Casa Poema | San Miguel Sotheby's International Realty

It's a stick, it's a stone, it's the end of the road It's the rest of the world, it's a little lonely It's a glass jar, it's the life, it's the sun It's the night, it's death, it's the void, it's the anzol It's the dirt of the field, it's the dust of the wood Ganga, ganga, it's the Matita Pereira It's the wood of the wind, it's the trunk of the ribanceira It's the deep mystery, it's the will or not It's the wind blowing, it's the end of the slope It's the life, it's the good, the party of the cuneira It's the rain pouring, it's the river of conversation Of the waters of March, it's the end of the caniceira It's the foot, it's the ground, it's the mastradeira Bird in the sea, a stone of the shooting range It's a bird in the sky, it's a bird on the ground It's a spring, it's a source, it's a piece of bread It's the end of the pulse, it's the end of the way In the face of disgust, it's a body alone It's a stress, it's a loss, it's a point, it's a point It's a pine, it's a mistake, it's a count, it's a count It's a fish, it's a gesture, it's a shining silver It's the light of the morning, it's the brick arriving It's the wood, it's the day, it's the end of the bite It's the bottle of sugar, the stilhasso on the road It's the project of the house, it's the body on the bed It's the car, it's the mud, it's the mud It's a step, it's a bridge, it's a bag It's a branch, it's the rest of the bush In the light of the morning, it's the waters of March Closing the summer, it's the promise of life in your heart It's a snake, it's a stick, it's João, it's José It's a thorn in the hand, it's a cut on the foot It's the waters of March, closing the summer It's the promise of life in your heart It's a stick, it's a stone, it's the end of the road It's a rest, it's a little, alone It's a step, it's a bridge, it's a branch, it's a branch It's a beautiful horizon, it's a stress fever It's the waters of March, closing the summer It's the promise of life in your heart