The poem
EVEN such is Time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wander'd all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.
I went on an inner journey into a forgotten life
And to my surprise I found a strange memory
A name came up in that moment of a long gone wife
It was in England a hard and ruthless century,
My name was for the time well known,
I remembered having written poetry for prosperity
About my adventures and courtings in a medieval town
Sailing over seas to new unknown territory.
My name still not forgotten until this day,
A fantasy or a memory? Who can say?