Presence of Absence

Across the square from this church was a cafe that advertised Fado Night. Go anywhere in old Lisbon and you can find an establishment where Fado (a Portuguese folk song that is “typically of doleful or fatalistic character”) is performed. The music was described to me by one Alfacinha (a person from Lisbon) as “the presence of absence.” I think that is what we were feeling as we walked along these quiet, historic streets.

The past is risen in lovely Lisbon,

Narrow tiled streets wind

Up steps to the castle climb,

Leaving the troubled present behind.

A long shadow falls on the church walls,

It is an image of a tree we see

Stamped on the silent weathered stone,

Waiting for the sun to set it free.

Damp laundry hangs high above the lamps,

Plants in clay pots line the balcony,

Like a string of pearls on display,

Subtle reminders of life’s harmony.

Fado night in the bright sunlight,

Empty tables stand in the square.

We stop and listen to the church bells,

A lonely pigeon takes flight elsewhere.

A remarkable place in such a small space,

The old church doors slowly open.

From humble hidden homes they come,

As if a silent command was spoken.

For all that is pleasurable in Portugal,

It was this sense that struck us most.

While an army of tourists invade their space,

The Alfacinha take comfort from their place.