A Cabeça do Velho

Above the skies there she is. Steady for thousands of years.

All the birds had flown up and gone,

Some lonely clouds float quietly by,

Here they are, at every single dawn:

The mountain's peak and that head's guy.

Is like the old byword:

 The gifts comoving rocks.

(so there's the answer for her stability)

Texto: Francis

Fotografia: Joana