Poems by Jorge Luis Borges

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Was there a Garden or was the Garden a dream?
In these red labyrinths of London
Oh destiny of Borges
Throughout the course of the generations
If I could live again my life,
Of all the streets that blur in to the sunset,
Free of memory and of hope,
When sorrow lays us low
With lingering love she gazed at the dispersed
Oh days devoted to the useless burden
To gaze at a river made of time and water
A tiger comes to mind. The twilight here
Mirrors are not more silent
We are the time. We are the famous

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