J.L Borges — New England 1967

Feeling this and those last lines, especially.

New England 1967

The forms in my dreams have changed;

now there are red houses side by side

and the delicate bronze of the leaves

and chaste winter and pious wood.

As on the seventh day, the world

is good. In the twilight there persists

what’s almost non-existent, bold, sad,

an ancient murmur of Bibles, war.

Soon (they say) the first snow will fall

America waits for me on every street,

but I feel in the decline of evening

today so long, and yesterday so brief.

Buenos Aires, I go journeying

your streets, without time or reason.

 

– Borges

 

 

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