Constantine P. Cavafy: Poems

by Constantinos P. Cavafy, George Amabile (Editor), Manolis (Translator)

Translations, like everything else, wear out over time, as language, and those who read or use it, change. With a poet like Cavafy, who was so precisely tuned to the idiom of his peers, it is even more important to update the English versions of his poems frequently, so that they have the same immediate resonance with the times as the originals had with their time. This is, of course, an impossible task. There is no single word, much less any phrase, that has exactly the same weight and hierarchy of primary and secondary meanings in another language. Add to that the differences in sound patterns and rhythmic signatures or emphases, and it becomes clear that the best one can do is to approximate, sometimes by straying from the awkwardness of literal, dictionary definitions, the poetic effects of the original poems. Robert Lowell called his attempts "Imitations" and I think that the ambition and humility of that designation makes it a more or less accurate label for what is presented here, English versions of a celebrated body of work that could never have been written in English, much less in Canadian English with our vastly different history and culture, different even from the English that evolved in Britain over many centuries. Certainly there are problematics that have remained unresolved, and occasional passages of unavoidable clumsiness, but we have tried to approximate both Cavafy's intimate, precise sense of idiomatic speech, and his consummate ear for traditional forms revitalized by the Demotic Greek of Alexandria. If we haven't fully succeeded, our hope is that something of the poet's distinctive genius and skill remains, and remains accessible to our readers, if only as a trace element here and there, or in the cumulative force of the book as a whole.

– George Amabile, Editor

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Greece, Cairo, Modern Classics, LGBT

240 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1987

About the author

Constantine P. Cavafy (also known as Konstantin or Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis, or Kavaphes; Greek Κ.Π. Καβάφης) was a major Greek poet who worked as a journalist and civil servant. His consciously individual style earned him a place among the most important figures not only in Greek poetry, but in Western poetry as well. He has been called a skeptic and a neo-pagan. In his poetry he examines critically some aspects of Christianity, patriotism, and homosexuality, though he was not always comfortable with his role as a nonconformist. He published 154 poems; dozens more remained incomplete or in sketch form. His most important poetry was written after his fortieth birthday.

Reviews

[Adriana Scarpin · Rating 4 out of 5]

A poesia homoerótica do Kaváfis é excelente, mas o excesso temático em volta dos gregos clássicos (história e mitologia) chega a ser deveras enfadonho, mas dos mimos desta edição encontramos um longo prefácio de quase cem páginas escrito pelo tradutor José Paulo Paes que destrincha lindamente vida e obra de Kaváfis.
O único porém que encontrei na presente edição foi a não tradução integral da poesia do autor, se a obra completa de Kaváfis eram constituída de apenas 145 poemas, nada mais justo que tivesse sido lançado em sua integralidade por ser tão diminuta.

[Vesna · Rating 5 out of 5]

As GR doesn't allow to separately review different translations of the same poet, I had to shelve this smaller collection of his selected poems translated by Daniel Mendelsohn in lieu of Mendelsohn's translation of The Complete Poems of C.P. Cavafy which GR lumps together with all other editions as if all translations are the same! I do have this small collection in the Everyman's Library exquisite series, but it would make a nice little gift to a friend. To take the full advantage of Mendelson's invaluable annotations, especially relevant for the poems with references to historical and mythological figures, and his readable (though not always the best) translations, one should get the complete edition.

In his edition of complete poems, Mendelsohn includes both Cavafy's 'Canon' (that is, 154 poems that the poet privately printed in several collections during his lifetime) and 'unpublished' poems, some of which Cavafy retained but I find it a bit worrisome to also include those that he repudiated. The arrangement of the 'Canon' follows Cavafy's own decision to order the 1897-1918 poems in his three collections (1897-1904, 1905-1915, 1916-1919) according to their themes (reflective/philosophical, historical, and sensual/hedonic) and then the rest from 1919-1933 chronologically.

For my full review of Cavafy's poetry and a brief discussion of a few translations, see here.

