Sunday, April 17, 2011



I will not be happy now. It may not matter.
There are so many more things in the world.
Any random instant is as crowded
and varied as the sea. A life is brief,
and though the hours seem long, there is another
dark mystery that lies in wait for us
-death, that other sea, that other arrow
that frees us from the sun, the moon, and love.

The happiness you gave me once and later
took back from me will be obliterated.
That which was everything must turn to nothing.
I only keep the taste of my own sadness
and a vain urge that turns me to the Southside,
to a certain corner there, a certain door.

Translated from the Spanish. Page 217. Jorge Luis Borges, Selected Poems

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