Juan López and John WardSerbal Vidrio latin american
Part of a series on latin american poems
Originally Written by Jurge Luis Borges
Chance found them in a strange age.
The planet had been parceled up into different countries, each provisioned with loyalties, beloved memories, and an undoubtedly heroic past; with rights, grievances, and peculiar mythologies; with brazen forefathers, anniversaries, demagogues, and symbols. This division, the work of cartographers, made wars auspicious.
López was born in the city that stands by that immobile river; Ward, on the outskirts of the city through which walked Father Brown. He had studied Spanish to read the Quijote.
The other professed a love for Conrad, who had been revealed to him in a classroom on Viamonte Street.
They might have been friends, but they saw each other face to face only once, on a pair of too-famous islands, and each of the two was Cain, and each one Abel.
They were interred together, left to snow and decay.
The facts that I recount took place in a time that we cannot understand.