Jorge Luis Borges

To a Coin Cold and stormy the night I sailed from Montevideo. As we rounded the Cerro, I threw from the upper deck a coin that glinted and winked out in the muddy water, a gleam of light swallowed by time and darkness. I felt I had committed an irrevocable act, adding to the history … Continue reading “Jorge Luis Borges”

To a Coin

Cold and stormy the night I sailed from Montevideo.
As we rounded the Cerro,
I threw from the upper deck
a coin that glinted and winked out in the muddy water,
a gleam of light swallowed by time and darkness.
I felt I had committed an irrevocable act,
adding to the history of the planet
two endless series, parallel, possibly infinite:
my own destiny, formed from anxieties, love and futile upsets
and that of that metal disk
carried away by the water to the quiet depths
or to far-off seas that still wear down
the leavings of Saxon and Viking.
Any moment of mine, asleep or wakeful,
matches a moment of the sightless coin’s.
At times I have felt remorse,
at others, envy
of you, existing, as we do, in time and its labyrinth,
but without knowing it.

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