"A piece of soul, my Lord,
I throw in the sky so that
you will make of it a star and
a guide on the path of truth"
Few words are these which were born in Rome; they appeared in the midst of the crowd, silently in my heart like fire-flies in the night which light up in their dance, making no noise.
It was a brief feeling, taken in the instant, caught like a flower: we are made of moments joint together by waits, blood and furor and that music was wait, blood and furor in its silences, emotions and passion. But it was also the common tongue between spirit and heart, brothers extraneous to each other: the heart talked to the spirit and the spirit to the heart but they both said just a word called "love".
Eyes on the terraces as candles covering the concrete with what's true in mankind; they beated like wings of souls freed by the sound and by the reverberation of that music in the empty cavern of time.
Eyes right down the stage to project the look to the sky and to make of Madredeus and of their music the thanksgiving's prayer for that peace which was true for a moment.
from the site Madredeus - O Porto - http://go.to/madredeus