C P Cavafy Quotes

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

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

You will always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere: there is no ship for you, there is no road. As you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner, you’ve destroyed it everywhere else in the world

Ithaka As you set out for Ithaka hope the voyage is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians and Cyclops, angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them: you’ll never find things like that on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians and Cyclops, wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them unless you bring them along inside your soul, unless your soul sets them up in front of you. Hope the voyage is a long one. May there be many a summer morning when, with what pleasure, what joy, you come into harbors seen for the first time; may you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things, mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony, sensual perfume of every kind— as many sensual perfumes as you can; and may you visit many Egyptian cities to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars. Keep Ithaka always in your mind. Arriving there is what you are destined for. But do not hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you are old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you have gained on the way, not expecting Ithaka to make you rich. Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey. Without her you would not have set out. She has nothing left to give you now. And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you. Wise as you will have become, so full of experience, you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

Άλλα ζητεί η ψυχή σου, γι’ άλλα κλαίει·

And if you can’t shape your life the way you want, at least try as much as you can not to degrade it by too much contact with the world, by too much activity and talk. Try not to degrade it by dragging it along, taking it around and exposing it so often to the daily silliness of social events and parties, until it comes to seem a boring hanger-on.

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.

And now, what’s going to happen to us without barbarians? They were, those people, a kind of solution.

You said, "I will go to another land, I will go to another sea. Another city will be found, better than this. Every effort of mine is condemned by fate; and my heart is-like a corpse-buried. How long in this wasteland will my mind remain. Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look I see the black ruins of my life here, where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted." New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas. The city will follow you. You will roam the same streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods; in these same houses you will grow gray. Always you will arrive in this city. To another land-do not hope- there is no ship for you, there is no road. As you have ruined your life here in this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world.2

In these dark rooms I pass such listless days, I wander up and down looking for the windows - when a window opens there will be some relief. But there are no windows, or at least I cannot find them. And perhaps it's just as well. Perhaps the light would prove another torment. Who knows what new things it would reveal? ("The Windows")

أيامنا القادمة تقف أمامنا مثل صف من الشموع ذهبية ودافئة، ومفعمة بالحياة أيامنا الماضية تذوي خلفنا، صفاً من الشموع المحترقة، ... ما يزال الدخان ينبعث من أقربها، شموع باردة، خامدة، ومحنية. لا أريد أن أنظر إليها فيتملكنى الرعب عندما أرى الصف المظلم يمتد والشموع المطفأة يتزايد عددها .

Hope the voyage is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery.

Anyway, those things would not have lasted long. The experience of the years shows it to me. But Destiny arrived in some haste and stopped them. The beautiful life was brief. But how potent were the perfumes, On how splendid a bed we lay, To what sensual delight we gave our bodies. An echo of the days of pleasure, An echo of the days drew near me, A little of the fire of the youth of both of us, Again I took in my hands a letter, And I read and reread till the light was gone. And melancholy, I came out on the balcony Came out to change my thoughts at least by looking at A little of the city that I loved, A little movement on the street and in the shops. Translated by Rae Dalven

Η Ιθάκη σ’ έδωσε τ’ ωραίο ταξείδι. Χωρίς αυτήν δεν θάβγαινες στον δρόμο.

