Going home.
On the plain of Alentejo
sacred green grass ornamented with white flowers.
Rolling landscape and big farms
grazing cattle,
sheep in the shade of umbrella trees.
Rolling landscape I would love to be a stallion here.
Alas, I see few horses and no mares,
but many four- wheeled motorbikes
disturbing the peace.
Cows, sheep and big balled bulls
milk and meat,
time to stop for lunch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem