TRAIRAM YOU, NATIVE LOVED ' ' They had in such a way postponed the cut of the trees deceased, that they had started to fall of podres' '. In a night of limpid stars, when passing for the International Park, I contemplated, tremulando, packed for a light breeze, as to greet me in the silence of the dawn, prettiest of the flags, symbol of one of more the notables nations of this planet, Brazil. My memory travelled for the tunnel of the time. I remembered that in the past the vi to also tremular in the most distant hiddings place of our Native land; in longnquas regions of borders, in the barges in the rivers of the Amaznia, in the extensions of the river San Francisco, in the Brazilian delegations in the exterior, in places for where long ago I walked. She was the same one that since early I learned to love in the pertaining to school banks and with which for some time I coexisted daily during the military service here in the frozen garrisons of these extreme limits of our native land.
Symbol whose meant deeper we to it give, the inhabitants of the borders, nothing having to see with blind nationalism fanatic that it takes the peoples to the dullness of the wars, but yes to a love for the native land as our sacred house. Today, attending the horror of the moral degradation that happens in our Country, I am thinking about all those traram that it. Exactly not being this politics of vendilhes of the native land a natural rule, is in part a standard of behavior of a uncontrolled society, currently manipulated for the suspicious interests of that no comprometimento has with the most elementary principles of moral and human values. According to Australian writer Morris West: ' ' In politics, of any form, he does not have moral.