Monday, June 18, 2012


There is a line of Verlaine I will never remember
There is another street I can no longer walk down
There is a face in the mirror I have seen for the very last time
There is a door that is closed until the end of the world.
Among the books of my library (I am seeing them now)
There are some that will never be read.
This summer I will be fifty:
Death consumes me, constantly. 
 ---Jorge Luis Borges 

translation of Borges' 'Limites' by Rebecca Walker

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