Project Info
Project Description
“When I raised my head, what pine cones
Amongst the ruffled pines!
Against the moonlight,
Five ravens on three hanged men.
I somehow reached
The crag at Galatzó.
Its ridge passed behind the mountain
In the darkness of a shower.
The storm soaked my forehead,
And echoed around the cliffs.
I wanted to sit by the spring
Which was lost up in the rocks.
Below the black poplars
A ghost stopped me:
Amongst the streaming rain,
Lit up with each lightning strike,
The Comte Mal, by the trough,
Was watering his horse.”