No quieter is the image in the mirror,
nor does the dawn arrive more furtively
than, underneath the moon, this creeping panther
that from afar is granted us to see.
Remoter than the Ganges or the sunset,
you vanish, hidden by decree divine;
yours is the solitude, and yours the secret;
you seek us, or we look for you in vain.
Your haunches condescend to the delinquent
touch of my fingertips. You understand,
from some eternal place, unknown but ancient,
the love contained in the mistrustful hand.
Elsewhere in time you live. You reign supreme,
lord of a desert bounded like a dream.
- Jorge Luis Borges, "A un gato", 1972
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Thanks for the translation
ReplyDelete