Porto Sentido

Who comes and crosses the river
Next to the Pilar mountain
Sees an old group of houses
That extends to the sea

Who sees you coming from the bridge
You're a waterfall, Saint John's
Erected on a hill
In the midst of the mist

Through alleys and sidewalks
From Ribeira to Foz
Through dirty and worn stones
And sad and lonely lampposts

And that serious and grave air of yours
On a stone face
That hides from us the mystery
Of that beautiful and dark light

To see you abandoned like this
In that dull tone
In that closed way of yours
As if grinding a feeling

And it's always the first time
With each return home
To see you again in that pride
Of a wounded kite in the wing