[Dvd (#) · Rating 3 out of 5]

31/08/2019 (***)
Cominciando dalla semplice constatazione che non leggo mai poesia, e continuando con l'altrettanto semplice presa d'atto che a cominciare si è sempre in tempo, ho deciso di approcciare questo celebre autore che mi incuriosiva, essendo rimasto - a suo tempo - sbalordito da quel capolavoro che è Aspettando i barbari. Kavafis, poeta storico, diceva la critica. Potrebbe fare al caso mio, ho pensato, visto il sopraddetto incipit e visto come, con richiami da storico sopraffino, riusciva a dare lettura universale alla modernità e alle sue questioni.

Dalla lettura è invece emerso un poeta molto diverso da come me lo aspettavo. Grande, quello sicuramente. Ma anche molto più convenzionale di quanto credevo.

Convenzionale nel senso delle tematiche trattate, ovviamente, pur con tutte le specifiche del caso.
Del corpus poetico di Kavafis, la gran parte è incentrata sull'amore; l'altra parte, sulla necessità di nasconderlo, questo amore peccaminoso (Kavafis era omosessuale, ma anelava una tranquilla vita borghese - come ebbe poi nella realtà). Da questo centro, si dipana il resto e tutta la gamma di sentimenti e emozioni trattate nelle varie poesie.
Il contesto storico - ellenistico e bizantino, soprattutto - è estremamente residuale, e in ogni caso sempre funzionale a trattare le tematiche (o la tematica, se proprio vogliamo dirla tutta, dato che il fulcro da cui tutto il resto dipende è l'omosessualità dell'autore) sopra descritte. La stessa Aspettando i barbari, che in ogni caso per la molteplicità di significati a cui può ricondurre è giustamente intesa come il capolavoro assoluto di Kavafis, non è null'altro che una riflessione del poeta sulla sua vita personale, sul terrore di un'attesa infeconda nascosto dietro le mura (fragili) della sua apparente irreprensibilità borghese, da cui per carattere è attirato e da cui sa essere continuamente e inesorabilmente respinto per le sue inclinazioni sessuali, scandalose all'epoca e mai trattenute.

Il significato universale che io stesso gli avevo dato a una prima lettura, quello dell'attesa della venuta di ciò che è sconosciuto nella speranza che modifichi o stravolga il quotidiano, che è poi quello che riecheggiava in maniera diretta e implicita Il deserto dei tartari, era quindi errato.

Stesso discorso si può fare sulla restante parte del corpus poetico.

E purtroppo, io alle poesie d'amore sono abbastanza refrattario, e alla lunga finiscono per annoiarmi a morte. Che parlino di amore eterosessuale o omosessuale, è assolutamente indifferente.
Quando tutto, o quasi, è incentrato su quest'aspetto, rispettosamente faccio due passi indietro: non è il mio campo, e mi ci muovo come un elefante in una cristalleria. Avevo altre aspettative.

Concludo con i complimenti alla Garzanti per l'edizione: molto curata, ricca di note accesibili anche ai neofiti.

[Elena Sala · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cavafy (1863-1933) led an uninteresting life. He had a tedious job in the Alexandrian municipal bureaucracy in the "Third Circle of Irrigation", a Dantean name which sounds like a joke, but is not. He lived most of his life in poverty. But out of this shabby and banal existence came out one of the most exquisite modern poets. He wrote only about two subjects: history and love. Erotic homosexual love.
He was obsessed with history (he was a great reader of Gibbon). Many of his great poems are about the waning of Hellenism and the triumph of Oriental barbarism. These elusive, historical poems capture moments of loss and surrender and they dwell in the dissolution of a great and memorable world into a lesser, degraded one.
No triumphs in History in his poetry. Nor in love. His erotic poems tell also a story of desire, loss, defeat, the relentless advance of old age and the impermanence of beauty and love which reminded me of Catullus and Sappho. He captures evanescent moments of the agony and joy of raw physical love yet they are the saddest poetry I have read.
This edition (Everyman's), very well translated by scholar Daniel Mendelsohn, includes some indispensable explanatory notes required to tackle the historical poems.

[valia · Rating 2 out of 5]

His philosophical poems were indeed very beautifully written and thought-provoking! When it comes to the other ones [ (pseudo)historic, erotic ], i can get why there is all this hype about him, but they just weren’t my type.

