I travel to the shattered fountain.
At night, when a strange fire burns in the cracks.
There lives a mouse who is the moon’s agent.
And we have conversations.

We listen to the fountain because it speaks no more.
The fire dancing in the cracks is a young woman.
She counsels us with sacred oracles.
Some children who are not born yet attend.

It is a wreck, the beautiful fountain of my heart.
Where the little mouse of the moon lives.
And the fires are the impossible girl.
Her speech warps time.