عندما تتهيأ للرحيل إلى إيثاكا، تمنّ أن يكون الطريق طويلًا، حافلًا بالمغامرات، عامرًا بالمعرفة لا تخش الليستريجونات والسيكلوبات ولا بوسايدون الهائج لن تجد أبدًا أيًا من هؤلاء في طريقك إن بقي فكرك ساميًا، إن مست عاطفة نبيلة روحك وجسدك، لن تقابل الليستريجونات والسيكلوبات ولا بوزايدون العاتي، إن لم تحملهم في روحك، إن لم تستحضرهم روحك قدامك تمنّ أن يكون الطريق طويلاً، أن تكون صباحات الصيف عديدة، فتدخل المرافئ التي ترى لأول مرة، منشرحًا، جذلًا توقف بالأسواق الفينيقية، واقتن السلع الجيدة، أصدافًا ومرجانًا، كهرمانًا وأبنوسًا، وعطورا شهوانية من كل نوع، قدر ما يمكن من العطور الشهوانية، اذهب إلى كثير من المدن المصرية، تعلم، وتعلم ثانية، من الحكماء لتكن إيثاكا في روحك دائما الوصول إليها قدرك لكن لا تتعجل انتهاء الرحلة الأفضل أن تدوم سنوات طويلة وأن تكون شيخا حين تبلغ الجزيرة ثريا بما كسبته في الطريق، غير آمل أن تهبك ايثاكا ثراء إيثاكا منحتك الرحلة الجميلة لولاها ما كنت شددت الرحال وليس لديها ما تمنحك إياه أكثر من ذلك حتى وإن بدت لك ايثاكا فقيرة، فإنها لم تخدعك. ومادمت قد صرت حكيما، حائزا كل هذه الخبرة، فلا ريب أنك قد فهمت ما تعنيه الايثاكات.

If you cannot fashion your life as you would like, endeavour to do this at least, as much as you can: do not trivialize it through too much contact with the world, through too much activity and chatter. Do not trivialize your life by parading it, running around and displaying it in the daily stupidity of cliques and gatherings until it becomes like a tiresome guest. ("As Much As You Can")

Distinguishing Marks Every land has its distinguishing mark. Particular to Thessaly are horsemanship and horses; what marks a Spartan is war's season; Media has its tables with their dishes; hair marks the Celts, the Assyrians have beards. But the marks that distinguish Athens are Mankind and the Word.

From all I did and all I said let no one try to find out who I was. An obstacle was there that changed the pattern of my actions and the manner of my life. An obstacle was often there to stop me when I’d begin to speak. From my most unnoticed actions, my most veiled writing— from these alone will I be understood.

Without compunction, pity or shame, they've built towering walls around me. Desperate, I sit and think one thing: alone here this fate confounds me. For there were many things I'd hoped to do out there. With all the construction, how was I not aware? Yet the crack and clang of hammers I never once heard. Imperceptibly they've confined me from the outside world. ("Walls")

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.

Σα βγεις στον πηγαιμό για την Ιθάκη, να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος, γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις. Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας, τον θυμωμένο Ποσειδώνα μη φοβάσαι, τέτοια στον δρόμο σου ποτέ σου δεν θα βρεις, αν μέν’ η σκέψις σου υψηλή, αν εκλεκτή συγκίνησις το πνεύμα και το σώμα σου αγγίζει. Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας, τον άγριο Ποσειδώνα δεν θα συναντήσεις, αν δεν τους κουβανείς μες στην ψυχή σου, αν η ψυχή σου δεν τους στήνει εμπρός σου. Να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος. Πολλά τα καλοκαιρινά πρωιά να είναι που με τι ευχαρίστησι, με τι χαρά θα μπαίνεις σε λιμένας πρωτοειδωμένους· να σταματήσεις σ’ εμπορεία Φοινικικά, και τες καλές πραγμάτειες ν’ αποκτήσεις, σεντέφια και κοράλλια, κεχριμπάρια κ’ έβενους, και ηδονικά μυρωδικά κάθε λογής, όσο μπορείς πιο άφθονα ηδονικά μυρωδικά· σε πόλεις Aιγυπτιακές πολλές να πας, να μάθεις και να μάθεις απ’ τους σπουδασμένους. Πάντα στον νου σου νάχεις την Ιθάκη. Το φθάσιμον εκεί είν’ ο προορισμός σου. Aλλά μη βιάζεις το ταξείδι διόλου. Καλλίτερα χρόνια πολλά να διαρκέσει· και γέρος πια ν’ αράξεις στο νησί, πλούσιος με όσα κέρδισες στον δρόμο, μη προσδοκώντας πλούτη να σε δώσει η Ιθάκη. Η Ιθάκη σ’ έδωσε τ’ ωραίο ταξείδι. Χωρίς αυτήν δεν θάβγαινες στον δρόμο. Άλλα δεν έχει να σε δώσει πια. Κι αν πτωχική την βρεις, η Ιθάκη δεν σε γέλασε. Έτσι σοφός που έγινες, με τόση πείρα, ήδη θα το κατάλαβες η Ιθάκες τι σημαίνουν.

