Aqui está a tradução detalhada para o inglês:
"I've been walking these wilds since I can remember, avoiding human settlements and large crowds. This is due to the teachings of my parents, who told me to avoid gatherings and never trust people. In these times, it's very easy to become someone's dinner. Amidst the desolation, human nature never fails to show its cruelty, and that's still the least of our problems, as the plague devastates our days and doesn't allow the dead to rest. Although such settlements are extremely rare, I haven't seen any myself in this life, and I don't even know if they truly exist. After the loss of my parents, I began to wander aimlessly, following the path of the sun. I've always admired the sunset, for as it descends into the twilight, it stains the sky with its blood, as if a great beast pursued and defeated it. But it rises again to make the same journey.
Brown clouds fill the sky most days, and the rain from them isn't always beneficial for the living; it burns our skin, the rock, and the metal. Although it seems to have little effect on the walkers, on us, it burns to the point where we spend days in almost unbearable pain. I believe you, the reader, must be wondering what the walkers are, or perhaps you already know, or maybe you are unfamiliar with this name. Everyone names them as they wish, I suppose. I hope I never become one of them someday. Due to the plague, all of us, according to my parents, have been contaminated. Most of the time, it has no effect, except when we have direct contact with it through the bite of an infected person, or the ingestion of the plague's blood, wounds, and infections. But that doesn't lessen its effect. Yes, my friend, we are condemned. Even without symptoms, we are destined to one day become like these walkers. They were once like you and me: humans with hope, dreams, loved ones, who looked at the same sky and fought every day to try and remain in this world. They also lost precious people, cried, smiled, had to leave people behind so they themselves wouldn't perish, and, in the end, they became walkers. Once we die, the infection takes over the body and begins to take effect. Some remain as if they are alive, others rot, some become extremely disturbing beings, creatures that haunt our nightmares during deep sleep. But they have one thing in common: the desire for flesh.
According to my father, the elders said that when someone died, we should hurry and flee the spot, leaving the dead behind. We should not try to burn or bury them, and under no circumstances put them near water. We should leave them intact and move on. I believe that was an exaggeration on their part, for what is the thing that fire does not consume? And this land, which is largely dead, couldn't it cover and embrace them like a mother receiving her child? Couldn't the creatures of the sky snatch the deceased and gorge themselves on their entrails? I had to learn this the hard way and understand that the myths and legends of the ancients serve as lessons so that we, the future generation, don't make the same mistakes they did.
The ground we walk on is poor; it crumbles in our hands when we touch it, and herbs rarely sprout from it. Because of this, we walk for a long time until we can find something consumable amidst the traps created by nature. Sometimes, an herb, however useless it may seem, can be used as a cure, or, paired with a good meal, can provide an inestimable flavor, but it can also lead to a point of no return. With a lot of luck, we might find an animal or two in this wasteland and, with great difficulty, eat meat. But this isn't always possible, as the places that might hold game are extremely dangerous: these are the dreaded ruins of the old world. They said they were cities that could touch the sky and were inhabited by countless humans who lived and celebrated, until the calamity came and turned them into piled rubble, twisted metal, countless walkers hidden inside, and, the worst of them all, the mutated walkers.
These walkers have been on Earth since I can remember. Many were born from people who departed this world and returned as wandering dead. Others say they come from ancient times, or even before the wars. It is a fact that a dead, putrid being walks as if alive, and not only that: it pursues and kills anyone it encounters, trying to feed. According to my parents, these walkers are extremely dangerous and require great caution. This is because a wound caused by them can infect a normal person, eventually killing them and then causing them to return as one of them.
Many of these walkers roam dispersed, but sometimes they gather in hordes, composed of countless individuals, which can be deadly. Unlike us humans, they do not tire, they do not sleep, they do not feel pain. They don't even seem to feel fear, cold, or hunger. So why do they feed on living things? Perhaps an instinct, who knows, or simply their metabolism allows them to preserve themselves by consuming a bit of energy. That is, if they aren't like plants that receive sunlight and feed — but that's just a query of mine. Because if that were the case, why would they feed? Although I've heard that there are plants in the north that devour living things, I haven't gotten to know those, fortunately."