Midway this way of life we're bound upon,
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
Where the right road was wholly lost and gone.
Ay me! how hard to speak of it - that rude
And rough and stubborn forest! the mere breath
Of memory stirs the old fear in the blood
It is so bitter, it goes nigh to death;
Yet there I gained such good, that to convey
The tale, I'll write what else I found therewith.
Poem by Dante from The Divine Comedy I: Hell
Translated by D.L. Sayers
Photo and Mixed Media Installation by Sandra Saldanha
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