Constantine P. Cavafy

(29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933 / Alexandria)

Constantine P. Cavafy Poems

121. Priest At The Serapeum 1/3/2003
122. Remember, Body... 1/3/2003
123. Return 1/3/2003
124. Returning From Greece 9/26/2012
125. Sculptor Of Tyana 9/26/2012
126. Sensual Pleasures 1/3/2003
127. September, 1903 9/26/2012
128. Simeon 9/26/2012
129. Since Nine O'Clock 1/1/2004
130. So Much I Gazed 1/3/2003
131. Sophist Leaving Syria 3/23/2012
132. Supplication 1/3/2003
133. Temethos, Antiochian, A.D. 400 9/26/2012
134. That's The Man 9/26/2012
135. The Afternoon Sun 9/26/2012
136. The Bandaged Shoulder 1/3/2003
137. The Battle Of Magnesia 3/23/2012
138. The City 1/3/2003
139. The Displeasure Of Selefkidis 9/26/2012
140. The Favour Of Alexander Valas 9/26/2012
141. The First Step 1/3/2003
142. The Footsteps 9/26/2012
143. The Funeral Of Sarpedon 9/26/2012
144. The Glory Of The Ptolemies 9/26/2012
145. The God Abandons Anthony 1/3/2003
146. The Grave Of The Grammarian Lysias 1/3/2003
147. The Horses Of Achilles 3/23/2012
148. The Ides Of March 4/7/2010
149. The Mirror In The Hall 1/3/2003
150. The Next Table 9/26/2012
151. The Photograph 9/26/2012
152. 'The Rest I Will Tell To Those Down In Hades' 9/26/2012
153. The Retinue Of Dionysos 3/23/2012
154. The Satrapy 1/3/2003
155. The Souls Of Old Men 9/26/2012
156. The Town 1/3/2003
157. The Twenty-Fifth Year Of His Life 9/26/2012
158. The Window Of The Tobacco Shop 9/26/2012
159. The Windows 1/3/2003
160. Theatre Of Sidon (400 B.C.) 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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