Ο ανύπαντρος ζει σαν άνθρωπος και πεθαίνει σαν σκύλος. Ο παντρεμένος ζει σαν σκύλος και πεθαίνει σαν άνθρωπος...

He came to read; two or three books are lying open: history and poetry. But after just ten minutes of reading he lets them drop. There on the sofa he falls asleep. He truly is devoted to reading- but he is twenty-three years old, and very handsome. And just this afternoon, Eros surged within his perfect limbs and on his lips. Into his beautiful flesh came the heat of passion, and there was no foolish embarrassment about the form that pleasure took..

You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore, find another city better than this one. Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong and my heart lies buried as though it were something dead. How long can I let my mind moulder in this place? Wherever I turn, wherever I happen to look, I see the black ruins of my life, here, where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally.” You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore. This city will always pursue you. You will walk the same streets, grow old in the same neighborhoods, will turn gray in these same houses. You will always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere: there is no ship for you, there is no road. As you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner, you’ve destroyed it everywhere else in the world.

I'll go to another country, go to another shore, find another city better than this one. Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong and my heart -like something dead- lies buried. How long can I let my mind moulder in this place? Wherever I turn, wherever I look, I see the black ruins of my life, here, where I've spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally." You won't find a new country, won't find another shore. This city will always pursue you. You'll walk the same streets, grow old in the same neighbourhoods, turn grey in these same houses. You'll always end up in this city. Don't hope for things elsewhere: there's no ship for you, there's no road. Now that you've wasted your life here, in this small corner, you've destroyed it everywhere in the world.

He said he'd hurt himself against a wall or had fallen down. But there was probably some other reason for the wounded, the bandaged shoulder. With a rather abrupt gesture, reaching for a shelf to bring down some photographs he wanted to look at, the bandage came came undone and a little blood ran. I did it up again, taking my time over the binding; he wasn't in pain and I liked looking at the blood. It was a thing of my love, that blood. When he left, I found, in front of his chair, a bloody rag, part of the dressing, a rag to be thrown straight into the garbage; and I put it to my lips and kept it there a long while- the blood of love against my lips.

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore. This city will always pursue you. You will walk the same streets, grow old in the same neighborhoods, will turn gray in these same houses. You will always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere: there is no ship for you, there is no road. As you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner, you’ve destroyed it everywhere else in the world.

SETI SE, TELO... Telo, seti se ne samo koliko si bilo voljeno, ne jedino kreveta na kojima si ležalo, nego i onih želja, koja su zbog tebe iskrile u onim jasnim očima i drhtale u glasu – a neka ih je slučajna prepreka osujetila. Sada, kad je sve to već u prošlosti, izgleda skoro kao da si se onim željama i predavalo – kako su iskrile, seti se, u očima što su te gledale: kako su drhtale u glasu zbog tebe, seti se, telo.

Before Jerusalem Now they've come before Jerusalem. Passions, avarice, and ambition, as well as their chivalrous pride have swiftly slipped from their souls. Now they've come before Jerusalem. In their ecstasy and their devoutness they've forgotten their quarrels with the Greeks; they've forgotten their hatred of the Turks. Now they've come before Jerusalem. And the Crusaders, so daring and invincible, so vehement in their every march and onslaught, are fearful and nervous and are unable to go further; they tremble like small children, and like small children weep, all weep, as they behold the walls of Jerusalem.

Return" Return often and take me, beloved sensation, return and take me -- when the memory of the body awakens, and an old desire runs again through the blood; when the lips and the skin remember, and the hands feel as if they touch again. Return often and take me at night, when the lips and the skin remember...

