Romãzeiras no jardim da Gulbenkian. Romã, em inglês, é Pomegranate, que curiosamente também é o título de um contundente poema de D.H. Lawrence:

«You tell me I am wrong. Who are you, who is anybody to tell me I am wrong? I am not wrong.

In Syracuse, rock left bare by the viciousness of Greek women. No doubt you have forgotten the pomegranate-trees in flower, Oh so red, and such a lot of them. (...)

(...) Do you mean to tell me you will see no fissure? Do you prefer to look on the plain side?

For all that, the setting suns are open. The end cracks open with the beginning: Rosy, tender, glittering within the fissure.

Do you mean to tell me there should be no fissure? No glittering, compact drops of dawn? Do you mean it is wrong, the gold-filmed skin, integument, shown ruptured?

For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.»