兵馬俑

Guerreiros Terracota

A quem sabe esperar , o tempo abre as portas .

Proud Cherokee

 

Cherokee Rose By Marc McCord :

Seven petals for seven tribes growing on the trail where they cried. Center of gold for the land white men stole. Four thousand of my ancestors died. The trail was long, the journey harsh crossing a thousand miles of mountain and marsh and in the place where proud people those cried the tears that watered Cherokee Rose. Oh Spirit Wolf, oh Spirit Owl hear the winter winds that howl. Oh Spirit Eagle, oh Spirit Deer why did so many have to die here? One nation prospered, one nation fell. One went to heaven, one was sent to hell. Cherokee Rose that blooms in spring reminds us of the songs they sing. White petals, a sign of those tears that still wet the ground after a hundred fifty years remind us all of what was lost from proud people who bore the ultimate cost. Seven petals for seven tribes growing on the trail where they cried. Center of gold for the land white men stole. Four thousand of my ancestors died.

Om Aim Hreem Kleem Chamundaye Viche