Reviews

Poems of the Night by Jorge Luis Borges

kojali's review

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3.0

I don’t think I’m at a place in my life or mindset where I can fully appreciate Borges. I will keep my copy and return to him in the future.

sophramsay's review

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slow-paced

5.0

gypsynyx91's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional reflective slow-paced

3.25

meghadutam's review

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5.0

I think I will always be reading this. It just gets better and better...

books_buds_n_brewskis's review

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emotional mysterious reflective

5.0

he11abe11a's review

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inspiring reflective sad fast-paced

4.5

noirish's review

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challenging dark emotional reflective medium-paced

4.5

jowiththetbrshelves's review

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5.0

"There is no moment that isn't a load gun."

This powerful collection was my introduction to Borges. There were some poems that were so impactful that I uttered words aloud when they were done (I actually said "damn!" or "wow" multiple times), others I shared immediately with a friend. There's a power in these meditations on darkness, dreams, and mortality. I am looking forward to reading more of Borges work.

rsegovia's review

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4.0

4.5

lauren_endnotes's review

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5.0

"At dawn I seem to hear the turbulent
murmur of crowds milling and fading away;
they are all I have been loved by, forgotten by;
space, time, and Borges now are leaving me."
▫️From 'Limits' by Jorge Luis Borges, translated from the Spanish by Alastair Reid

POEMS OF THE NIGHT is an immaculate collection of poetry, gathering many previously published poems in new translation, and some pieces appearing in English for the first time. The Penguin Classics edition I read was a dual text, Spanish and English.

This was my first full-length exposure to Borges, choosing to start with his poetry, and making my way to his short fiction and essays.These poems showcase Borges erudition and broad classical education, allusions to many forms of world literature, culture, language... It was stunning to read.

Darkness, sleep, dreams, blindness, death - these poems are Borges own reckoning with his growing blindness, and his inability to see his beloved words on a page. The natural progression, as he ponders death.
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"I think of my own death, my perfect death,
without a funeral urn, without a tear."
▫️From 'Elegy'.