The Builders

The builders At the end of the avenue stood a big, white residence with a splendid garden with trees and flowers Generations of titled people had visited this house even it is said; the king of Portugal Time changes even great families die out and the house was left to its own device and the garden a paradise for Cats and rats The builders, slayers of old beauty, punched; bought the building from a distant cousin who moved to Alentejo bought horses, his dream of being a cowboy fulfilled The house and the once splendid garden and set to work From the ruin of the past, an apartment building arose a luxury one with a quarter for the maid. That, my friend, is how everything ends, if not of great value The loveliness of the old is a memory.