Milonga Del Infiel
Jorge Luis Borges
Cheater's Milonga
From the desert he arrived
On his horse, the cheater;
He was a pampa from the tents
Of pincén or catriel.
He and the horse were one,
They were one and not two.
Riding bareback, he guided him
With a whistle or voice.
In his tent there was a lance
That he sharpened meticulously;
A lance is of little use
Against the advantageous rifle.
He knew how to heal with words,
What not everyone can do.
He knew the paths that lead
To the secret border.
He came from inland
And returned inland;
Perhaps he didn't tell anyone
The strange things he saw.
He had never seen a door,
That human thing
So ancient, nor a courtyard
Nor the well and the pulley.
He didn't know that behind
The walls there are rooms
With their folding bed,
Bench, and other niceties.
He wasn't amazed to see his face
Reflected in the mirror;
He saw it for the first time
In that first reflection.
The two Indians looked at each other
Without changing a sign.
One - which one? - looked at the other
As if dreaming that he's dreaming.
Nor would it amaze him
To know he was defeated and dead;
To his story we call it
The conquest of the desert.
