Once upon a time there was Iberia, a land of mountains, myths and beauty.
There lived people who began and ended every day with singing
And sang every voice the song of its own,
And all the voices as one twined golden patterns in the air.
There lived people who filled every day with dancing
And thus in their movements appeared day and night, sun and storm, the flame of joy, the darkness of grief, and the sweetness of love.
But no song or dance was good enough as the house was silent and empty without guests,
For hospitality was the sense of their lives.
Stood there a guest on the threshold, the best songs would be sung, and the liveliest dances performed, and the finest paintings created, and the oldest wine served, and the greatest toasts and poems pronounced,
and art will that be named.
Henceforth came Iberia out of the shadow and began to shine.



 
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