The Lover (the admirer) – Jorge Borges

December 14, 2015

Moons, ivories, instruments, roses,lamps and the line of Dürer, 

the nine figures and the variable zero,

I shall pretend that these things exist.
I shall pretend that in the past they were

Persepolis and Rome and that fine

sand measured the fate of the crenel

that the centuries of iron undid.

 

I shall pretend the arms and the pyre

of the epic and the heavy seas

that gnaw from the pillars of the Earth. 
I shall pretend there are others. It’s a lie.

It’s only you. You, my misfortune

and my fortune, inexhaustible and pure.

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

%d bloggers like this: