Treasure Island

Constantine P. Cavafy

(29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933 / Alexandria)

Candles


The days of the future stand in front of us
Like a line of candles all alight----
Golden and warm and lively little candles.
The days that are past are left behind,
A mournful row of candles that are out;
The nearer ones are still smoking,
Candles cold, and melted, candles bent.,
I don’t want to see them; their shapes hurt me,
It hurts me to remember the light of them at first.
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 candles multiply that have been put out.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Andrew Hodson (2/9/2011 2:03:00 PM)

    I actually like how it is put but if you think there is a translation that is better then please send the site or poem to me. :) (Report) Reply

  • Bessy Reyna (6/18/2010 5:42:00 PM)

    It would be good to know who the translator was.
    This is one of worst version I have ever read. (Report) Reply

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