Perhaps love is possible.
I went out there
looking for the sun
out there was a cold empty cave
no warmth it gave.
I looked to the east
realized how I longed so much to be where I already was
looked to the west
and felt the sun
Realized how it was a part of me
the past the west
the place from where I came
is as real as where I now am.
It is nor past nor futur
but mearly a continuation of the present
I look to the north,
to the northern star
and remember the snow.
I look to the south
and think of summer
of golden beaches
of rippling waters
of hills of sand.
I open my eyes look around
take a deep breath
and realize
how honestly beautiful
all of this is.
To look at the hills
to look at them and know
that to their earth i belong
to their earth I was never a stranger
To know that this land
runs in my veins
but most of all fills my heart
for there is nothing more beautiful
than coming home
after a long time away.
To hills of cork trees
that run down slopping hills
To the olive tree
with its golden nectar
To the sun beaten ground
of my alentejo roots
To the sun the moom the stars
to being happy in the midst of economic trouble
to reminding every portuguese that
it may be hard
but it is our home
and together we will always be brother and sisters
because we are all from the same home.
I went out there
looking for the sun
out there was a cold empty cave
no warmth it gave.
I looked to the east
realized how I longed so much to be where I already was
looked to the west
and felt the sun
Realized how it was a part of me
the past the west
the place from where I came
is as real as where I now am.
It is nor past nor futur
but mearly a continuation of the present
I look to the north,
to the northern star
and remember the snow.
I look to the south
and think of summer
of golden beaches
of rippling waters
of hills of sand.
I open my eyes look around
take a deep breath
and realize
how honestly beautiful
all of this is.
To look at the hills
to look at them and know
that to their earth i belong
to their earth I was never a stranger
To know that this land
runs in my veins
but most of all fills my heart
for there is nothing more beautiful
than coming home
after a long time away.
To hills of cork trees
that run down slopping hills
To the olive tree
with its golden nectar
To the sun beaten ground
of my alentejo roots
To the sun the moom the stars
to being happy in the midst of economic trouble
to reminding every portuguese that
it may be hard
but it is our home
and together we will always be brother and sisters
because we are all from the same home.
