In Sintra’s realm, where mystic fogs enshroud,
A fairy-tale unfolds in every glen,
With palaces and castles gently endowed,
As if dreamt into existence by men.
Upon the hill, a palace fair doth rise,
Pena, in vibrant colors brightly dressed,
Where Moorish echoes linger in the skies,
A historic treasure on Lisbon’s crest.
Through Sintra’s woods, enchanted whispers flow,
In Sintra’s gardens, rhymes of nature’s verse,
The beauty of this land in every bough,
A place where time and fantasy disperse.
Oh, Sintra fair, in Portugal’s sweet grace,
Thy charm and beauty time cannot erase.
Hayden Coombs 