Understanding Borges 'Poem

At dawn I stand in the deserted street corner, I pass the night.
The night was a proud wave; a deep blue, top-heavy wave with the colors of the deep earth, with things that were unlikely but desirable.
The night had a mysterious habit of giving and refusing, of leaving and staying, and the joy of the dark hemisphere. The night is like that, I tell you.
The waves of that night left me with the usual bits and pieces: a few annoying chatting friends, dream music, acrid ash smoke. What my longing heart needs not.
The waves brought you.
Words, any words, your laughter, and your languid beauty. We talked, and you forgot to speak.
The sun is rising, and I'm on a deserted street in my city.
Your profile when you turned, the pronunciation of your name, your rhythmic laughter: these scenes have left me with a long aftertaste.
I mulled over them in the dawn, I lost them, I found them again; I spoke to a few dogs, and to the few morning stars of dawn.
Your secret and rich life…
I must try to understand you: I open myself to the aftertaste you leave me, I want your hidden face, your true smile-the lonely mocking smile reflected in your cold mirror.
What can I use to make you stay?
I will give you the streets of poverty, the sunset of despair, and the moon of the dilapidated suburbs.
I'll give you the sorrow of someone who has been staring at Lonemoon for a long time.
I give you my dead ancestors, whose spirits are remembered in marble: my father's father, who died on the border of Buffalo, two bullets through his chest. The bearded man was dead, and the soldiers wrapped his body in cowhide. My mother's grandfather, who was twenty-four years old at the time, led three hundred soldiers in a charge in peru and is now a ghost on horseback.
I give you all the insight my books can contain, all the manliness or humor in my life.
I will give you the loyalty of someone who has never believed in anything.
I give you the core of myself that I have tried to preserve--a core that does not make words, that does not trade with dreams, that is not touched by time, joy, or adversity.
I will give you the memory of a yellow rose that I saw on an evening many years before you were born.
I give you an explanation of yourself, a theory about yourself, and true and shocking news about yourself.
I give you my loneliness, my darkness, my heart's hunger; I try to move you with confusion, danger, failure.
I will give you the memory of a yellow rose that I saw on an evening many years before you were born.
It's a little like a father writing to his child

Answer 1

Borges 'poem, 99 Short Poems, expressed his thoughts and feelings about life, love, death and other topics in simple and concise language. Each line in this poem is an independent poem, but they are connected to each other to form a whole.

Overall, the meaning of this poem was very profound. It expressed the cherishment of life and love and the fearlessness of death. It tells us that life is short, but it can also be beautiful. Love can transcend the limitations of time and space, allowing us to feel true happiness and warmth. Death was not the end, but a new life that could bring new opportunities and hope.

This poem also expressed Borges 'love and pursuit of literature. Through poetry, he expressed his deep understanding and thinking of literature, calling on people to pay attention to literature, love literature, and strive to pursue their own literary dreams.

In short, this poem has a profound meaning and a unique literary style. It is one of Borges 'excellent works, worthy of our cherish and taste.