Bussaco Palace, sounds of the path #3

I still hear the voices of
the street where I was born
my mother who called me
so many times but the scream
of liberty was louder
and under the sun that
lights the courtyards
I see the children’s dusty runs
that by playing don’t make it stop
I still hear singing in dialect
the lullabies of rain on the roof
for me this everything
this sweet appreciation
is music to remember
it’s inside me…
it’s part of me…
it runs with me…
it’s music

~ Eros Ramazzotti [Musica É]

|Serra do Bussaco, Portugal|

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