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A poem on disappointments

From:FFlores <fflores@...>
Date:Friday, March 24, 2000, 23:46
People, I'm sharing: this is a poem I wrote -- it's about
a personal experience which was not really devastating,
but shocking enough to elicit this output from me. (No,
I don't want to explain it.) Do what you want with it
so as to make it on topic :) (translating it is a good
idea -- it's more difficult than it seems). Start by
bearing with this English translation. If anyone wants
I can send them the Spanish original.

<no title so far -- except the trivial one of this message>

The day started, blue,
with two disappointments:
the lesser one, the greater one,
the pair who turned forgettable
the first two hours
Not the day, I hope, all of it
Too well I know one mustn't
expect anything from anyone
ever, or take anything
for granted, as if done.
But where that all leaves
faith and trust,
it has an answer
that can't be shouted
with words, or with few
The hope, a blush,
crashed against a sudden wall:
too well I know one mustn't
expect anything, and that
is the only justice
in this morning:
that it may not be lost,
not all of it,
not more,
for one mustn't ever
expect anything from the day.

--Pablo Flores
  ... I cannot combine any characters that the divine Library
  has not foreseen, which in some of its secret tongues do not
  bear some terrible meaning. No-one can articulate a syllable
  not filled of caresses and fears; which is not, in some one
  of those languages, the powerful name of a god...
                   Jorge Luis Borges, _The Library of Babel_