Constantine P. Cavafy

(29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933 / Alexandria)

Constantine P. Cavafy Poems

41. Footsteps 1/3/2003
42. For Ammonis, Who Died At 29, In 610 9/25/2012
43. From The School Of The Renowned Philosopher 4/7/2010
44. Greek From Ancient Times 3/23/2012
45. Grey 1/3/2003
46. Growing In Spirit 9/26/2012
47. Half An Hour 1/3/2003
48. He Asked About The Quality 9/26/2012
49. He Came To Read 1/3/2003
50. He Had Planned To Read 9/26/2012
51. He Vows 1/3/2003
52. Herodis Attikos 9/26/2012
53. Hidden 1/3/2003
54. Hidden Things 1/3/2003
55. I Went 1/3/2003
56. I´ve Looked So Much… 4/7/2010
57. If Actually Dead 3/23/2012
58. Imenos 9/26/2012
59. In 200 B.C. 1/3/2003
60. In A Town Of Osroini 9/26/2012
61. In A Township Of Asia Minor 3/23/2012
62. In Alexandria, 31 B.C. 3/23/2012
63. In An Old Book 3/23/2012
64. In Church 1/3/2003
65. In Despair 1/3/2003
66. In Sparta 3/23/2012
67. In The Boring Village 3/23/2012
68. In The Evening 9/26/2012
69. In The Harbor 1/3/2003
70. In The Month Athyr 4/7/2010
71. In The Same Space 1/3/2003
72. In The Street 9/26/2012
73. In The Tavernas 3/23/2012
74. Interruption 1/3/2003
75. Ionian 1/3/2003
76. Ionic 9/26/2012
77. Ithaca 1/3/2003
78. I'Ve Brought To Art 1/3/2003
79. I'Ve Looked So Much... 9/25/2012
80. John Kantakuzinos Triumphs 3/23/2012
Best Poem of Constantine P. Cavafy

Ithaca

When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
such as these you will never find
as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
emotion touch your spirit and your body.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - you will not meet them
unless you carry them in your soul,
unless your soul raise them up before you.

Ask that your way be long.
At many a Summer dawn to enter
with what gratitude, what joy -
ports seen ...

Read the full of Ithaca

Anna Comnena

In the prologue to her Alexiad,
Anna Comnena laments her widowhood.

Her soul is dizzy. "And with rivers
of tears," she tells us "I wet
my eyes... Alas for the waves" in her life,
"alas for the revolts." Pain burns her
"to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul."

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