Joao, the First
man and the hour are one
When God makes and history is made.
The rest is flesh, whose dust
The earth awaits.
Master, unwitting, of the Temple
That Portugal was made to be,
You won the glory and gave the example
Of defending it.
Your name, elected for its fame,
Is, on the sacrificial altar of our inner soul,
The eternal flame that wards off
enigma held your bosom
That geniuses alone did conceive?
What archangel came to watch
Over your maternal dreams, one day?
Turn to us your austere face,
Princess of the Holy Grail,
Human womb of the Empire,