Prece [English translation]

Perhaps I'll die on the beach

Surrounded in a perfidious bath

Of all the foam on the beach

Like a shepherd faints

In the midst of his flock.

Perhaps I'll die on the street

And finding me suddenly

On a cold and moonless night

Among the rocks on the street

Trodden by everyone.

Perhaps I'll die between bars

In the middle of a prison

Because the world beyond the bars

Will forget the longing

That gnawed at my heart.

Perhaps I'll die in bed

Where a death is natural

Hands crossed over my chest

From God's hands I accept all

As long as I die in Portugal.