He Came to Read
He came to read. Two or three books
are open; historians and poets.
But he only read for ten minutes,
and gave them up. He is dozing
on the sofa. He is fully devoted to books
but he is twenty-three years old, and he's very handsome;
and this afternoon love passed
through his ideal flesh, his lips.
Through his flesh which is full of beauty
the heat of love passed;
without any silly shame for the form of the enjoyment.....
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Remember, Body...
Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
not only the beds on which you lay,
but also those desires which for you
plainly glowed in the eyes,
and trembled in the voice -- and some
chance obstacle made them futile.
Now that all belongs to the past,
it is almost as if you had yielded
to those desires too -- remember,
how they glowed, in the eyes looking at you;
how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Things Ended
Engulfed by fear and suspicion,
mind agitated, eyes alarmed,
we try desperately to invent ways out,
plan how to avoid
the obvious danger that threatens us so terribly.
Yet we're mistaken, that's not the danger ahead:
the news was wrong
(or we didn't hear it, or didn't get it right).
Another disaster, one we never imagined,
suddenly, violently, descends upon us,
and finding us unprepared -there's no time now
sweeps us away.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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On Board Ship
It's like him, of course,
this little pencil portrait.
Hurriedly sketched, on the ship's deck,
the afternoon magical,
the Ionian Sea around us.
It's like him. But I remember him as better looking.
He was almost pathologically sensitive,
and this highlighted his expression.
He appears to me better looking
now that my soul brings him back, out of Time.
Out Of Time. All these things are very old
the sketch, the ship, the afternoon.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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On the shop
He wrapped them carefully, neatly
in costly green silk.
Roses of ruby, lilies of pearl,
violets of amethyst. As he himself judged,
as he wanted them, they look beautiful to him; not as he saw
or studied them in nature. He will leave them in the safe,
a sample of his daring and skillful craft.
When a buyer enters the shop
he takes from the cases other wares and sells -- superb jewels --
bracelets, chains, necklaces, and rings.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Priest at the Serapeum
My dear old father,
who always loved me the same;
my dear old father I lament
who died the day before yesterday, just before dawn.
Jesus Christ, it is my daily effort
to observe the precepts
of Thy most holy church in all my acts,
in all words, in all thoughts.
And all those who renounce Thee
I shun.-- But now I lament;
I bewail, Christ, for my father
although he was -- a horrible thing to say --
a priest at the accursed Serapeum.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The Favour of Alexander Valas
I'm not in the least put out that my chariot wheel broke
and I lost that silly race.
I'll drink great wines the whole night,
lying among lovely roses. Antioch is all mine.
I'm the most celebrated young man in town
Valas' weakness, he simply adores me.
You'll see, tomorrow they'll say the race wasn't fair
(though if I'd been crude enough to insist on it secretly,
the flatterers would have given first place even to my limping
chariot).
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Body Remember
Body, remember not only how much you were loved
not only the beds you lay on.
but also those desires glowing openly
in eyes that looked at you,
trembling for you in voices-
only some chance obstacle frustrated them.
Now that it's all finally in the past,
it seems almost as if you gave yourself
to those desires too-how they glowed,
remember, in eyes that looked at you,
remember, body, how they trembled for you in those voices.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Of The Shop
He wrapped them carefully, neatly
in costly green silk.
Roses of ruby, lilies of pearl,
violets of amethyst. As he himself judged,
as he wanted them, they look beautiful to him; not as he saw
or studied them in nature. He will leave them in the safe,
a sample of his daring and skillful craft.
When a buyer enters the shop
he takes from the cases other wares and sells -- superb jewels --
bracelets, chains, necklaces, and rings.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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One Night
The room was penurious and common,
Hidden over a disreputable tavern,
The alley could be seen from the window,
Unclean and narrow. From below
Came the voices of a few workmen
Who were playing cards and having a good time.
There on the vulgar on the humble bed
I had the body of love, I had the lips,
The sensuous, the rosy lips of wine,
Rosy with such a wine, that even now
Here as I write, after so many years,
In my solitary house, I am drunk again.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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