Borges  

Old man from the North, immaculate liar,
your iron helmet and the deadened eyes
waken at dawn, and watch red spears take fire
and fade on Danish beaches. You despise
the lazy, learned man moving in gentle
amazement with a cane, who keeps a gold
watch in his coat so he can lose the mental
con game with time. You feel remorse for old
Jorge Luis Borges, outwitting God,
Persians, and the algebra of being. Both of
you hunt madmen for a word. Your love
is hidden, though it burns behind the sword
of Norsemen and the cane. You are a fraud
and friend, a haunting brain and lonely lord.

--Willis Barnstone, from The Secret Reader (see also here)