In Alentejo’s hold, where sun does kiss,
The rolling plains with golden light aglow,
Where olive groves in verdant beauty bliss,
And cork oaks stand like sentinels in row.
Thy Roman temple, noble and so grand,
A sentinel of time, stands proud and tall,
As if to guard the secrets of this land,
In shadowed past, where ancient voices call.
Thy chapel, Gothic splendor reaching high,
Arches pointing to heaven in prayer,
In silence, one can hear the ancient sigh,
Of pilgrims who once sought solace there.
Oh, land of endless fields and skies so blue,
In thee, Évora, I’ve found my home true.
Hayden Coombs 