Ewigkeit, By Jorge Luis Borges

Turn on my tongue, O Spanish verse; confirm

Once more what Spanish verse has always said

Since Seneca’s black Latin; speak your dread

Sentence that all is fodder for the worm.

Come, celebrate once more pale ash, pale dust,

The pomps of death and the triumphant crown

Of that bombastic queen who tramples down

The petty banners of our pride and lust.

Enough of that. What things have blessed my clay

Let me not cravenly deny. The one

Word of no meaning is Oblivion.

And havened in eternity, I know

My many precious losses burn and stay:

That forge, that night, that risen moon aglow.

TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY RICHARD WILBUR

From “World Poetry,” edited by Katharine Washburn, John S. Major and Clifton Fadiman (W.W. Norton: 1,338 pp., $45)