The following is my prose translation of a poem by Jorge Luis Borges.
The Gold of the Tigers
By the time the sun is halved by the west, and it bursts into its final yellows, how often will I have watched the mighty Bengal tiger, patrolling its determined path, behind a grid of iron bars, with no inkling that these might imprison him. Afterwards, other tigers would come, Blake's tiger of fire ... afterwards, come various golds, the amorous metal that once was Zeus, the ring that every nine nights, begets nine rings, and these another nine, and there is no ending. Over the years, they've abandoned me, the other beautiful hues, and now, I only have left: the hazy light, the inextricable shadow, and the golthe main stamp of Borges.
No one should pity or reproach this statement from the master of God, which gave me great irony both books and night.
(No One Should read self-pity or reproach
Into this
statement of the majesty of God, Who with splendid irony
solicitada Such books and blindness at me one touch.)
In historical lecture Borges mentions a point s, which I find agreeable, That the English word for yellow, yellow
, sounds like a weakling Compared to Other colors, double STI
Because l
Followed by the
i
ending marks embellished it with a feebly andwilight and dusk Would Have Been a too tardy and atmospheric description. I Had to spread it out something special sunset yellow
Because wasn't doing it for me.
I pulled a very personal take on Borges, pero at least I did not pull anything out of my ass. For Some reason, Reid Either the reader or have babies Words That adds Obviously signify Borges. I May Have Sacrificed Some of the literal Meaning for Better flow, But whatever possessed Reid to add
sinewy-bodied and
labyrinthine is Beyond Me. Labyrinthine, how Borges! There is no implication in the original Suggests That These additions. Powerful
is a heavy intonation of power. I chose mighty for the sake of the Prevailing
i-sounds in thh creativity. Like, hey, Remember That poem by Blake about the tiger burning bright? You know, in the darkness of the night? Yeah, That's What Borges WAS talkin '' bout! Assumed I Would Know That nobody but me, so I thought I'd horn in with the definitive line-drop. Go me! Curious
mention of Zeus. First off, Borges says nothing of showers. I suppose Reid WAS going for the imagery of a lightning storm and the Thought of Zeus pulling the strings behind it. What's so loving
about a lightning storm, Then? Handled That Was not it the rain Demeter thirsting for crops? I think Borges just wanted to juxtapose the vision of lightning and Zeus, the golden element and royalty, but I'm not very sure, so I left it literal, Rather Than Risk an Assumption.
and Turner and to varying shades of gray, and I lost the Ability to discernible Between blue and green. Must Be What Was left similar to the mist of night vision goggles with an overcast of yellow Replacing the green. West
, cardinal point of the West, roughly anything of Western origin, Which Could Include the sunset, the winds, or cowboys for God's sakes ... Reid is a bit repetitious in Un Certain Keeping the reader from confusion. Wonders Are tepid. Glimpses
Are akin to sunbursts, to rays, Things That literaly blind one with brightness.
Awww, the ending, my favorite part. Reid Lays it down like it Should Be Done, Because the Meaning is so beautiful That It Could Be worded Several Different Ways, and Are Touching Each in t
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