the universe which others call the library is composed of an indefinite and perh
aps infinite number of hexagonal galleries, with vast air shafts between, surrou
nded by very low railings. from any of the hexagons one can see, interminably, t
he upper and lower floors. the distribution of the galleries is invariable. twen
ty shelves, five long shelves per side, cover all the sides except two their hei
ght, which is the distance from floor to ceiling, scarcely exceeds that of a nor
mal bookcase. one of the free sides leads to a narrow hallway which opens onto a
nother gallery, identical to the first and to all the rest. to the left and righ
t of the hallway there are two very small closets. in the first, one may sleep s
tanding up in the other, satisfy ones fecal necessities. also through here passe
s a spiral stairway, which sinks abysmally and soars upwards to remote distances
. in the hallway there is a mirror which faithfully duplicates all appearances. 
men usually infer from this mirror that the library is not infinite if it were, 
why this illusory duplication i prefer to dream that its polished surfaces repre
sent and promise the infinite ... light is provided by some spherical fruit whic
h bear the name of lamps. there are two, transversally placed, in each hexagon. 
the light they emit is insufficient, incessant. like all men of the library, i h
ave traveled in my youth i have wandered in search of a book, perhaps the catalo
gue of catalogues now that my eyes can hardly decipher what i write, i am prepar
ing to die just a few leagues from the hexagon in which i was born. once i am de
ad, there will be no lack of pious hands to throw me over the railing my grave w
ill be the fathomless air my body will sink endlessly and decay and dissolve in 
the wind generated by the fall, which is infinite. i say that the library is une
nding. the idealists argue that the hexagonal rooms are a necessary form of abso
lute space or, at least, of our intuition of space. they reason that a triangula
r or pentagonal room is inconceivable. the mystics claim that their ecstasy reve
als to them a circular chamber containing a great circular book, whose spine is 
continuous and which follows the complete circle of the walls but their testimon
y is suspect their words, obscure. this cyclical book is god. let it suffice now
 for me to repeat the classic dictum the library is a sphere whose exact center 
is any one of its hexagons and whose circumference is inaccessible. there are fi
ve shelves for each of the hexagons walls each shelf contains thirtyfive books o
f uniform format each book is of four hundred and ten pages each page, of forty 
lines, each line, of some eighty letters which are black in color. there are als
o letters on the spine of each book these letters do not indicate or prefigure w
hat the pages will say. i know that this incoherence at one time seemed mysterio
us. before summarizing the solution whose discovery, in spite of its tragic proj
ections, is perhaps the capital fact in history i wish to recall a few axioms. f
irst the library exists ab aeterno. this truth, whose immediate corollary is the
 future eternity of the world, cannot be placed in doubt by any reasonable min