Borges' Iceland.
Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986 CE), Argentinian poet, writer, and national librarian, is a globally recognized giant of Latin literary erudition. His essays, mind-bending short stories, and bittersweet verses almost all manage to reach & grasp something beyond themselves, unveiling a cosmic truth. And this last aspect is the NorsePlay & insight that Borges recognized within the Eddas, as a number of his works fondly explore the Norse Lore.
In the earliest times, which were so susceptible to vague speculation and the inevitable ordering of the universe, there can have existed no division between the poetic and the prosaic. Everything must have been tinged with magic. Thor was not the god of Thunder; he was the thunder and the god.
~ from Borges' The Gold of the Tigers
The literary parallels here between just-so events in Latin magical realism & surrealism being presented in a matter-of-fact way is equally found in the sagas & histories where troublesome zombie ghost draugr can be called to court and exorcised via a legal proceeding, or dwarves can trick kings through doors in hillside rocks to never to be seen again. These things just happen within the narrative and are an accepted part of the Heathen Worldview as much as the uncanny or miraculous are part of a Hispanic one.
Borges spent time as a visiting professor in 1961 CE at the University of Texas at Austin, noted for its accomplished academics that studied & translated Old Norse, Old English, and Medieval German.
The following poem's an example of Borges' regard for the northern literary homeland that partially inspired him:
Iceland
Iceland of the seas,
how lucky all men are that you exist.
Iceland of the silent snow and fervent water.
Iceland of the night that overarches
our wakefulness and sleep.
Island of the white returning day,
young and mortal as Balder.
Icy rose, secret island,
you were Germania's memory;
you saved for us
her snuffed-out, buried myths:
the ring that sires nine rings more,
the giant wolves from iron woods
that will devour sun and moon,
the ship Someone or Something builds
with the fingernails of the dead.
Iceland of craters that bide their time,
and of quiet flocks of sheep.
Iceland of still afternoons
and stalwart men
who are sailors now and boatmen and parishioners,
and who yesterday unearthed a continent.
Island of long-maned horses
that beget on lava beds and grass,
island of water filled with coins
and unquenched hope.
Iceland of the sword and of the rune,
Iceland of the great domed memory
that knows no longing for the past.
[translation by Hoyt Rogers.
{reads best in the original Spanish}]
Far before the above in 1933 CE, Borges wrote an essay for The New Yorker on kennings, and all the references in Iceland show his appreciation, knowledge, ownership, and celebration of Norse Mythology.
 |
| [Borges with his cat Odin. Blind by age 54, Borges was often incidentally photographed with one eye closed, which was very Odinic.] |
Skál y viva por siempre, Jorge Luis Borges.
Comments
Post a Comment