The rebirth of hope can be observed in a poem that Jorge Luis Borges composed which his biographers claim was likely the last thing he ever wrote in his native land. Entitled simply, “1985,” it was an act of faith in Argentina’s capacity to regenerate itself.
Borges claims that the patria was not to be found in “some famous date,” or in the “short-lived fury or fervor of the fickle masses,”
He felt it in more intimate things, in the odor of jasmines, in a daguerreotype, a garden at dusk, maybe in, “a sword that has served in the desert,” or “a history annotated by a dead man.”
So what, then, was the patria?
Something in my breast and in your breast,
Something dreamed of yet never made,
Something blown away by the wind, yet not mislaid.
“There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads
on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows
and in miseries.
We must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.” – W.S.