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Mostrando entradas de marzo 26, 2015

Jorge Luis Borges / Poesía

Un analizante, esta mañana, me envió por correo la siguiente línea: "Encontré el tema que me describió el estado de hoy, de todo lo que hablamos." El link de la canción está aquí. Pensando en el trabajo de duelo que conlleva una pérdida, recordé este poema.



What can I hold you with? I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of ragged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in marble: my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow; my mother’s grandfather –just twenty four- heading a charged of three hundred men in Peru, now ghosts on vanished horses.
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold, whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of mysel…

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