Ideal voices we have greatly loved, of those that death has taken, or of those that are, for us, lost, even as are the dead. At times we hear them talking in our dreams; at times in thought they echo through the brain. And, with the sound of them, awhile recur sounds from the first poetry of our lives, — like music, on still nights, far off, that wanes. |
Translated by John Cavafy |
(Poems by C. P. Cavafy. Translated, from the Greek, by J. C. Cavafy. Ikaros, 2003) |
No comments:
Post a Comment