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 … - Konstantinos P. Cavafy

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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.

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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 C. P. Cavafis Constantin Cavafy K. P. Kavaphēs K. P. Kavafis C. P. Cavafy Konstantine Kavafy Constantinos Cavafis Konstantino Kavafis Constantino Kavafis Konstantin Kavafis Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis Kōnstantinos Petrou Kavaphēs Kavafis Kōnstantinos Petrou Kabaphēs Kawafis Konstandinos Kavafis Konstantinas Kavafis C.P. Cavafy Constantine Peter Cavafy Kōnstantinos P. Kavafīs

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Additional quotes by Konstantinos P. Cavafy

وإن لم تستطع تشكيل حياتك كما تريد
فحاول -على الأقل- بقدر ما تستطيع
ألا تبتذلها
بالاحتكاك الزائد بالعالم
بالحركة والكلام الزائد
حاول ألا تبتذلها بجرجرتها هنا وهناك
بالطواف بها وتعريضها -كثيرًا- للسخافة اليومية
للأحداث والحفلات الاجتماعية
إلى أن تُصبح مثل عبٍ مُضجر

Days to come stand in front of us
like a row of lighted candles — golden, warm, and vivid candles.

Days gone by fall behind us,
a gloomy line of snuffed-out candles;
the nearest are smoking still,
cold, melted, and bent.

I don’t want to look at them: their shape saddens me,
and it saddens me to remember their original light.
I look ahead at my lighted candles.

I don’t want to turn for fear of seeing, terrified,
how quickly that dark line gets longer,
how quickly the snuffed-out candles proliferate.

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