Jorge Luis Borges - Adrogue lyrics

Let no one in the indecipherable night fear that I shall lose my way among the borders of black flowers that weave a cloth of symbols appropriate to old nostalgic loves. or the sloth of afternoons-the hidden bird forever whittling the same thin song, the circular fountain and the summerhouse, the indistinct statue and the hazy ruins Hollow in the hollow shade, the coachhouse marks (I know) the insubstantial edges of this world of dust and jasmine, pleasing to Verlaine, pleasing to Julio Herrera. The eucalyptus trees bestow on the gloom their medicinal smell: that ancient balm that, beyond all time and ambiguity of language, speaks of vanished country houses. My footsteps seek and find the anticipated threshold. Its darkened limit is defined by the roof, and in the chessboard patio the water-tap drips intermittently On the other side of the door they sleep, those who through the medium of dreams watch over in the visionary shadows all that vast yesterday and all dead things. I know every single object of this old building: the flakes of mica on that gray stone reflected endlessly in the recesses of a faded mirror, And the lion's head that bites an iron ring and the multicolored window gla**, that reveals to a child the wonders of one world colored red and another colored green. Far beyond all chance and d**h they endure, each one with its particular story, but all this is happening in the strangeness of that fourth dimension, which is memory. In it and it alone do they exist The patios and the gardens. And the past preserves them in a circular preserve embracing all at once the dawn and the dusk. How could I lose that precise order of humble and beloved things, as inaccessible as the roses revealed to Adam in Paradise? The ancient aura of an elegy still haunts me when I think of that house and I do not understand how time can pa**, I, who am time and blood and agony.