wash, but Jiguê had splashed all the water out of the pool . . . so that Maanape could wet only the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. That’s why he remained black like a good son of the Tapanhuma tribe. . . . The three brothers made a superb picture . . . one fair, one red- skinned, one black. All the denizens of the forest looked at them in amazement”. ”