A émigré's Dilemma


I have lived in this foreign country long, longer than I should
Many seasons I have seen, my hair is grey and brow wrinkled
seeking an understanding of a life that makes no sense.
I know their culture, have read Fernando Pessoa, sing their
songs, but I came here as an adult, but my heart is not there.
I wanted to be a part of this Iberian country, but when
remembering a lullaby, my mother used to sing, when the party
is over, I know I’m a pretender.
I have lived here too long, but if I go back to my old country
I will be a stranger, in a town where no one knows my name,
and I will dream of a mythical Portugal.