#48 Mon (8/8/22) - Los cuatro ciclos (The Four Cycles) by Jorge Luis Borges (El oro de los tigres, 1972)
Found this piece in the usual place and proceeded to translate and examine it. It was not in any of my previous translated editions, although it has a familiar feel, touching as it does upon so many of the favored topics and references; Illiad and Odyssey, myths of Ragnarök, Anglo-Saxon poetry, Sir Gawain, Jason and the Golden Fleece, the Simurgh, Captain Ahab and Kafka, Odin and Christ. In so doing I followed (forged?) the links to Rosetti's Troy Town and Yeats' Leda and the Swan. I found out about the Game of the Gods (tafl) recounted in the Voluspa (which also has a long roll call of familiar dwarfs, including Gandalf), and the castrated Phrygian fertility god, Attis. I veered then back into Beckford's Vathek, and found out about the Sultan Moulay Ismail ibn Sharif of Morocco, one of the true inspirations for the cruel Caliph Vathek. In the same edition, Beckford wrote about his dream and described some of his travels in letters (hilarious!). I will post Beckford's other dream in RdlR.
I also tracked down a Schopenhauer quote from Avatars of the Tortoise, which is supposed to be in Discusion (1932), but is not in my edition, however, it is found translated in Labyrinths. (I also found it in Obras Completas 1923-1972.)
nothing more than that) can resemble the universe very much. It is also
venturesome to think that of all these illustrious coordinations, one of them
― at least in an infinitesimal way ― does not resemble the universe a bit
more than the others. I have examined those which enjoy certain prestige; I
venture to affirm that only in the one formulated by Schopenhauer have I
recognized some trait of the universe. According to this doctrine, the world
is a fabrication of the will.
Jorge Luis Borges. Avatars of the Tortoise, Labyrinths. 1962, [J.E.I., tr.]
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Los cuatro ciclos
Cuatro son las historias, una, la más
antigua, es la de una fuerte ciudad que cercan y defienden hombres
valientes. Los defensores saben que la ciudad será entregada al hierro y
al fuego y que su batalla es inútil; el más famoso de los agresores,
Aquiles, sabe que su destino es morir antes de la victoria. Los siglos
fueron agregando elementos de magia. Se dijo que Helena de Troya, por la
cual los ejércitos murieron, era una hermosa nube, una sombra; se dijo
que el gran caballo griego en el que se ocultaron los griegos, era
también una apariencia. Homero no habrá sido el primer poeta que refirió
la fábula; alguien, en el siglo catorce, dejó esta línea que anda por
mi memoria: The borgh brittened and brent to brondes and askes.[*]
Dante Gabriel Rosetti, imaginaría que la suerte de Troya quedó sellada
en aquel instante en que Paris arde en amor de Helena; Yeats elegirá el
instante en que se confunden Leda y el cisne que era un dios.
Otra, que se vincula a la primera, es la del regreso. El de Ulises, que,
al cabo de diez años de errar por mares peligrosos y de demorarse en
islas de encantamiento, vuelve a su Ítaca; el de las divinidades del
Norte que, una vez destruida la tierra, la ven surgir del mar, verde y
lúcida, y hallan perdidas en el césped las piezas de ajedrez con que
antes jugaron.
La tercera historia es la de una busca. Podemos
ver en ella una variación de la forma anterior. Jasón y el Vellocino;
los treinta pájaros del persa, que cruzan mares y montañas y ven la cara
de su Dios, el Simurgh, que es cada uno de ellos y todos. En el pasado
toda empresa era venturosa. Alguien robaba, al fin, las prohibidas
manzanas de oro; alguien, al fin, merecía la conquista de Grial, Ahora,
la busca está condenada al fracaso. El capitán Ahab da con la ballena y
la ballena lo deshace; los héroes de James o de Kafka sólo pueden
esperar la derrota. Somos tan pobres de valor y de fe, que ya el
happy-ending no es otra cosa que un halago industrial. No podemos creer
en el cielo, pero sí en el infierno.
La última historia es la
del sacrificio de un dios. Attis, en Frigia, se mutila y se mata; Odín,
sacrificando a Odín, Él mismo a Sí mismo, pende del árbol nueve noches
enteras y es herido de lanza; Cristo es crucificado por los romanos.
Cuatro son las historias. Durante el tiempo que nos queda seguiremos narrándolas, transformadas.
En El oro de los tigres, 1972
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Google translate
The Four Cycles
There are four stories, one, the oldest, is that of a strong city
surrounded and defended by brave men. The defenders know that the city
will be given over to iron and fire and that their battle is useless;
the most famous of the aggressors, Achilles, knows that it is his
destiny to die before victory. The centuries were adding elements of
magic. Helen of Troy, for whom armies died, was said to be a beautiful
cloud, a shadow; it was said that the great Greek horse in which the
Greeks hid, was also an appearance. Homer will not have been the first
poet who related the fable; someone, in the fourteenth century, left
this line that goes through my memory: The borgh brittened and brent to brontes and askes.[*] Dante Gabriel Rosetti, would imagine that the fate of Troy was sealed at that moment in which Paris burns with love for Helen; Yeats will choose the moment in which Leda and the swan that was a god are confused.
Another, which is linked to the first, is that of return. That of
Ulysses, who, after ten years of wandering through dangerous seas and
lingering on islands of enchantment, returns to his Ithaca; that of the
divinities of the North who, once the earth has been destroyed, see it
emerge from the sea, green and lucid, and find the chess pieces with
which they played before lost on the grass.
The third story
is that of a quest. We can see in it a variation of the previous form.
Jason and the Fleece; the thirty Persian birds that cross seas and
mountains and see the face of their God, the Simurgh, who is each one of
them and all of them. In the past, every company was successful.
Someone was finally stealing the forbidden golden apples; someone,
finally, deserved the conquest of Grail, Now, the search is doomed to
failure. Captain Ahab finds the whale and the whale undoes him; the
heroes of James or Kafka can only hope for defeat. We are so poor in
courage and faith that the happy-ending is nothing more than an
industrial compliment. We cannot believe in heaven, but we can believe
in hell.
The last story is that of the sacrifice of a god. Attis, in Phrygia, mutilates and kills himself;
Odin, sacrificing Odin, Himself to Himself, hangs from the tree nine
whole nights and is speared; Christ is crucified by the Romans.
There are four stories. During the time we have left we will continue narrating them, transformed.
In The Gold of Tigers, 1972
[*] The Middle English verse means The Fortress Broken and Reduced to Fire and Ashes. It belongs to the admirable alliterative poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which preserves the primitive music of the Saxon, although it was composed centuries after the conquest led by William the Bastard.
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