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"The City"
You said, “I will go to another land, I will go to another sea.
Another city will be found, a better one than this.
Every effort of mine is a condemnation of fate;
and my heart is — like a corpse — buried.
How long will my mind remain in this wasteland.
Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look
I see black ruins of my life here,
where I spent so many years destroying and wasting.”
You will find no new lands, you will find no other seas.
The city will follow you. You will roam the same
streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods;
and you will grow gray in these same houses.
Always you will arrive in this city. Do not hope for any other — There is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you have destroyed your life here
in this little corner, you have ruined it in the entire world.
Constantine P. Cavafy, also known as Konstantin or Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis, or Kavaphes (Greek Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης) (29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933) was a Greek poet who is often ranked among most important literary figures of the 20th century.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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VLADAR IZ ZAPADNE LIBIJE
Uglavnom se svideo u Aleksandriji,
za tih deset dana svoga boravka,
Menelajev sin Arispomen,
vladar iz zapadne Libije.
Kao ime, i odeća mu, uljudno, helenska.
Rado je prihvatio počasti,
ali ih nije tražio: bio je skroman.
Kupovao je helenske knjige,
mahom iz istorije i filosofije.
Iznad svega, bio je škrt na rečima.
Mora da je dubokih misli, govorilo se,
a prirodno je što takvi ne pričaju suviše.
Nije bio dubokih misli, niti čega drugog.
Sasvim običan, smešan čovek.
Uzeo je helensko ime, odevao se poput Helena,
a naučio je, manje-više, i da se ponaša kao Heleni.
U duši je strepeo da slučajno
ne pokvari povoljan utisak
ako govori helenski sa strašnim varvarizmima,
a Aleksandrinci bi ga otkrili,
već po svom običaju, nesrećnici.
Stoga se ograničio na malo reči,
pazeći sa strahom na padeže i na izgovor;
i nisu ga malo mučili ti razgovori
koji su se gomilali u njemu.
At least let me now deceive myself with illusions
so as not to feel my empty life.
And yet I came so close so many times.
And yet how paralyzed I was, how cowardly;
why did I keep my lips sealed
while my empty life wept inside me,
my desires wore robes of mourning?
To have been so close so many times
to those sensual eyes, those lips,
to that body I dreamed of, loved.
To have been so close so many times.
September 1903
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