Se perdió el laberinto. Se perdieron todos los eucaliptos ordenados.
Gone was the labyrinth. Lost the eucalyptuses so well aligned
Jorge Luis Borges – Elegy for a Park
refining the marshes where gardens struck gold in the muck of ages and though time pieces fail, yet there is honeysuckle tendrils can always tangle up a jungle maze erasing boundaries beyond limitation a strange creation now with the labyrinth gone Asterion bewildered by such sudden wilderness harnessed man and beast to seven sisterly stars each Fall discharging balefully with fine meteoric ire fireballs of Halloween where the fleet periodic comet posits over and again indivisibility of an eliptical river one mirador with cursory views of long gone faces can yet trace all who've outlived reflection some are still here to hear the silent fountain fortune's rusty squeak of roundabout and swing giddy giggling children buried in nettles tennis balls mislaid and rope moldering in a rubbish skip I go tip-toeing around nostalgia for the lost park
Adding my versifying voice to the Poetry Pantry
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