不幸的是，我是博爾赫斯

時間是一條載我飛逝的大河，而我就是這條大河；它是一隻毀滅的老虎，而我就是這老虎；它是一堆吞噬我的火焰，而我就是這火焰。不幸的是，世界是真實的；不幸的是，我是博爾赫斯。

我是博爾赫斯

你不是別人

你怯懦地祈助的

別人的著作救不了你

你不是別人，此刻你正身處

自己的腳步編織起的迷宮的中心之地

耶穌或者蘇格拉底

所經歷的磨難救不了你

就連日暮時分在花園裡圓寂的

佛法無邊的悉達多也於你無益

你手寫的文字，口出的言辭

都像塵埃一般一文不值

命運之神沒有憐憫之心

上帝的長夜沒有盡期

你的肉體只是時光，不停流逝的時光

你不過是每一個孤獨的瞬息

月亮—— 給瑪麗亞·兒玉

（西川 譯）

那片黃金中有如許的孤獨。

眾多的夜晚，那月亮不是先人亞當

望見的月亮。在漫長的歲月里

守夜的人們已用古老的悲哀

將她填滿。看她，她是你的明鏡。

兩首英文詩

黎明在空寂的街角找到我，我比黑夜更長久。

夜是盛情的海浪，它那深藍的、頭重腳輕的波浪述說著深土的層層顏色、承載著不真實和渴望。

夜總是偷偷的恩賜和拒絕，給予你有所保留的事物，給予你一個黑暗半球的欣欣向榮。這是夜的習慣，我告訴你。

夜的碎波留下了無關緊要的日常瑣碎：一兩個泛泛之交、夢中的音樂和苦澀灰燼的煙霧。我饑渴的心百無一用。

這洶湧的浪帶來了你。

言語、言語、你的笑聲和你那如此慵懶的令人如痴如醉的美麗。我們促膝而談、直到你開始忘記了你的詞語。

絕望的黎明走進了我的城市，來到了我所在的孤寂的街道。

你轉過身的側影、組成你名字的旋律、你爽朗的笑聲：你殘留的美麗我仍意猶未盡。

我將你的一切交給黎明，我失去了它們；我向走失的荒狗講述、我向晨曦時零散的星星講述。

你那隱蔽而豐富的一生 ...

我要設法得到你：撇開那些你留給我的迷人的表象，我要你所隱藏的容貌，你真實的笑顏容- 那冰冷的、嘲弄的笑容，只有你的鏡子知道。

TWO ENGLISH POEMS

Por Jorge Luis Borges (1934)

I.

The useless dawn finds me in a deserted streetcorner; I have outlived the night.

Nights are proud waves: darkblue top heavy waves laden with all hues of deep spoil, laden with things unlikely and desirable.

Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals, of things half given away, half withheld, of joys with a dark hemisphere. Nights act that way, I tell you.

The surge, that night, left me the customary shreds and odd ends: some hated friends to chat with, music for dreams, and the smoking of bitter ashes. The things my hungry heart has no use for.

The big wave brought you.

Words, any words, your laughter; and you so lazily and incessantly beautiful. We talked and you have forgotten the words.

The shattering dawn finds me in a deserted street of my city.

Your profile turned away, the sounds that go to make your name, the lilt of your laughter: these are the illustrious toys you have left me.

I turn them over in the dawn, I lose them; I tell them to the few stray dogs and to the few stray stars of the dawn

Your dark rich life…

I must get at you, somehow: I put away those illustrious toys you have left me, I want your hidden look, your real smile –that

lonely, mocking smile your mirror knows.

我用什麼才能留住你

我給你瘦落的街道、絕望的落日、荒郊的月亮。

我給你一個長久地望著孤月的人的悲哀。

我給你我已死去的祖輩，後人們用大理石祭奠的先魂：我父親的父親，陣亡於布宜諾斯艾利斯的邊境，兩顆子彈射穿了他的胸膛，死的時候蓄著鬍子，屍體被士兵們用牛皮裹起；我母親的祖父——那年才二十四歲——在秘魯率領三百人衝鋒，如今都成了消失的馬背上的亡魂。

我給你我的書中所能蘊含的一切悟力，以及我生活中所能有的男子氣概和幽默。

我給你一個從未有過信仰的人的忠誠。

我給你我設法保全的我自己的核心——不營字造句，不和夢交易，不被時間、歡樂和逆境觸動的核心。

我給你早在你出生前多年的一個傍晚看到的一朵黃玫瑰的記憶。

我給你關於你生命的詮釋，關於你自己的理論，你的真實而驚人的存在。

我給你我的寂寞、我的黑暗、我心的饑渴；我試圖用困惑、危險、失敗來打動你。

TWO ENGLISH POEMS

Por Jorge Luis Borges (1934)

II.

What can I hold you with?

I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the 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 ghost that living men have honored 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 charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.

I offer you whatever insight my books may hold, whatever manliness humour my life.

I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.

I offer her that kernel of myself that I have saved, somehow – the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.

I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.

I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.

I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

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