Thursday, March 14, 2013

From the great Argentine short-story writer, essayist, poet and translator Jorge Luis Borges  (Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo, 1899-1986)...

“After all these years I have observed that beauty, like happiness, is frequent. A day does not pass when we are not, for an instant, in paradise. There is no poet, however mediocre, who has not written the best line in literature, but also the most miserable ones. Beauty is not a privilege of a few illustrious names. It would be rare if this book did not contain one single line worthy of staying with you to the end.” –Jorge Luis Borges

The Dream 
by Jorge Luis Borges

While the clocks of the midnight hours are squandering
an abundance of time,
I shall go, farther than the shipmates of Ulysses,
to the territory of dream, beyond the reach
of human memory.
From that underwater world I save some fragments,
inexhaustible to my understanding:
grasses from some primitive botany,
animals of all kinds,
conversations with the dead,
faces which all the time are masks,
words out of very ancient languages,
and at times, horror, unlike anything
the day can offer us.
I shall be all or no one. I shall be the other
I am without knowing it, he who has looked on
that other dream, my waking state. He weighs it up,
resigned and smiling.

El sueño

Cuando los relojes de la media noche prodiguen
Un tiempo generoso,
Iré más lejos que los bogavantes de Ulises
A la región del sueño, inaccessible
A la memoria humana.
De esa region inmersa rescato restos
Que no acabo de comprender:
Hierbas de sencilla botánica,
Animales algo diversos,
Diálogos con los muertos,
Rostros que realmente son mascaras,
Palabras de lenguajes muy antiguos
Y a veces un horro incomparable
Al que nos puede dar el día.
Seré todos o nadie. Seré el otro
Que sin saberlo soy, el que ha mirado
Ese otro sueño, mik vigilia. La juzga,
Resignado y sonriente.