The poetic penguin café (1.9)
The coins, the stick, the keychain,
the ready lock, the late notes
that my meager days will never read,
the playing cards and the chessboard,
a book and among its pages wilted
the violet, a monument of one evening
certainly unforgettable and forgotten,
the red mirror to the west in which burns
illusory an aurora. How many things,
atlases, files, thresholds, goblets, nails,
serve us as silent slaves,
without gaze, strangely secret!
They will last longer than our oblivion;
they will never know that we have gone.
Jorge Luis Borges (1899 – 1986)
The Sound Of Someone You Love Who's Going Away And It Doesn't Matter (2008 Digital Remaster)
The coins, the stick, the keychain,
the ready lock, the late notes
that my meager days will never read,
the playing cards and the chessboard,
a book and among its pages wilted
the violet, a monument of one evening
certainly unforgettable and forgotten,
the red mirror to the west in which burns
illusory an aurora. How many things,
atlases, files, thresholds, goblets, nails,
serve us as silent slaves,
without gaze, strangely secret!
They will last longer than our oblivion;
they will never know that we have gone.
Jorge Luis Borges (1899 – 1986)
The Sound Of Someone You Love Who's Going Away And It Doesn't Matter (2008 Digital Remaster)
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