Together with this one, I'm also starting the thread Time Machine on the general forum.
To expand the vast, endless, rich portfolio of simcountrian literature and seeing as I am studying Pessoa's poetic theory, we shall all have to settle with a crackpot poem.
To the west an alluring land defines,
Of gentle sands and delicate wines,
Crowned with northern high peaks,
And blessed with southern slow weeks.
In this calm western land,
Proud origin of brave stand,
The silent summer wind returns
the free kings free of concerns.
They bring colorful, ludic dreams,
To spread the wished sun beams,
Elements of all holy aspirations,
Elements of all magnific creations.
This is a place for heart and soul
To express themselves as a whole.
A place as immense as the skies,
To the west an alluring land defines.