The Weight of Fading Pleasure

Ophelia, you drowned in my lake

Of executed dreams once again

Locked up in rooms of foreign languages

And echoes of shattered love affairs

While the lakes unfold once again

Let me drink of your myths and imagery

Ophelia, let me drink of your desire and loss

Ophelia, your desire is my command

Utolino, have we ever asked you

Are you made of marble or ruin?

Your sons were sacrificed to the inner

Circle of hell, leaving nothing but laughter

You seek for the sisters of charity

But at the bottom the clocks have no hours left

And now your fear is imprisoned

Into the artist’s bare fight

La Défense is looking at the rest of us

Unsure what she has protected

The monotony of the bare world

Or the motionless skylines underneath

Although Rodin’s victims have told you

Nothingness is real and our dream is non-existent

You haven’t sold your wings to carry

The weight of fading pleasure