Rain | Borges

∞ Author, 1960

The Maker

rain

Suddenly the dusk became bright

Because there is a drizzle falling at the moment

Or once fell. Rain

Undoubtedly something that happened in the past.

Whoever sees the rain falling remembers

At that time, happy fate

Presented to him was a flower called a rose

And its wonderful, bright red color.

This blinded the window glass with a drizzle

It will be in the abandoned countryside

Wash it in a courtyard that no longer exists

Black grapes on the shelf. Wet twilight

Bring me a voice, the voice I long for,

My father came back, he didn't die.

As we all know, this fickle life

Between so many things, there is everything beautiful

So there was some kind of dusk to spend with her

We will gaze at you, Oh the moon to be shared.

—Translated by Borges | Chen Dongbiao

—Reading and Rereading—

Rain

Abruptly the afternoon has cleared

because the meticulous rain is already falling.

Falls or falls. Rain is one thing

which certainly happens in the past.

Whoever hears it fall has recovered

the time when luck is windy

revealed to him a flower called rose

and the curious color of the colorado.

This rain that blinds the crystals

will cheer in lost suburbs

the black grapes of a vine in a certain

patio that no longer exists. The wet

late brings me the voice, the desired voice,

of my father who returns and who has not died.

Chen Dongbiao translation and others

Caption by Daria Khoroshavina

behance.net/barelungs