Moments by Luis Jorge Borges

If I were able to live my life again,

next time I would try to make more mistakes.

I would not try to be so perfect. I would be more relaxed.

I would be much more foolish than I have been. In fact,

I would take very few things seriously.

I would be much less sanitary.

I would run more risks. I would take more trips,

I would contemplate more sunsets,

I would climb more mountains,

I would swim more rivers.

I would go to more places I have never visited.

I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans.

I would have more real problems, fewer imaginary ones.

I was one of these people who lived prudently

and prolifically every moment of his life.

Certainly I had moments of great happiness:

Don’t let the present slip away.

I was one of those who never went anywhere

without a thermometer, a hot water bottle,

an umbrella, and a parachute.

If I could live over again,

I would go barefoot, beginning

in early spring

and would continue so until the end of autumn.

I would take more turns on the merry-go-round.

I would watch more dawns

And play with more children,

if I once again had a life ahead of me.

But, you see, I am eighty-five

and I know that I am dying.