Wednesday, February 4, 2009

God wills, Man dreams, the work is born.
God willed that all earth be one,
That seas unite and never separate.
You he blessed, and you went forth to read the foam.

And the white shore lit up, isle to continent,
And flowed, even to the world's end,
And suddenly the earth was seen complete,
Upsurging, round, from blue profundity.

Who blessed you made you Portuguese.
Us he gave a sign: the sea's and our part in you.
The Sea fulfilled, the Empire fell apart.
But ah, Portugal must yet fulfill itself!

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