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Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Prato do Dia


I spent last weekend in the Algarve in Portugal.  I was staying near the town of Albufeira (Arabic: البحيرة (al-Buħayra = "the lagoon").  After landing in Faro I was intoxicated from the warm, exotic and spiced air.  After a while my familiarity grew and novelty faded.  It was last year that I first encountered the sense of this one early morning in Seville.  I smiled inwardly to have the experience again.

When I saw the Portuguese word "dia"  which means day I immediately thought of our Irish word "Dia" which means God. God and day.  I wonder how far back in the languages of mankind these two entities may be entwined?

It was extremely hot and difficult to sleep at night.  Temperatures were pushing 40 degrees celsius I believe.  It truly is a world away and I could sense Africa below us,almost calling.  If I go back again next year I would like to go to Gibraltar and I will stay for longer.


In the market-place,
The smell of something or other -
The summer moon.

Boncho

All the fishermen of the beach
Are away:
The poppies are blooming.

Kyorai





1 comment:

  1. what a lovely sense of being in the algarve while hearing the call of africa.

    nice to meet you, i came over from words a day.

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