Let us consider a life in whose course there is abundance of repetitions: mine, for example. I never pass in front of the Recoleta without remembering my father, my grandparents, and great-grand parents are buried there, just as I shall be some day; then I remember that I have remembered the same thing an untold number of times already; I cannot walk through the suburbs in the solitude of the night without thinking that the night pleases us because it suppresses idle details, just as our memory does; I cannot lament the loss of a love or friendship without meditating that one loses only what one really never had; every time I cross one of the street corners of the southern part of the city, I think of you, Helen; every time the wind brings me the smell of eucalyptus, I think of Adrogué in my childhood; every time I remember the ninety-first fragment of Heraclitus “You shall not go down twice to the same river”, I admire its dialectical dexterity, because the ease with which we accept the first meaning (“The river is different”) clandestinely imposes upon us the second (“I am different”) and grants us the illusion of having invented it; every time I hear a Germanophile vituperate the Yiddish language, I reflect that Yiddish is, after all, a German dialect, scarcely coloured by the language of Holy Spirit. These tautologies (and others I leave in silence) make up my entire life. Of course, they are repeated imprecisely; there are differences of emphasis, temperature, light and general psychological condition. I suspect, however, that the number of circumstantial variants is not infinite: we can postulate, in the mind of an individual (or of two individuals who do not know of each other but in whom the same process works), two identical moments. Once this identity is postulated, one may ask: Are not these identical moments the same? Is not one single repeated term sufficient to break down and confuse the series of time? Do not the fervent readers who surrender themselves to Shakespeare become, literally, Shakespeare?
— Jorge Luis Borges. “A Refutation of Time.” Labyrinths: Selected Stories and Other Writings. Ed Donald A. Yates & James E. Irby. London & New York: Penguin, 1970. p258-9
Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhaanay kay liyay aa
Let it be anguish, come still to torment my heart aa phir say mujhay chhorr kay jaanay kay liyay aa
Come, even if to leave me again
pehlay say maraasim na sahi phir bhi kabhi to
If not for our past association rasm-o-rahay duniya hi nibhaanay kay liyay aa
Come to fulfill the rituals of the world
kis kis ko bataayengay judaai kaa sabab ham
Who else must I explain the reason of separation tu mujh se khafaa hai to zamaanay kay liyay aa
Come, despite your displeasure, to continue the ceremony
kuchh to meri pindaar-e-mohabbat ka bharam rakh
Respect a little the depth of my love for you tu bhi to kabhi mujh ko manaanay kay liyay aa
Come someday to placate me as well
ek umr say hun lazzat-e-giryaa se bhi mehruum
Too long have I been deprived of the pathos of longing aye raahat-e-jaan mujh ko rulaanay kay liyay aa
Come my love, if only to make me weep again
ab tak dil-e-khush_feham ko tujh say hain ummeedain
Till now, my heart suffers from some expectation ye aakhari shammain bhi bujhaanay kay liyay aa
Come to snuff even these last candles of hope
I sing myself to sleep
A song from the darkest hour
Secrets I can’t keep
Inside of the day
I swing from high to deep
Extremes of sweet and sour
Hope that God exists
I hope I pray
Drawn by the under tow
My life is outa’ control
I believe this wave will bear my weight so let it flow
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Sit down next to me
Sit down down down down down in sympathy
Now I relieved to hear
That you’ve been to some far out places
It’s hard to carry on
When you feel all alone
The wisdom that I seek
Has been found in the strangest places
Feels a lot like love
That I feel for you
Now I’ve swung back down again
And it’s worse than it was before
If I hadn’t seen such riches
I could live with being poor
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Sit down next to me
Sit down down down down down in sympathy
Those who feel a breath of sadness
Sit down next to me
Those who find they’re touched by madness
Sit down next to me
Those who find themselves ridiculous
In love in fear in hate in tears
In love in fear in hate in tears
In love in fear in hate in tears
In love in fear in hate
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Sit down next to me
Sit down down down down down in sympathy