Ah, dark-skinned woman, with skin that holds the mysteries of the forest and a soul as vast as the rivers of deep Brazil, you are a poem written by nature. You are not a woman: you are an apparition. Your hair, straight and black as the nights of the backlands, falls like a blessed veil, each strand a promise of enchantment. Your corpulent figure is not just beauty, it is a manifesto. It is the fullness of femininity, proof that sensuality lives where life is most intense. And when you laugh, oh, when you laugh, it seems like the entire universe falls silent to listen. Your laughter, that song that seduces men like the song of the sirens, is not just sound; it is melody, it is an irresistible call to the hearts that lose themselves in its enchantment. You, woman of the forest, bring in your smile the sweetness and strength of someone who carries Brazil within themselves. Whoever sees you never comes back the same: you are the essence of passion and restlessness, you are love made flesh, you are beauty that hurts because it is so beautiful.