Museum



Φ

There is a line in Verlaine I shall not recall again,

There is a street close by forbidden to my feet,

There’s a mirror that’s seen me for the very last time,

There is a door that I have locked till the end of the world.

Among the books in my library (I have them before me)

There are some that I shall never open now.

This summer I complete my fiftieth year;

Death is gnawing at me ceaselessly.

Julio Platero Haedo: Inscripciones (Montevideo, 1923)

[From Dreamtigers, by Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Harold Morland]