[Ci · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cavafy — “Eyes Awry” — Poet of a different perspective of Greco-Roman myths and history

In Marjorie Garber’s brilliant “Shakespeare After All” (2008), I was alerted to the idea of “eyed awry”. As Garber said, in her analysis of Richard II :

There was in Elizabethan art a kind of picture known as “perspective,” or anamorphosis, a distorted projection so designed that when viewed from a particular point, or reflected in a mirror, it appears regular and correctly proportioned.In Richard II Bushy alludes to this art form in such a way as to make it clear that the audience would find it familiar, speaking of “perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon, / Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry, /Distinguish form” (2.2.18–20). One of the most famous examples of this painting practice in the early modern period is Hans Holbein the Younger's 1533 portrait The Ambassadors ...

.

As seen on Holbein's painting, momento mori, the skull, can only be seen with “eyed awry”. Looking straight on, we only see vanitas and worldly glory.

This awry perspective on Greco-Roman myth and history can lead to powerful insights. Cavafy’s Ithaca matching Tennyson’s Ulysses , taking the narrative of the Ulysses journey into the realm of Life’s Meaning. Often with a direct, plain-speaking, yet surprising “eyed awry” perspective, Cavafy’s early poems (1905 -1915) are simply cut diamonds, sparkling a direct fire to ancient myths, persons, events, and scenes. Nearly every poem that segment is worth admiration and comment. My particular favorites beside the glorious Ithaca are: the wry and wary Theodotus, a sage’s voice directing to Julius Caesar, and the passionate nobility in The God Abandons Antony .

The poems from 1916 onward are mixture of erotic love poems of beauty, encounters, longings and lamentations. Later poems, perhaps due to the poet’s aging, contain more reference to bodily decline and religious sentiment. Remember, Body perhaps is the best summary.

A segment of poems may be called “general themes of life and work”, without any explicit reference to myth, history nor a particular moment in observation or reflection. These poems may be grouped as “message-in-bottle” per Edward Hirsch’s metaphor of poetry. There are many, ranging from the cautionary Dangerous for dallying addictive vice with the delusional “I can quit whenever I can” willfulness, to The City for the vacuity of rootless wandering, Interruption for the disruptive forces of emotions on our work. For those of us trying to live a life of mind, here is the unsurpassable advice in As Much As You Can

And even if you cannot make our life the way you
want it,
this much, at least, try to do
as much as you can: don’t cheapen it
with too much intercourse with society,
with too much movement and conversation.
Don’t cheapen it by taking it about,
making the rounds with it, exposing it
to the everyday inanity
of relations and connections,
so it become like a stranger, burdensome.

Daniel Mendelsohn's translation is crisp clean, with uncluttered English rendering the perfection of Cavafy's poetic fire. While I have limited appreciation in Cavafy's love poems, his classical and philosophically themed poems made true of this small, cloth-bonded pocket-size book to be "Be thy guide/in thy most need/to go by thy side".

[Mersini · Rating 2 out of 5]

I quite liked Cafavy when I encountered his poetry in my first year of university, but reading them now, I did not find myself engaging at all. That's part of the reason it took me so damn long to finish. I just did not care. Many of his poems were about the same thing - namely about embarking on affairs with young men, or pining over those he couldn't have. And those poems which were not about these things, referenced events and people that I knew nothing about, and therefore went completely over my head.

[Paradoxe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Τα Άπαντα του Καβάφη, αναγνωρισμένα και αποκηρυγμένα δεν είναι ένα έργο που αφήνεις πίσω, σε συνοδεύει. Προσωπικά, δεν τρέφω καμιά εκτίμηση στην ποίηση, είναι η μοναδική εξαίρεση ως τώρα.

[★ray's bookshelf★ · Rating 5 out of 5]

His poems are really beautiful and my fav is the one that he wrote about his dead friends and how much he misses them and how lonely he feels that poem made me cry so much this is really sad and beautiful at the same time

[Klaus Mattes · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ihr Ursprung

Ihr verbotener Genuß hat sich erfüllt.
Sie erheben sich von ihrem Lager.
Ohne ein Wort zu wechseln, ziehen sie sich hastig an
Und verlassen heimlich, getrennt, das Haus.
Als sie, leicht unbehaglich, durch die Straße gehen,
Scheinen sie zu befürchten, daß etwas an ihnen verraten könnte,
Welcher Art Liebe sie sich gerade hingegeben.

