Jorge Luis Borges: “Afterglow”


The sunset is always moving
no matter how poor or flashy it is,
but still more moving
is the last, desperate glow
that turns the distant plains to rust
when the sun has finally sunk.
It hurts us to be with
that strange, tense light,
that hallucination
imposing itself upon space,
with our shared fear of shadows
and what suddenly ceases
when we see our error,
as a dream sometimes ceases
when we see we are dreaming.

Jorge Luis Borges

Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2015

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