Tejo

Went for a breath of air after work. Today was a particular difficult day. By the river I found this poem painted on the floor. It is by Fernando Pessoa the original version can be found here.

XX

The Tejo is more beautiful than the river that flows through my village,
But the Tejo isn?t more beautiful than the river that flows through my village,
Because the Tejo isn?t the river that flows through my village.

The Tejo has big boats
And there navigates in it still,
For those who see what?s not there in everything,
The memory of fleets.

The Tejo runs down from Spain
And the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal.
Everybody knows that.
But not many people know the river of my village
And where it comes from
And where it?s going.
And so, because it belongs to less people,
The river of my village is freer and greater.

Through the Tejo you go to the World.
Beyond the Tejo is America
And the fortune you encounter there.
Nobody ever thinks about what?s beyond
The river of my village.

The river of my village doesn?t make you think about anything.
When you?re at its bank you?re only at its bank.