Poets Corner: A Compass by Jorge Luis Borges (translated by Richard Wilbur) All things are words of some strange tongue, in thrall To Someone, Something, who both day and night Proceeds in endless gibberish to write The history of the world. In that dark scrawl Rome is set down, and Carthage, I, you, all And this my being which escapes me quite, My anguished life thats cryptic, recondite, And garbled as the tongues of Babels fall. Beyond the name there lies what has no name; Today I have felt its shadow stir the aim Of this blue needle, light and keen, whose sweep Homes to the utmost of the sea its love, Suggestive of a watch in dreams, or of Some bird, perhaps, who shifts a bit in sleep.
Posted on: Wed, 18 Jun 2014 02:16:48 +0000
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