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"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 dre… - Konstantinos P. Cavafy
"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.
English
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About Konstantinos P. Cavafy
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
Also Known As
Native Name:
Κωνσταντίνος Πέτρου Καβάφης
Alternative Names:
Constantine kavafy
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C. P. Cavafis
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Constantin Cavafy
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K. P. Kavaphēs
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K. P. Kavafis
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C. P. Cavafy
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Konstantine Kavafy
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Constantinos Cavafis
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Konstantino Kavafis
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Constantino Kavafis
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Konstantin Kavafis
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Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis
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Kōnstantinos Petrou Kavaphēs
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Kavafis
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Kōnstantinos Petrou Kabaphēs
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Kawafis
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Konstandinos Kavafis
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Konstantinas Kavafis
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C.P. Cavafy
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Constantine Peter Cavafy
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Kōnstantinos P. Kavafīs
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Additional quotes by Konstantinos P. Cavafy
Before Jerusalem
Now they've come before Jerusalem.
Passions, avarice, and ambition,
as well as their chivalrous pride
have swiftly slipped from their souls.
Now they've come before Jerusalem.
In their ecstasy and their devoutness
they've forgotten their quarrels with the Greeks;
they've forgotten their hatred of the Turks.
Now they've come before Jerusalem.
And the Crusaders, so daring and invincible, so vehement in their every march and onslaught,
are fearful and nervous and are unable
to go further; they tremble like small children,
and like small children weep, all weep,
as they behold the walls of Jerusalem.
THE WINDOWS
Within these dark chambers, where I live through oppressive days, I pace up and down, trying to find the windows.-When a window opens, it will be a consolation.
But the windows are not to be found, or I am unable to find them. And perhaps it's better that I don't. Perhaps the light will be a new tyranny. Who knows what novel things it will reveal.
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