Desde uno de tus patios haber mirado
las antiguas estrellas,
desde el banco de la sombra haber mirado
esas luces dispersas
que mi ignorancia no ha aprendido a nombrar
ni a ordenar en contelaciones,
haber sentido el circulo del agua
en el secreto aljibe,
el olor del jazmin y la madreselva,
el silencio del pájaro
dormido, el arco del zanguán, la hemedad
–esas cosas, acaso, son el poema.
Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), de la edición 1969 de Fervor de Buenos Aires
– – –
The South
To have watched from one of your patios
the ancient stars,
from the bench of shadow to have watched
those scattered lights
that my ignorance has learned no names for
nor their places in constellations,
to have heard the note of water
in the cistern,
known the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle,
the silence of the sleeping bird,
the arch of the entrance, the damp
– these things perhaps are the poem.
(translation by William Merwin)