Was there a Garden or was the Garden a dream? <br />Amid the fleeting light, I have slowed myself and queried, <br />Almost for consolation, if the bygone period <br />Over which this Adam, wretched now, once reigned supreme, <br /> <br />Might not have been just a magical illusion <br />Of that God I dreamed. Already it's imprecise <br />In my memory, the clear Paradise, <br />But I know it exists, in flower and profusion, <br /> <br />Although not for me. My punishment for life <br />Is the stubborn earth with the incestuous strife <br />Of Cains and Abels and their brood; I await no pardon. <br /> <br />Yet, it's much to have loved, to have known true joy, <br />To have had -- if only for just one day -- <br />The experience of touching the living Garden. <br /> <br />Translated by Genia Gurarie, 4.1.96 <br />Copyright retained by Genia Gurarie. <br />email: egurarie@princeton.edu <br />http://www.princeton.edu/~egurarie/ <br />For permission to reproduce, write personally to the translator.<br /><br />Jorge Luis Borges<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/adam-cast-forth/
