The dusty road winds steeply Up the terraced hillside between Olive groves of ancient trees With thick trunks, split and twisted, Their grey foliage swaying in the breeze.
A ruminating donkey idly munching dry grass Disturbs the silence with the tinkling of his bell. Sweet blossoms perfume the evening air The heady scent drifts across the stillness Spreading the sensation that all is well.
And there, clinging to the top of the hill, a village Where houses of golden stone glow warmly in the setting sun. And standing proudly on the summit high, Is an ancient Monastery, like a benevolent father Guarding a much loved child, keeping a watchful eye.
This place, remote on a hilltop that seems to touch the sky, This place that looks down and views you from on high, This place is Valldemosa.