A Rose and Milton By Jorge Luis Borges Translated by A.Z. Foreman Amid the generations of the rose That in the deep of ages lie long gone I want one to be spared oblivion, Unmarked and undistinguished among those Bygone. I am bequeathed by destiny The privilege of bestowing the first name Upon that silent rose, the last and same Flower that Milton held and could not see Before his face. O you vermillion, white Or yellow rose from a garden long erased, Your immemorial past, by magic placed In the one present, is this verse's light: Gold, ivory, or blood, the shades enclose You, as his fingers once, invisible rose.
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