Silently on the banks of the Zêzere
just watching the water flow.
Passing towns, dams and bridges
from a far away Galicia into the river Tejo.
Water filled with tears of joy
rolled of an emotional bride's cheeks.
She's saying yes to married life,
dreams of sex while the priest still speaks.
The waves reflect the sound
of far gone music, dance, and laughter
For their love and their compassion
suffered a steep decline thereafter.
Hilltops became small islands
in a human-constructed lake.
The river gave a sailors funeral
to the village life that was at stake.
Down in the darkness of the valley
some pins still on a clothesline.
An ox plow buried under algae
the little roadside chapel became a shrine.
All memories are flushed to the sea
scattered by a high fall at the dam
for now, there's just a quiet surface
hiding a tragic historic scam.
Where roads stop at the waterfront
and boats are launched to float
an old woman is imagining herself
the times when she didn't have a vote.
Silently on the banks of the Zêzere
just watching the water flow.
Passing towns, dams, and bridges
from a far away Galicia into the river Tejo.
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