Borges’ “In Praise of Darkness”

A few days ago I cited the Prologue to “In Praise of Darkness,” and here’s the title poem from that work:


Old age (the name that others give it)
can be the time of our greatest bliss.
The animal has died or almost died.
The man and his spirit remain.
I live among vague, luminous shapes
that are not darkness yet.
Buenos Aires,
whose edges disintegrated
into the endless plain,
has gone back to being the Recoleta, the Retiro,
the nondescript streets of the Once,
and the rickety old houses
we still call the South.
In my life there were always too many things.
Democritus of Abdera plucked out his eyes in order to think;
Time has been my Democritus.
This penumbra is slow and does not pain me;
it flows down a gentle slope,
resembling eternity.
My friends have no faces,
women are what they were so many years ago,
these corners could be other corners,
there are no letters on the pages of books.
All this should frighten me,
but it is a sweetness, a return.
Of the generations of texts on earth
I will have read only a few-
the ones that I keep reading in my memory,
reading and transforming.
From South, East, West, and North
the paths converge that have led me
to my secret center.
Those paths were echoes and footsteps,
women, men, death-throes, resurrections,
days and nights,
dreams and half-wakeful dreams,
every inmost moment of yesterday
and all the yesterdays of the world,
the Dane’s staunch sword and the Persan’s moon,
the acts of the dead,
shared love, and words,
Emerson and snow, so many things.
Now I can forget them. I reach my center
my algebra and my key,
my mirror.
Soon I will know who I am.

Although this poem stands on its own, it is much more poignant if you know that Borges, like his father, gradually went blind in his 50’s and 60’s.

Borges equates this loss of vision with old age, and “the animal has died, or almost,” physical desires no longer dominate a man’s, or woman’s, life but the “spirit” remains. Many would be devastated by this loss of eyesight, but the line ” In my life there were always too many things.” would suggest that the loss of eyesight may be a blessing, a way of making the poet see what is important in life.

With the loss of sight comes greater insight: “Democritus of Abdera plucked out his eyes in order to think; Time has been my Democritus.” Much of what we see draws us away from our own thoughts. It’s easy to get so caught up reading what’s “new” that you can’t find the time to sit down and simply think your own thoughts. Without this distraction, the narrator suggests that he will have time to reflect on “the ones that I keep reading in my memory.” I’ve certainly felt that way at times; I’m so busy reading poets that I’ve never read before that I don’t take the time to go back and re-read the poets, or authors, that have most impressed me in the past.

More to the point, the poet feels that shutting all these distractions out will help him reach his center, his algebra, his key, his mirror. Soon he will know who he is.

I suspect anyone who has spent much time meditating can identify with this. It’s amazing how good it feels to spend time alone in the darkness, free of other’s thoughts, simply feeling at one with yourself and with the darkness.

7 thoughts on “Borges’ “In Praise of Darkness””

  1. Thank you so much for your blog. It is beautiful in so many ways and has touched me deeply. I came to it through a link to one of your exceptional photos, but find your writing equally nourishing. Then to find you had quoted one of my favourite authors was amazing! You are a jewel. Thanks.

  2. Thanks for sharing this brilliant work and your thoughts.

    Hails From Bangladesh.

  3. Loren, I’d like to explain, how and why I came to your blog. I was invited by my friend to spend one week on a rehabilitation camp with a group of blind people, (My friend organizes it for them and they don’t have enough guests). At that moment I remembered that I read “something” very encouraging on blindness by Jorge Luis Borges, which would be good to read for them. I thought that the title of it was “The Praise of Blindness”, but I couldn’t find such a title and I came to the conclusion that it must have been “The Praise of Darkness”. Looking for it on Internet I came to your old blog.
    Reading the poem I was sure its content corresponds to what I had read. What confuses me a little is that I thought I had read an essay. Anyway a piece of prose because I don’t think I would have been so good to deduce from a poem the ideas that I keep in my mind for all those years (I’m not trained that way, being a retired civil engineer, entertaining myself now with a little of organic farming and teaching English). My ideas I have kept in my mind all those years are rather identical with those in your commentary: loss of eyesight being blessing, enabling to see what is important in life; new things that we perceive draw us away from important things, they are distractions.

    Anyway, I can’t think that I have got these ideas from your blog because I’m sure I had read it not later than in 1987, it means 20 years before you wrote your commentary.
    What I wanted to ask you is a question if Borges didn’t write an essay on this topic which I could have happened to read in the 1980s (or before).
    I would be thankful for you help because I’m not very good at looking for information on Internet. Thanks Lida

    PS By the way, your photos I saw on internet are marvelous.

    1. Unfortunately, you’re giving me more credit than I’m due, Lida. I only managed to read this Borges book. Unfortunately, I’ve not managed to read any of his essays yet. So I’m afraid I can’t answer your question. Hopefully another more informed reader will happen upon this page and be able to provide you with a better answer.

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