— Τι περιμένουμε στην αγορά συναθροισμένοι; Είναι οι βάρβαροι να φθάσουν σήμερα.

Vuelve a menudo y tómame, en la noche, cuando los labios y la piel recuerdan...

Yo bebí un vino fuerte, como sólo el audaz bebe el placer.

I have seen the absolute black; it was unspeakably beautiful.

Katharevousa savored, then, of official culture, the classical past, and high art. (To Forster, it “has tried to revive the classical tradition, and only succeeds in being dull.”)

From "Ships" The marketplaces of the Imagination have shops that are grand and opulent, but not of any great duration. Their transactions are brief, they dispose of their merchandise swiftly, and they are immediately liquidated.

It is one of the talents of great stylists to make obsolete words cease from appearing obsolete through the way in which they introduce them in their writing. Obsolete words which under the pens of others would seem stilted or out of place, occur most naturally under theirs. This is owing to the tact & judgment of the writers who know when--& when only—the disused term can be introduced, when it is artistically agreeable or linguistically necessary; & of course then the obsolete word becomes obsolete only in name. It is recalled into existence by the natural requirements of a powerful or subtle style. It is not a corpse disinterred (as with less skillful writers) but a beautiful body awaked from a long & refreshing sleep.

And now in a faint the miserable Lares, burrow in the depth of the shrine, one tumbles and stumbles upon the other, one little god falls over the other for they understand what sort of clamor this is, they are already feeling the footsteps of the Furies.

Honor to those who in the life they lead define and guard a Thermopylae. Never betraying what is right, consistent and just in all they do but showing pity also, and compassion; generous when they are rich, and when they are poor, still generous in small ways, still helping as much as they can; always speaking the truth, yet without hating those who lie. And even more honor is due to them when they foresee (as many do foresee) that in the end Ephialtis will make his appearance, that the Medes will break through after all.

Ithaca gave you the beautiful journey. Without her you would not have set out. She has nothing more to give you. And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not fooled you. Having become so wise, with so much experience, You will have understood, by then, what these Ithacas mean.

Wymarzone, ukochane głosy tych, co umarli, albo tych, co dla nas tak są straceni, jak umarli. Czasem do nas przemawiają w snach czasem je w zadumaniu słyszy umysł. A z ich brzmieniem powraca na chwilę dźwięki najpierwszej naszego życia poezji, jak muzyka, która nocą, gdzieś w dali, dogasa.

What he timidly imagined in his school days, is opened up, revealed to him. And he makes the rounds, stays out all night, gets swept up in things. And as is (for our art) only right, pleasure rejoices in his fresh, hot blood, an outlaw sensual abandon overcomes his body; and his youthful limbs give in to it.

THE WINDOWS Within these dark chambers, where I live through oppressive days, I pace up and down, trying to find the windows.-When a window opens, it will be a consolation. But the windows are not to be found, or I am unable to find them. And perhaps it's better that I don't. Perhaps the light will be a new tyranny. Who knows what novel things it will reveal.

Wśród lęku i podejrzeń, z zamętem w myślach, z trwogą w oczach, rozpaczliwie szukamy jakichkolwiek sposobów, aby uniknąć oczywistej grozy, która jest tuż przed nami. A jednak się mylimy: nie ma jej na drodze. Wieści kłamały (a może ich nie było albośmy ich nie pojęli). Zupełnie inna klęska, nigdy nie przeczuwana, nagle jak burza na nas spada i nie przygotowanych — a czasu już brak — zagarnia.

What matters to Cavafy, and what so often gives his work both its profound sympathy and its rich irony, is the understanding, which as he knew so well comes too late to too many, that however fervently we may act in the dramas of our lives—emperors, lovers, magicians, scholars, pagans, Christians, catamites, stylites, artists, saints, poets—only time reveals whether the play is a tragedy or a comedy.

