Rebecca Horn · L’estel ferit (targa) · 1992 · Barcelona
Anche le case sono fari per chi vaga di notte.
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,-
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow’s soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, – I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time’s eddyng flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death’s despite
And day and night yeld one delight once more?