Via Maud Newton: Some that will never be read

maudnewton:

Limits

There is a line of Verlaine I will never remember

There is another street I can no longer walk down

There is a face in the mirror I have seen for the very last time

There is a door that is closed until the end of the world.

Among the books of my library (I am seeing them now)

There are some that will never be read.

This summer I will be fifty: 

Death consumes me, constantly. 

 —Jorge Luis Borges, trans. Rebecca Walker;original

Image of Borges, Hôtel des Beaux Arts, Paris, by Pepe Fernández, 1969

Your daily uplift; courtesy Maud.