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Borges y yo

Alfred /
  • Created on 2018-07-30 14:38:07
  • Modified on 2018-07-30 14:38:15
  • Translated by Ilan Stavans
  • Aligned by Alfred
Al otro , a Borges , es a quien le ocurren las cosas . Yo camino por Buenos Aires y me demoro , acaso ya mecánicamente , para mirar el arco de un zaguán y la puerta cancel ; de Borges tengo noticias por el correo y veo su nombre en una terna de profesores o en un diccionario biográfico . Me gustan los relojes de arena , los mapas , la tipografía del siglo xviii , las etimologías , el sabor del café y la prosa de Stevenson ; el otro comparte esas preferencias , pero de un modo vanidoso que las convierte en atributos de un actor . Seria exagerado afirmar que nuestra relación es hostil ; yo vivo , yo me dejo vivir , para que Borges pueda tramar su literatura y esa literatura me justifica . Nada me cuesta confesar que ha logrado ciertas páginas válidas , pero esas páginas no me pueden salvar , quizá porque lo bueno ya no es de nadie , ni siquiera del otro , sino del lenguaje o la tradición . Por lo demás , yo estoy destinado a perderme , definitivamente , y sólo algún instante de mi podrá sobrevivir en el otro . Poco a poco voy cediéndole todo , aunque me consta su perversa costumbre de falsear y magnificar .

Spinoza entendió que todas las cosas quieren perseverar en su ser ; la piedra eternamente quiere ser piedra y el tigre un tigre . Yo he de quedar en Borges , no en ( si es que alguien soy ) , pero me reconozco menos en sus libros que en muchos otros o que en el laborioso rasgueo de una guitarra . Hace años yo traté de librarme de él y pasé de las mitologías del arrabal a los juegos con el tiempo y con lo infinito , pero esos juegos son de Borges ahora y tendré que idear otras cosas . Así mi vida es una fuga y todo lo pierdo y todo es del olvido , o del otro .

No cuál de los dos escribe esta página .
The other one , Borges , is to whom things happen . I walk through Buenos Aires , stop , maybe a bit mechanically , to look at the arch of an entrance way and a grillwork door ; I have news from Borges by mail or when I see his name in a list of professors or in a biographical dictionary . I like hourglasses , maps , 18th-century typography , the taste of coffee , and Stevenson’s prose ; the other shares those preferences but with a vanity that turns them into an actor’s attributes . It would be an exaggeration to affirm that our relationship is hostile ; I live , I let myself live , so that Borges can plot his literature and that literature justifies me . It doesn’t cost me anything to confess he has achieved a few valid pages , but those pages can’t save me , perhaps because what’s good no longer belongs to anyone , not even to the other , but to language and traditions . In any case , I’m destined to be lost , definitively , and just some instant of me will survive in the other . Little by little I cede everything , even though I’m aware of his perverse tendency to falsify and pontificate . Spinoza understood that all things want to be preserved in their being : the stone eternally wants to be a stone and the tiger a tiger . I shall remain in Borges , not in myself ( if I am someone ) , but I recognize myself less in his books than in many others and in the laborious strumming of a guitar . Years ago I tried freeing myself from him and went from the mythologies of the arrabal to the games with time and the infinite , but those games are Borges’ now and I shall come up with other things . Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion , or to the other . I don’t know which of the two writes this page .

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legal docs

Gabriel Mtz /

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Xiang Li /
  • Created on 2022-07-25 15:50:13
  • Aligned by Xiang Li

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Alamat ng Buwan at mga Bituin

Sarah Svahn /
  • Created on 2023-04-22 23:20:26
  • Modified on 2023-04-25 01:56:48
  • Aligned by Sarah Svahn
Alamat ng Buwan at mga Bituin
Noong unang panahon ay mababang-mababa ang langit at walang buwan ni bituin . Bakit kaya tumaas ang langit ? Narito sa alamat na ito ang mga sagot .

Si Maria at ang kanyang nanay ay nakatira sa isang bahay-kubo . Si Maria ay may suklay na ginto at kuwintas na may butil-butil na ginto . Halos araw-araw ay isinusukat niya ang suklay at kuwintas at tinitingnan niya sa kanyang anino sa tubig kung siya ay maganda .

Isang araw nang isinusukat ni Maria ang suklay at ang kuwintas ay tinawag siya ng kanyang nanay .

" Maria , magbayo ka ng palay , " ang wika ng ina .

" Opo , " ang sagot ni Maria , nguni ' t hindi siya kumilos .

