“It was the guitar that gave us fado.
And the sun, the blessing of the day.
In the vineyards, time stood still
to see poetry born.
She – a bride without words,
danced like one who feels.
Her body light, her soul whole,
in an enveloping rhythm.
There was no voice or promise,
just the strumming…
and she, around the guitarist,
like someone who knows how to love.
It didn’t need a song –
was presence, it was truth.
A fado danced in time,
embroidered for eternity.”
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