Doc, I know that it was from you that I first encountered this story, and that it inspired in me a lasting love of Borges. For many years, when I maintained a large library, I had all his volumes available in English, which is how I encountered other translations of "Everything and Nothing." That got me interested in the problem of translation, because it was so easy with Borges's parables to see/hear what kinds of meanings were obscured and what kinds of meanings were enhanced in different translations. But the one I've reproduced here--the Irby translation in LABYRINTHS, is the one that reads the best out loud, in my view, and I believe it's the one you first introduced to us.
Love, Mike On Wed, Apr 24, 2019 at 9:24 AM James Ayres <jay...@cvctx.com> wrote: > 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 > >
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