Jorge Luis Borges: Все стихи поэта

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El suicida

No quedará en la noche una estrella.

No quedará la noche.

Moriré y conmigo la suma

del intolerable universo.

Borraré las pirámides, las medallas,

los continentes y las caras.

Borraré la acumulación del pasado.

Haré polvo la historia, polvo el polvo.

Jorge Luis Borges

When sorrow lays us low

for a second we are saved

by humble windfalls

of the mindfulness or memory:

the taste of a fruit, the taste of water,

that face given back to us by a dream,

the first jasmine of November,

the endless yearning of the compass,

Jorge Luis Borges

Browning Decides To Be A Poet

In these red labyrinths of London

I find that I have chosen

the strangest of all callings,

save that, in its way, any calling is strange.

Like the alchemist

who sought the philosopher's stone

in quicksilver,

I shall make everyday words—

Jorge Luis Borges

The Other Tiger

A tiger comes to mind. The twilight here

Exalts the vast and busy Library

And seems to set the bookshelves back in gloom;

Innocent, ruthless, bloodstained, sleek

It wanders through its forest and its day

Printing a track along the muddy banks

Of sluggish streams whose names it does not know

(In its world there are no names or past

Jorge Luis Borges

Susana Soca

With lingering love she gazed at the dispersed

Colors of dusk. It pleased her utterly

To lose herself in the complex melody

Or in the cunous life to be found in verse.

lt was not the primal red but rather grays

That spun the fine thread of her destiny,

For the nicest distinctions and all spent

In waverings, ambiguities, delays.

Jorge Luis Borges

Instants

If I could live again my life,

In the next - I'll try,

- to make more mistakes,

I won't try to be so perfect,

I'll be more relaxed,

I'll be more full - than I am now,

In fact, I'll take fewer things seriously,

I'll be less hygenic,

Jorge Luis Borges

Adam Cast Forth

Was there a Garden or was the Garden a dream?

Amid the fleeting light, I have slowed myself and queried,

Almost for consolation, if the bygone period

Over which this Adam, wretched now, once reigned supreme,

Might not have been just a magical illusion

Of that God I dreamed. Already it's imprecise

In my memory, the clear Paradise,

But I know it exists, in flower and profusion,

Jorge Luis Borges

Elegy

Oh destiny of Borges

to have sailed across the diverse seas of the world

or across that single and solitary sea of diverse

names,

to have been a part of Edinburgh, of Zurich, of the

two Cordobas,

of Colombia and of Texas,

to have returned at the end of changing generations

Jorge Luis Borges

That One

Oh days devoted to the useless burden

of putting out of mind the biography

of a minor poet of the Southem Hemisphere,

to whom the fates or perhaps the stars have given

a body which will leave behind no child,

and blindness, which is semi-darkness and jail,

and old age, which is the dawn of death,

and fame, which absolutely nobody deserves,

Jorge Luis Borges

To a Cat

Mirrors are not more silent

nor the creeping dawn more secretive;

in the moonlight, you are that panther

we catch sight of from afar.

By the inexplicable workings of a divine law,

we look for you in vain;

More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun,

yours is the solitude, yours the secret.

Jorge Luis Borges

History Of The Night

Throughout the course of the generations

men constructed the night.

At first she was blindness;

thorns raking bare feet,

fear of wolves.

We shall never know who forged the word

for the interval of shadow

dividing the two twilights;

Jorge Luis Borges

The Art Of Poetry

To gaze at a river made of time and water

And remember Time is another river.

To know we stray like a river

and our faces vanish like water.

To feel that waking is another dream

that dreams of not dreaming and that the death

we fear in our bones is the death

that every night we call a dream.

Jorge Luis Borges