Below the House Yesterday while strolling through a neighborhood on the edge of town, I passed below the house I used to go in when I was very young. There Eros had taken possession of my body with his exquisite force. And yesterday as I passed along that ancient street, suddenly everything was made beautiful by desire’s spell: the shops, the pavements, the stones, and walls, and balconies, and windows; there was nothing ugly that remained there.

On hearing about powerful love, respond, be moved like an aesthete. Only, fortunate as you’ve been, remember how much your imagination created for you. This first, and then the rest—the lesser loves— that you experienced and enjoyed in your life: the more real and tangible. Of loves like these you were not deprived — C.P. Cavafy, “Hearing of Love,” Collected Poems. Translated by Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrard. Edited by George Savidis. Revised Edition. (Princeton University Press 1992)

VLADAR IZ ZAPADNE LIBIJE Uglavnom se svideo u Aleksandriji, za tih deset dana svoga boravka, Menelajev sin Arispomen, vladar iz zapadne Libije. Kao ime, i odeća mu, uljudno, helenska. Rado je prihvatio počasti, ali ih nije tražio: bio je skroman. Kupovao je helenske knjige, mahom iz istorije i filosofije. Iznad svega, bio je škrt na rečima. Mora da je dubokih misli, govorilo se, a prirodno je što takvi ne pričaju suviše. Nije bio dubokih misli, niti čega drugog. Sasvim običan, smešan čovek. Uzeo je helensko ime, odevao se poput Helena, a naučio je, manje-više, i da se ponaša kao Heleni. U duši je strepeo da slučajno ne pokvari povoljan utisak ako govori helenski sa strašnim varvarizmima, a Aleksandrinci bi ga otkrili, već po svom običaju, nesrećnici. Stoga se ograničio na malo reči, pazeći sa strahom na padeže i na izgovor; i nisu ga malo mučili ti razgovori koji su se gomilali u njemu.

He Asked About The Quality" by C.P. Cavafy He left the office where he’d taken up a trivial, poorly paid job (eight pounds a month, including bonuses)— left at the end of the dreary work that kept him bent all afternoon, came out at seven and walked off slowly, idling his way down the street. Good-looking; and interesting: showing as he did that he’d reached his full sensual capacity. He’d turned twenty-nine the month before. He idled his way down the main street and the poor side-streets that led to his home. Passing in front of a small shop that sold cheap and flimsy things for workers, he saw a face inside there, saw a figure that compelled him to go in, and he pretended he wanted to look at some colored handkerchiefs. He asked about the quality of the handkerchiefs and how much they cost, his voice choking, almost silenced by desire. And the answers came back the same way, distracted, the voice hushed, offering hidden consent. They kept on talking about the merchandise—but the only purpose: that their hands might touch over the handkerchiefs, that their faces, their lips, might move close together as though by chance— a moment’s meeting of limb against limb. Quickly, secretly, so the shopowner sitting at the back wouldn’t realize what was going on.

As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one.

The wise man listens to meaning; the fool only gets the noise. The modern Greek poet C. P. Cavafy wrote a piece in 1915 after Philostratus’ adage “For the gods perceive things in the future, ordinary people things in the present, but the wise perceive things about to happen.

The wise man listens to meaning; the fool only gets the noise. The modern Greek poet C. P. Cavafy wrote a piece in 1915 after Philostratus’ adage “For the gods perceive things in the future, ordinary people things in the present, but the wise perceive things about to happen.” Cavafy wrote: In

You said: "I'll go to some other land, I'll go to some other sea. There's bound to be another city that's better by far. My every effort has been ill-fated from the start; my heart—like something dead—lies buried away; How long will my mind endure this slow decay? Wherever I look, wherever I cast my eyes, I see all round me the black rubble of my life where I've spent so many ruined and wasted years." You'll find no new places, you won't find other shores. The city will follow you. The street in which you pace will be the same, you'll haunt the same familiar places, and inside those same houses you'll grow old. You'll always end up in this city. Don't bother to hope for a ship, a route, to take you somewhere else; they don't exist. Just as you've destroyed your life, here in this small corner, so you've wasted it through all the world.