The silent friendship of the moon
(I’m misquoting Virgil) is following you
ever since that night or afternoon,
now lost in time, when your shadowy
eyes understood her forever
in a garden or patio
now changed to dust.
Forever? I know someday, someone
will be able to tell you in truth:
“You will never see the bright moon again.
You have used up all the unalterable sum
of repetitions life has granted you.
It is useless now to open all
the windows of the world. Too late.
You will not find her there.”
We live discovering and forgetting
that sweet way of the night.
Take a good, long look at her.
It might be the last.
Jorge Luis Borges
Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2015
Photo by Man Ray