Poems of the Night
Jorge Luis Borges
"Now he is a handful of dust and glory." That is the final line of the final poem of this Penguin Classics selection of poems by Jorge Luis Borges, "Sepulchral Inscription," of Poems of the Night, as translated by Robert Fitzgerald. (The original Spanish is the headline of this review.) It serves as an epitaph for Borges himself.
I have a new favorite poet. Here is how one of his most famous poems, "Insomnio," begins
De fierro,
de encorvados tirantes de enorme fierro tiene que ser la noche,
para que no la revienten y la desfonden
las muchas cosas que mis abarrotados ojos han visto,
las duras cosas que insoportablemente la pueblan.*
It is, I think, very characteristic of Borges. If you think about it, it is hard to understand. What does it mean to say, "The night must be made of iron"? And yet, if I DON'T think about it, it is completely clear. When I read, "De fierro tiene que ser la noche," I don't ask myself what that means. I KNOW instantly exactly what Borges is saying. ((In this Borges contrasts with Rilke. When I think about what Rilke is saying, it is obscure. But it is also obscure if I don't think about it.) I read Borges and think, "Yeah! Inject that stuff right into my brain!"
I could go on quoting Borges for pages, but I will restrain myself. It's brilliant. Read it!
*Insomnia
Of iron
of bent struts of enormous iron the night must be made
to hold in all the things that have crowded my eyes
all the hard things that try unbearably
to burst her sides and bottom
Comments
Post a Comment
Add a comment!