Thanks Mike. I had dinner with him one evening in the ‘60’s when he was a visiting prof in Spanish. After that I read this piece to all of my semester classes on the final day.
Doc Sent from my iPhone > On Apr 23, 2019, at 11:00 PM, Mike Godwin <mnemo...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > As a special Happy Birthday wish, let me share with you my favorite > translation of Borges's "Everything and Nothing": > > Everything and Nothing > > THERE was no one in him; behind his face (which even through the bad > paintings of those times resembles no other) and his words, which were > copious, fantastic and stormy, there was only a bit of coldness, a dream > dreamt by no one. At first he thought that all people were like him, but the > astonishment of a friend to whom he had begun to speak of this emptiness > showed him his error and made him feel always that an individual should not > differ in outward appearance. Once he thought that in books he would find a > cure for his ill and thus he learned the small Latin and less Greek a > contemporary would speak of; later he considered that what he sought might > well be found in an elemental rite of humanity, and let himself be initiated > by Anne Hathaway one long June afternoon. At the age of twenty-odd years he > went to London. Instinctively he had already become proficient in the habit > of simulating that he was someone, so that others would not discover his > condition as no one; in London he found the profession to which he was > predestined, that of the actor, who on a stage plays at being another before > a gathering of people who play at taking him for that other person. His > histrionic tasks brought him a singular satisfaction, perhaps the first he > had ever known; but once -the last verse had been acclaimed and the last dead > man withdrawn from the stage, the hated flavour of unreality returned to him. > He ceased to be Ferrex or Tamberlane and became no one again. Thus hounded, > he took to imagining other heroes and other tragic fables. And so, while his > flesh fulfilled its destiny as flesh in the taverns and brothels of London, > the soul that inhabited him was Caesar, who disregards the augur's > admonition, and Juliet. who abhors the lark, and Macbeth, who converses on > the plain with the witches who are also Fates. No one has ever been so many > men as this man who like the Egyptian Proteus could exhaust all the guises of > reality. At times he would leave a confession hidden away in some corner of > his work, certain that it would not be deciphered; Richard affirms that in > his person he plays the part of many and Iago claims with curious words 'I am > not what I am'. The fundamental identity of existing, dreaming and acting > inspired famous passages of his. > > For twenty years he persisted in that controlled hallucination, but one > morning he was suddenly gripped by the tedium and the terror of being so many > kings who die by the sword and so many suffering lovers who converge, diverge > and melodiously expire. That very day he arranged to sell his theatre. > Within.. a week he had returned to his native village, where he recovered the > trees and rivers of his childhood and did not relate them to the others his > muse had celebrated, illustrious with mythological allusions and Latin terms. > He had to be 'someone: he was a retired impresario who had made his fortune > and concerned himself with loans, lawsuits and petty usury. It was in this > character that he dictated the arid will and testament known to us, from > which he deliberately excluded all traces of pathos or literature. His > friends from London would visit his retreat and for them he would take up > again his role as poet. > > History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of > God and told Him: 'I who have been so many men in vain want to be one and > myself.' The voice of the Lord answered from a whirlwind: 'Neither am I > anyone; I have dreamt the world as you dreamt your work, my Shakespeare, and > among the forms in my dream are you, who like myself are many and no one.' > From Jorge Luis Borges Labyrinths (Penguin, 2000) Trans. J. E. Irby. > > > (For your reference, here are links to a couple of other translations. People > like to try their hand at translating this piece a lot. > http://www.ronnowpoetry.com/contents/borges/EverythingandNothing.html > https://thefloatinglibrary.com/2008/07/30/everything-and-nothing-edit/ ) > > Happy Birthday, Will! > > Love, > Mike
_______________________________________________ Winedale-l mailing list Winedale-l@lists.wikimedia.org https://lists.wikimedia.org/mailman/listinfo/winedale-l
