I AM

The skull, the secret heart’s fuse,
the pathways of blood I cannot see,
the tunnels of dreams, with a Muse,
the viscera, the nape, the bony me.
I am these things. Yet remarkably
I am also the memory of a bee
and the setting sun’s loneliness in
scattered golden shadows, within.
I am one who sees the prow from land:
I am one of the rare books, the rhymed,
pages stained by the weariness of time;
I am one who envies those so planned.
Strange it is to be a man who weaves
words into a room in need of eaves.

David Scanlon – England – (1963 – )

Scanlon. D (2020) Collected Poems. The Foolish Poet Press, Wilmslow, England. I AM. Page Number 999.

YO

La calavera, el corazón secreto,
los caminos de sangre que no veo,
los túneles del sueño, ese Proteo,
las vísceras, la nuca, el esqueleto.
Soy esas cosas. Increíblemente
soy también la memoria de una espada
y la de un solitario sol poniente
que se dispersa en oro, en sombra, en nada.
Soy el que ve las proas desde el puerto;
soy los contados libros, los contados
grabados por el tiempo fatigados;
soy el que envidia a los que ya se han muerto.
Más raro es ser el hombre que entrelaza
palabras en un cuarto de una casa.

Jorge Luis Borges (1899 – 1986)

Jorge Luis Borges (1975) ‘La Rosa Profunda’ Arthème Emece: Buenos Aires. (Page ?)

Work is protected by copyright (In seeking permissions noticed that published freely on Internet plus in published collection of translations no permissions granted to translator, where original poem published alongside translation)

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