Doch welch ein Gewinn für das Leben des Künstlers!
Morgen, übermorgen oder Jahre später wird er
Kraftvolle Verse schreiben, die hier ihren Ursprung hatten.

Der von 1863 bis 1933 lebende Konstantinos Kavafis war einer von den Großstädtern, die fast das ganze Leben, unterbrochen nur von ein paar Reisen, in ihrer Geburtsstadt, bei ihm war es Alexandria in Ägypten, verbracht haben. Er blieb unverheiratet und ging fast jeden Tag dieselben paar Straßen, von der Wohnung zum Büro, nach Dienstschluss zurück, gelegentlich um die Ecke ins Lokal. An Kafka und Pessoa denkt man da sofort. Bei diesem Angestellten, richtiger: Regierungsbeamten, war es das Amt für Wasserwirtschaft, das den Hintergrund zum unspektakulären Leben lieferte. Außerdem ist Kavafis einer gewesen, der sein Leben „in der Fremde“ verbracht hat, Grieche in der arabischen Welt, so vielleicht an Nabokov erinnernd, Gombrowicz oder Naipaul. Er kam aus einer gut betuchten Kaufmannsfamilie, hat das Mutterland nur gelegentlich mal bei Besuchen in Athen gesehen. Und er lebte noch in einer Region, die damals faktisch von den Engländern dominiert wurde, sodass die allermeisten auf der Erde ihn wohl immer noch unter einem englischen Namen kennen: Cavafy.

Am Tisch nebenan

Er wird kaum zweiundzwanzig sein, und dennoch
bin ich sicher, vor mindestens ebenso vielen Jahren
Denselben Körper genossen zu haben.

Das ist keine Täuschung meiner Begierden.
Ich bin noch nicht lange im Nachtlokal
Und hatte keine Zeit, viel zu trinken.
Denselben Körper habe ich genossen!

Ich weiß nicht mehr wo – aber diese eine Gedächtnislücke bedeutet nichts.
Jetzt setzt er sich an den Tisch nebenan.
Ich erkenne jede seiner Bewegungen – und unter den Kleidern
Sehe ich wieder den nackten Körper, den ich liebte.

E. M. Forster, Autor von „Maurice“ und „Eine Reise nach Indien“, lernte ihn noch in Ägypten während des Ersten Weltkrieges kennen und bot ihm an, seine Gedichte auf Englisch erscheinen zu lassen. Kavafis legte aber keinen Wert darauf, aus der Sache wurde nichts. Wahrscheinlich hatte er damals schon im Sinn, nicht zu Lebzeiten, sondern erst als Toter der Welt die Wahrheit zuzumuten. Mit der ersten großen griechischen Ausgabe im Jahr 1963 war der Nachruhm dann schlagartig da.

Körper, erinnere dich...

Körper, erinnere dich nicht nur daran, wie oft du geliebt wurdest,
Nicht nur an die Betten, in denen du lagst,
Sondern auch an jenes Verlangen nach dir,
Das aus offenen Augen strahlte,
An das Zittern der Stimmen - und wie
Ein zufälliges Hindernis es vereitelte.
Jetzt, da alles der Vergangenheit angehört,
Scheint es fast, als ob du dich auch
Jenem Verlangen hingabst - wie es strahlte,
Erinnere dich, aus Augen, die auf dich gerichtet waren,
Wie die Stimmen nach dir zitterten, erinnere dich, Körper.

Wie bei Sandro Penna sind Kavafis‘ beste Arbeiten seine absichtlich schlichten, etwas erzählerischen Gedichte über flüchtige erotische Begegnungen mit jungen Männern und Jugendlichen aus Bevölkerungskreisen, denen sein eigener sozial übergeordnet war. Schwules, päderastisches Leben in einer Welt um den Ersten Weltkrieg herum, Ägypten, England, mithin immer verstohlen, „auf der Flucht“ vor fremden Augen. Wenn auf Seiten Kavafis' schon auch aus einer gewissen Position der Macht heraus. Der Häufigkeit der Nennungen in den Gedichten nach geurteilt schient Kavafis' bevorzugtes Alter bei 23 oder 24 Jahren gelegen zu haben, auch als er selbst schon viel älter war, er wurde 70. Er liebt es aus einer Art milder Herbststimmung seines Lebens heiter auf die jüngeren, strafferen Körper zu blicken. Er ist aber einer von den Ersten, der genau das auch betont: die überragende Rolle, die Fleisch für schwule Männer spielt.

