Vertaling Mourning
Lost. Black. Grey Colorless. End of teh road: a wall stops you. Nothing is right anymore. Dead end. You can't get over it,or under it. It holds you. A trap.
Bald – rags. All the joy, all sense of honour, is gone. Sadness, angry, impotence, the future seems off.
Bent or broken?
Only a trace of through-flowing light by what missing stones in the wall.