FORGING

Like a blind man with ancient, mythical hands
that set aside walls and glimpse skies,
slowly with embarrassment,
on split, uneven nights,
I feel the verses come.
I have to burn the formidable shadow
in the limpid flame:
purple words
on the flagellated back of time.
I must enclose the weeping of the ages
in the hard diamond of the poem.
It does not matter that my soul
walks alone and naked like the wind
as long as the universe still spans my life
with a glorious kiss
and in the quiet stillness, a cry rages.

To sow verses in the night
is like a farmer planting the land.

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FORJADURA

Como un ciego de manos precursoras
que apartan muros y vislumbran cielos,
lento de azoramiento voy palpando
por las noches hendidas
los versos venideros.
He de quermar la sombra formidable
en su límpida hoguera:
púrpura de palabras
sobre la espalda flagelada del tiempo.
He de encerrar el llanto de los siglos
en el duro diamante del poema.
Nada importa que el alma
ande sola y desnuda como el viento
si el universo de un glorioso beso
aún abarca mi vida
y en lo callado se embravece un grito.

Para ir sembrando versos
la noche es una tierra labrantíia.

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BRIEF NOTES

A very interesting poem about the process of creating a poem! From the first published work of Argentine author Jorge Luis Borges, Fervor De Buenos Aires, a book of 45 relatively short poems released in 1923, when he was 23 years old.

Interestingly I could not find this poem carried over to later editions of Fervor De Buenos Aires. I did see some online versions from various anthologies, but evidently Borges decided not to include this poem from the original Fervor in the later, much changed, editions. The fact that this is a hard poem to find makes it extra special to me!

And perhaps because I write poems myself, and love poetry of all types from all ages, I also think it is a beautiful, extraordinary work! And so I am altogether thrilled to present it here on my blog!

In this translation, I did take some minor liberties, poetic license you might say! I started reading Borges back when I was a teenager, so the changes I made are small and inline with his general view of the world.

Other than that, the only line that might cause some misunderstanding is “purple words”. There is a phrase from Roman times, “purple prose”, which usually refers to overly ornate language. It may mean that, Borges loves to throw paradoxes and contradictions into his works. Or it might be implying the symbolic meaning behind the color purple which could be wisdom, or intuition, among other things. Or it might be a colloquial expression from his times. Or it could imply all three, multiple implications, something that all poets, not only Borges, may do. I am not sure, so you will have to make your own mind up!

Enjoy and please let me know what you think!