La Recoleta - Buenos Aires - March 2017

Para siempre cerraste alguna puerta

y hay un espejo que te aguarda en vano;

la encrucijada te parece abierta

y la vigila, cuadrifronte, Jano.

Límites – Jorge Luís Borges

There is a door you have closed forever

And some mirror is expecting you in vain;

To you the crossroads seem wide open,

Yet watching you, four-faced, is a Janus.

The above is from a poem by Jorge Luís Borges called Límites. He wrote two versions, a short one and a longer one. Above is part of the long one. In my recent trip to Buenos Aires the word finality was in my mind. I thought of the Borges poem particularly when he writes about a mirror that will not ever reflect his image again. Mortality at age 74 is in my face and an almost constant thought. I try to grapple with the idea of non existence. Thinking that before I was born is sort of a non-existence does not help in understanding death. 

Of late I am trying to be kinder and less confrontational. I am wearing my wrist watch on my right wrist to remind me to be kind to my Rosemary. When I feel like saying something nasty I am increasingly becoming proud of myself for staying quiet. Borges, gentle Borges, helps.

Límites narrado por Jorge Luís Borges