Jorge Luis Borges: “Things”

Things

My keychain, lock, spare coins, and cane,
the board on which these cards are spread,
the late reminders that will never get read
in these last few days of mine that remain,

a book inside of which is pressed
some violet, souvenir of a day grown rotten,
undeniable, unforgettable, and yet forgotten,
a ruby mirror facing west

in which burns the fiction of a morning sky.
Things!  Windows, files, cups, maps, and staves,
all serving us like implicit slaves,

yet lacking vision and strangely sly.
Beyond our oblivion, these things labor on,
never noticing that we are gone.

Jorge Luis Borges

Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2013
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s