Poem
Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão
Lisbon in the Fog
In the fog the city, drunk,staggers and falls.
Formless, the buildings
lose their place and day.
Attached to nothing,
the walls are menhirs,
ancient and hazy stones
with no beginning, no end.
LISBOA SOB NÉVOA
LISBOA SOB NÉVOA
Na névoa, a cidade, ébriaoscila, tomba.
Informes, as casas
perdem o lugar e o dia.
Cravadas no nada,
as paredes são menires,
pedras antigas, vagas
sem princípio, sem fim.
© 2002, Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão
From: As Fábulas
Publisher: Relógio d\'Água, Lisbon
From: As Fábulas
Publisher: Relógio d\'Água, Lisbon
Poems
Poems of Fiama Hasse Pais Brandão
Close
Lisbon in the Fog
In the fog the city, drunk,staggers and falls.
Formless, the buildings
lose their place and day.
Attached to nothing,
the walls are menhirs,
ancient and hazy stones
with no beginning, no end.
From: As Fábulas
Lisbon in the Fog
In the fog the city, drunk,staggers and falls.
Formless, the buildings
lose their place and day.
Attached to nothing,
the walls are menhirs,
ancient and hazy stones
with no beginning, no end.
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