OBEISANCE TO JORGE LUIS BORGES

Juan Carlos Soto
Publicado en Capital Letter No. 3
Mayo de 2003


A year ago, I was reading the magazine ANONYMA and, to my surprise, I found a short space dedicated to the Argentinean writer Jorge Luis Borges. I observed in detail the illustration that accompanied those beautiful words. Then, the muse of literature came here in order to inspire me these unpretending words I want to share with you. I wrote them in Spanish first, and now I dare to translate my poem into English. I hope they keep their deep sense, and you, dear reader, do agree with the essence, the sublimation of Borges. Here it is:

Borges is waiting for himself,

wishing to see himself coming and not to feel alone anymore

there he is sat in a whatsoever corner of his beloved Buenos Aires.

The mistake here is that he is alone,

The mistake here is that the light has left his eyes,

The mistake is that he will never arrive to that meeting pacted in

the crevices of his prodigious memory,

and if he luckily arrives, he won't be able to distinguish

between the young Borges,

haughty, fearless, eager of words,

the young man who knows everything,

and the other, the wise Borges from the end of time,

a modest, prudent old man who, with no pretension,

only the immortality of his words,

is waiting patiently for the fall of the night,

lighted by the moon of the Llanura Gaucha.

Be a little more patient dear Borges

Because as soon as possible, and without your notice,

Your whole life will converge in a unique place,

The one you longed for a long time ago.

There, those will wait for you,

The other men you are,

The ancient Borges,

The young one,

The Borges who is sitting here,

The Borges who will be immortal.