LISBOA SOB NÉVOA Na névoa, a cidade, ébria oscila, 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 As Fábulas. Relógio d'Água, Lisboa 03/07/2019
| 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. © Translation: Richard Zenith |