Konstantinos P. Cavafy Quotes

He came to read; two or three books
are lying open: history and poetry.
But after just ten minutes of reading
he lets them drop. There on the sofa
he falls asleep. He truly is devoted to reading-
but he is twenty-three years old, and very handsome.
And just this afternoon, Eros surged
within his perfect limbs and on his lips.
Into his beautiful flesh came the heat of passion,
and there was no foolish embarrassment
about the form that pleasure took..

Memory, keep those eyes just as they were. / And memory, whatever you can salvage of that passion of mine, / whatever you can, bring back to me tonight.

Immoral to a degree — and probably more than a degree — they certainly were. But they had the satisfaction that their life was the notorious life of Antioch, delectably sensual, in absolute good taste. <p> To give up all this, indeed, for what? <p> His hot air about the false gods, his boring self-advertisement, his childish fear of the theatre, his graceless prudery, his ridiculous beard.

What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?<p>The barbarians are due here today.

"Voices"

Ideal and dearly beloved voices
of those who are dead, or of those
who are lost to us like the dead.

Sometimes they speak to us in our dreams;
sometimes in thought the mind hears them.

And for a moment with their echo other echoes
return from the first poetry of our lives — like music that extinguishes the far-off night.

Vuelve a menudo y tómame, en la noche,
cuando los labios y la piel recuerdan...

Try to keep them, poet, those erotic visions of yours, however few of them there are that can be stilled. Put them, half-hidden, in your lines.

Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me –
when the body’s memory awakens,
and old longings pulse again in my blood,
when lips and skin remember,
and hands could almost touch again. Return often and take me at night,
when lips and skin remember.

عندما تتهيأ للرحيل إلى إيثاكا،
تمنّ أن يكون الطريق طويلًا،
حافلًا بالمغامرات، عامرًا بالمعرفة

لا تخش الليستريجونات والسيكلوبات
ولا بوسايدون الهائج
لن تجد أبدًا أيًا من هؤلاء في طريقك

إن بقي فكرك ساميًا، إن مست عاطفة نبيلة روحك وجسدك،
لن تقابل الليستريجونات والسيكلوبات
ولا بوزايدون العاتي،
إن لم تحملهم في روحك،
إن لم تستحضرهم روحك قدامك

تمنّ أن يكون الطريق طويلاً،
أن تكون صباحات الصيف عديدة،
فتدخل المرافئ التي ترى لأول مرة،
منشرحًا، جذلًا

توقف بالأسواق الفينيقية،
واقتن السلع الجيدة،
أصدافًا ومرجانًا، كهرمانًا وأبنوسًا،
وعطورا شهوانية من كل نوع،
قدر ما يمكن من العطور الشهوانية،

اذهب إلى كثير من المدن المصرية،
تعلم، وتعلم ثانية، من الحكماء

لتكن إيثاكا في روحك دائما
الوصول إليها قدرك
لكن لا تتعجل انتهاء الرحلة
الأفضل أن تدوم سنوات طويلة
وأن تكون شيخا حين تبلغ الجزيرة
ثريا بما كسبته في الطريق،
غير آمل أن تهبك ايثاكا ثراء

إيثاكا منحتك الرحلة الجميلة
لولاها ما كنت شددت الرحال
وليس لديها ما تمنحك إياه أكثر من ذلك

حتى وإن بدت لك ايثاكا فقيرة،
فإنها لم تخدعك.

ومادمت قد صرت حكيما، حائزا كل هذه الخبرة،
فلا ريب أنك قد فهمت ما تعنيه الايثاكات.

"You said: "I'll go to some other land, I'll go to some other sea.
There's bound to be another city that's better by far.
My every effort has been ill-fated from the start;
my heart — like something dead — lies buried away;
How long will my mind endure this slow decay?
Wherever I look, wherever I cast my eyes,
I see all round me the black rubble of my life
where I've spent so many ruined and wasted years."

You'll find no new places, you won't find other shores.
The city will follow you. The street in which you pace
will be the same, you'll haunt the same familiar places,
and inside those same houses you'll grow old.
You'll always end up in this city. Don't bother to hope
for a ship, a route, to take you somewhere else; they don't exist.
Just as you've destroyed your life, here in this
small corner, so you've wasted it through all the world."

"Powiedziałeś: "Pojadę do innej ziemi, nad morze inne.
Jakieś inne znajdzie się miasto, jakieś lepsze miejsce.
Tu już wydany jest wyrok na wszystkie moje dążenia
i pogrzebane leży, jak w grobie, moje serce.
Niechby się umysł wreszcie podźwignął z odrętwienia.
Tu, cokolwiek wzrokiem ogarnę,
ruiny mego życia czarne
widzę, gdziem tyle lat przeżył, stracił, roztrwonił".

Nowych nie znajdziesz krain ani innego morza.
To miasto pójdzie za tobą. Zawsze w tych samych dzielnicach
będziesz krążył. W tych samych domach włosy ci posiwieją.
Zawsze trafisz do tego miasta. Będziesz chodził po tych samych ulicach.
Nie ma dla ciebie okrętu - nie ufaj próżnym nadziejom - nie ma drogi w inną stronę.
Jakeś swoje życie roztrwonił
w tym ciasnym kącie, tak je w całym świecie roztrwoniłeś."

Monotony One monotonous day follows another
monotonous day, without change. The same
things happen, then happen again.
The same moments approach, then grow distant. A month passes and brings another month.
Anyone can guess what’s coming after:
all the tedious events from the day before,
until tomorrow looks nothing like tomorrow.

Just to be on the first step should make you happy and proud. To have come this far is no small achievement: what you have done is a glorious thing. Even this first step is a long way above the ordinary world. To stand on this step you must be in your own right a member of the city of ideas. And it is a hard, unusual thing to be enrolled as a citizen of that city. Its councils are full of Legislators no charlatan can fool.

Now the longed-for signal has appeared. Yet when happiness comes it brings less joy than one expected. But at least we've gained this much: we've rid ourselves of hope and expectation.

And if you can’t shape your life the way you want, at least try as much as you can not to degrade it by too much contact with the world, by too much activity and talk.