I look before me at my lighted candles, I don’t want to turn around and see with horror How quickly the dark line is lengthening, How quickly the can… - Konstantinos P. Cavafy

Old Men’s Souls Within their ancient, decrepit bodies
the souls of old men wallow.
Poor things, so full of sorrow:
how bored with the wretched life they bear,
yet how they cherish it and how they fear
its loss, these contrary and befuddled
souls, tragicomically huddled
inside their ancient, desiccated hides.

When you set sail for Ithaca,
wish for the road to be long,
full of adventures, full of knowledge.

The god abandons Antony

When at the hour of midnight
an invisible choir is suddenly heard passing
with exquisite music, with voices — Do not lament your fortune that at last subsides,
your life’s work that has failed, your schemes that have proved illusions.
But like a man prepared, like a brave man,
bid farewell to her, to Alexandria who is departing.
Above all, do not delude yourself, do not say that it is a dream,
that your ear was mistaken.
Do not condescend to such empty hopes.
Like a man for long prepared, like a brave man,
like the man who was worthy of such a city,
go to the window firmly,
and listen with emotion
but not with the prayers and complaints of the coward
(Ah! supreme rapture!)
listen to the notes, to the exquisite instruments of the mystic choir,
and bid farewell to her, to Alexandria whom you are losing.