Mi mente es increible (La Belle Dame Sans Merci II)

Hace unos años descubrí una página web de fotografía ( http://www.viona-art.com). De vez en cuando miro las cosas nuevas que hacen. Aparte de sesiones fotgráficas también hacen eventos en palacios de ensueño, mascaradas... Y desde entonces mi sueño es comprarme un vestido precioso y poder ir alguna vez a alguno de esas maravillosas veladas.
Sueños aparte, ayer entré para cotillear un poco. ¡Qué sorpresa me llevé al descubrir el tema de las fotografías más recientes:La Belle Dame Sans Merci!



Así que algo me está diciendo que escriba el romance entero

O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.
II. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms!	5
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
III. I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,	10
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
IV. I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,	15
And her eyes were wild.
V. I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look’d at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.	20
VI. I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.
VII. She found me roots of relish sweet,	25
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
“I love thee true.”
VIII. She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore,	30
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
IX. And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d	35
On the cold hill’s side.
X. I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”	40
XI. I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.
XII. And this is why I sojourn here,	45
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.

No sé por qué, pero me pasa muchas veces eso de pensar en una cosa y que luego ocurra. "Hace mucho que no ponen tal capítulo de los simpsons", "Sería curioso encontrarme a fulanito".
Creo que mi sangre gallega ha comenzado a ganarle terreno a la sangre alemana, y es que las mujeres de mi familia gallega siempre han tenido fama de meigas.