Project Info
Project Description
“It seems a dream,
The time that has flown
From my life,
Without the wounds it has left on my heart;
Without the wounds that now open again
When I see that the garden fountain
Does not overflow, nor sing, nor cry.
Thirty years of my life flew by fast,
And there is still
Hung from the branch
A length of cord from the swing,
As a sad memory,
Decayed remains of a torn down world…
Mutilated faun,
Dry fountain,
Desolate garden
Of my youth.”