Lisbon

There are beautiful views from atop the Castelo de Sao Jorge.  We rested on a cement bench. This poem by Sophia de Mello Breyner, which was engraved on the seat, captures the essence of Lisbon.  I read it again and again whenever I seek inspiration.

I say "Lisbon"

When I arrive from the South

and cross the River

And the city opens up as if

born from its name

It opens and rises in its

nocturnal vastness

In its long shimmering of

blue of river

In its rugged body of hills.

Lisbon with its name of

being and nonbeing

With its meanders of astonishment

insomnia and shacks

And its secret theater sparkle

Its mastlike smile of intrigue

and complicity

While the wide sea stretches westward

Lisbon swaying like a sailing ship

Lisbon cruelly built next to

its own absence.