touring the bush (4) : buenos aires, intro (fervor)

daido moriyama, from the book buenos aires

the streets of buenos aires
are now my entrails.
not the anxious streets
with all their annoying mobs and racket,
but the apathetic streets of the barrio,
so usual they’ve become all but invisible
tender from the half-light and the dusk
and those lying further out
without the pious trees
where austere little houses dare go, barely,
overwhelmed with immortal distance,
to loose themselves in the deep vision
of sky and plains

this is (sort of) how the first poem of borges’s first book (fervor de buenos aires, 1923) las calles (the streets) goes.

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