Porto Sentido

Who comes and crosses the river
By the Serra do Pilar
Sees an old house
That stretches out to the sea

Who sees you coming from the bridge
You're a waterfall, a St. John's festival
Raised up on a hill
In the middle of the fog

Through alleys and sidewalks
From Ribeira to the Foz
Over dirty, worn stones
And sad, lonely streetlights

And that serious, heavy air of yours
On a stone-carved face
That hides the mystery
Of that beautiful, dark light

Seeing you like this, abandoned
In that grayish tone
In your closed-off way
Like someone grinding a feeling

And it’s always the first time
Every time I come back home
Seeing you in that pride
Like a wounded kite in the wing