anterior   aleatorio / random   subir   inicio / home   siguiente / next


The silent friendliness of the moon
(misquoting Virgil) accompanies you
since that one night or evening lost
in time now, on which your restless
eyes first deciphered her forever
in a garden or patio turned to dust.
Forever? I know someone, someday
will be able to tell you truthfully:
You’ll never see the bright moon again,
You’ve now achieved the unalterable
sum of moments granted you by fate.
Useless to open every window
in the world. Too late. You’ll not find her.

We live discovering and forgetting
that sweet familiarity of the night.
Take a long look. It might be the last.


Jorge Luis Borges, 1981
Translation by A. S. Kline

subir   poema aleatorio   La cifra (1981)   siguiente / next   anterior / previous
español Original version