Jorge Luis Borges
Jorge Luis Borges Poems
|2.||Browning Decides To Be A Poet||12/31/2002|
|5.||The Other Tiger||1/3/2003|
|6.||We Are The Time. We Are The Famous||1/1/2004|
|7.||Adam Cast Forth||5/10/2001|
|9.||Remorse For Any Death||12/31/2002|
|11.||To A Cat||12/31/2002|
|12.||History Of The Night||12/31/2002|
|15.||The Art Of Poetry||1/3/2003|
Comments about Jorge Luis Borges
It opens, the gate to the garden
with the docility of a page
that frequent devotion questions
and inside, my gaze
has no need to fix on objects
that already exist, exact, in memory.
I know the customs and souls
and that dialect of allusions
that every human gathering goes weaving.
I've no need to speak
nor claim false privilege;
they know me well who surround me here,
know well my afflictions and weakness.
This is to reach the highest thing,
that Heaven perhaps will grant us:
not admiration or victory
but simply to be accepted
as part of an ...
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.
Lacking the nerve to tread this treacherous