"Ai!" The boy sees the tap is on again;
He calls; his friends come running up to play;
They cool themselves, pretend to spurt the spray
Over some nearby gently dozing men.
The game palls; mamãe, babe on hip, appears;
To dodge her he runs up the alleyway,
And onto a high platform, and yet may
Escape; but there an awesome vista rears –
Torre dos Clerigos rides the far crest;
Round it a sea of red-tiled roof tops swirls
And rising, breaks against the Se and curls
On down; he gazes, lost at mamãe's breast,
Like a ship's lookout awestruck at the sight
Of wave upon wave to horizon's light.