As the author of the aleph undoubtly was . No. It couldn’t be. Borges could not have written this. And although he knew well that it would be difficult at the moment to delve into all his work (1141 pages – a number that this compendium of his works covers – they cannot be read in an afternoon, and even more so if we must add to these the books publish after 1972, and those others that for some reason were not includ in that ition), i knew that it was not urgent to do so, because for anyone who has read some pages of this writer it could become evident that these almost laughable verses did not come from his pen.
Burga Past Rector of the
I review only out of automatism (since, I already hint, my skepticism was total) some passages glean from here and there and, again, the few books that I have by business email list him and that are not includ, because they were publish after 1972, in the Emecé ition. As it could not be otherwise, I did not find that text or anything that resembl it. After this, to look into the paradise of our times and discover what was said there, I began to explore the network of networks again.
National University of San
As I found those who naively replicat the absurdity, posting the suppos poem on a blog or publishing it on a website, I also found readers who scandalizly deni that those verses could be by Borges. If “Instants” was able to persuade the most reputable specialist of its authenticity, thanks to its theme (the inexorable end of life that is approaching; the wise and paradoxical repose of old age that regrets having ignor the impetus of life), its vivid images (at times close to kitsch, but without crossing that ominous line), and perhaps the Phone Number IR effectiveness of its language (simple, and direct, but without being pestrian), something similar could not happen with those lines that we have previously record : reading it would not even cause a slight hesitation in anyone who has approach some of the Argentine writer’s pages with average attention.