" Maria , magmadali ka , " ang tawag na muli ng matanda . " Wala tayong bigas na isasaing . "

" Opo , sandali po lamang , " ang tugon ni Maria , nguni ' t hindi niya inaalis ang kanyang tingin sa kanyang anino sa tubig .

" Maria , sinasabi ko na sa iyong magbayo ka ng palay . Madali ka , " ang galit na galit na utos ng matanda .

Tumindig si Maria at tuloy-tuloy siya sa lusong ng palay . Hindi na niya naalis ang suklay at kuwintas . Nalalaman niyang kapag galit na galit na ang kanyang nanay ay dapat siyang sumunod nang madali . Nagbayo na siya nang nagbayo ng palay . Pagkatapos ng ilang sandali , siya ay pinawisan .

" Napupuno ng pawis ang aking kuwintas , " ang wika ni Maria sa kanyang sarili .

" Hinubad niya ang kuwintas . Inalis ang kanyang suklay . Isinabit ang mga ito sa langit na noon ay mababang-mababa at naabot ng kamay . Samantalang siya ay nagbabayo ay tinitingnan ang suklay at kuwintas .

" Kay ganda ng aking suklay at kuwintas , " ang wika ni Maria sa kanyang sarili . " Pagkatapos na pagkatapos ko nang pagbabayo ng palay ay isusuot ko uli ang aking suklay at kuwintas . "

Sa gayong pagsabi ay dinalas niya ang pagbabayo ng palay upang ito ay matapos at maisuot niya uli ang suklay at kuwintas . Tumaas nang tumaas ang pagbuhat niya ng halo at dumalas nang dumalas ang pagbagsak nito sa lusong . Umaabot na pala ang dulo ng halo sa langit , nguni ' t hindi niya napapansin . Sa palay na ngayon ang kanyang tingin . Tinitingnan niya kung malapit na siyang makatapos upang maisuot niya ang suklay at kuwintas . Itinaas pa niyang lalo ang pagbuhat ng halo upang lumakas ang pagbagsak nito sa lusong at nang madaling mabayo ang palay .

Sa bawa ' t pagtaas pala niya ng halo ay bumubunggo ang halo sa langit at sa bawa ' t pagbunggo naman ay tumataas ang langit . Nang mapuna ni Maria ang nangyayari ay mataas na ang langit . Tangay-tangay ang kanyang gintong suklay at kuwintas . Hindi na niya maabot ang mga ito .

Tumaas nang tumaas ang langit . Tumaas din nang tumaas ang suklay at kuwintas . Noong gabing yaon ay umupo si Maria sa may bintana at tinintingnan niya ang langit na ngayon ay mataas na mataas na . Hinanap niya ang kanyang suklay at kuwintas . Naroroon ang kanyang gintong suklay at siyang naging buwan . Ang mga gintong butil ng kanyang kuwintas at nagkahiwa-hiwalay at siya namang naging mga bituin .

" Lalong maganda ngayon ang aking gintong suklay , " ang wika ni Maria sa kanyang sarali , " At anong kinang ng mga butil ng aking kuwintas ! "
The Story of the Moon and the Stars
Once upon a time , in the early days , the sky was very low and there were no stars or a moon . Why , we wonder , did the sky get higher ? In this story , the answer will be clear .
Maria and her mother lived in a small hut . Maria had a golden comb and a necklace with beads of gold . Every day , she puts on the necklace and the golden comb on her hair . She looks at the water in the lake to see her beautiful image . One day , when she was wearing the necklace and the comb , her mother called her and summoned her to grind the grains of rice in a giant mortar with a giant pestle . She gladly agreed but she didn’t make a move . " Hurry up , Maria , we have no rice to cook for dinner " . She said she’ll do it right away . But she kept on admiring her image in the water . Her mother said " Maria , I told you to grind the grains of rice ! " in an angry tone . Maria quickly stood up to do what her mother asked and she did not remove the necklace and the comb on her hair . She knew that if her mother had that angry tone , she’d get in trouble . As she grinded the grains of rice , she started to sweat . So she quickly removed her necklace and the comb and hung them in the sky that was so low and reachable at that time . " Oh how beautiful are my necklace and comb " she sighed as she stared at them hanging up in the sky . She told herself that she’ll put them back on when she’s finished grinding the rice . She continued to work as fast as she could grinding with the giant pestle and the faster she did , the higher it went , not realizing that it was actually hitting the sky and pushing it higher and higher up . Her necklace and comb went up higher too and she could no longer reach them .
Maria could not sleep that night . She looked out the window and up the sky that is now so high . She saw her necklace and her comb way up there . The beads of gold in her necklace separated all over the sky which are now the stars and the golden comb is now the moon . Maria was happy that the sky is now so beautiful with the moon and the glittering stars !

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