Er schwört

Er schwört manchmal, ein besseres Leben zu beginnen.
Doch wenn die Nacht anbricht, mit ihrem eigenen Rat,
Mit ihren Kompromissen, ihren Versprechungen;
Doch wenn die Nacht anbricht, mit ihrer eigenen Macht
Über den Körper, der begehrt und verlangt, kehrt er,
Verloren, zurück zum gleichen verhängnisvollen Vergnügen.

Im Jahr 1902, er war also fast schon vierzig, hatte Kavafis notiert: „Heute abend kam es mir in den Sinn, über meine Liebe zu schreiben. Und doch werde ich es nicht tun. Welche Macht das Vorurteil hat! Ich habe mich davon befreit; aber ich denke an die Versklavten, die dieses Stück Papier unter die Augen bekommen könnten. Und ich halte inne. Welcher Kleinmut! Doch werde ich einen Buchstaben - T - als Symbol dieses Augenblicks aufzeichnen.“ Einen Monat später dann: „Ich weiß nicht, ob die Perversion Kraft gibt. Manchmal glaube ich es schon. Aber mit Sicherheit ist sie eine Quelle der Größe.“ Hin und her gerissen zwischen Verschweigen und Überliefern entstanden bis Anfang der dreißiger Jahre dann doch zahlreiche „schwule“ Gedichte, die gerade wegen ihrer Sachlichkeit und Bescheidenheit immer noch zeitgenössisch und modern wirken. Schön gesammelt hat man diesen Werkkomplex lange Zeit im rosa eingebundenen Bändchen „Um zu bleiben“ aus der Bibliothek Suhrkamp bekommen, bebildert mit Federzeichnungen von David Hockney, heute ein wertvolles Sammlerstück.

Eine Nacht

Das Zimmer war ärmlich und alltäglich,
Es lag versteckt über einem zwielichtigen Lokal.
Vom Fenster blickte man auf die enge
Und schmutzige Gasse. Von unten herauf
Drangen die Stimmen der Arbeiter,
Die Karten spielten und sich amüsierten.

Und dort, auf dem bescheidenen, gewöhnlichen Bett,
Habe ich den Körper der Liebe genossen,
Lippen, sinnlich und rosig vom Rausch,
Rosig von einem solchen Rausch, daß ich noch
Jetzt, nach so vielen Jahren, da ich in meinem
Einsamen Haus schreibe, wieder trunken davon werde.

Die vollständige deutsche Lyrikausgabe hat dann aber erst 1997 der heute nicht mehr existente Zürcher Ammann Verlag veranstaltet: „Das Gesamtwerk“. Aus dem nach dieser Ausgabe entstandenen Fischer-Taschenbuch habe ich die Zitate hierfür abgetippt. Dazu ist zu sagen, was auch in Stimmen internationaler Reviewer-Kollegen hier in Goodreads zu ahnen ist: Die Gesamtausgabe ist eher zu viel Text! Der griechische Autor hat nicht nur Jünglinge bedichtet, sondern auch sehr reichlich heroische und mythologische Texte zur griechischen Nationalkultur beigetragen.

Das Schaufenster des Tabakladens

Vor dem hell erleuchteten Schaufenster
Des Tabakladens standen sie zwischen vielen anderen.
Zufällig trafen sich ihre Blicke
Und drückten, etwas schüchtern und zögernd,
Die verbotene Begierde ihrer Körper aus.
Dann ein paar unruhige Schritte auf dem Bürgersteig
Bis zu einem Lächeln, einem leichten Nicken.

Und endlich der geschlossene Wagen,
Das sinnliche Sich-Nähern der Körper,
Die Vereinigung von Händen und Lippen.

Naturgemäß kann ich, anders als der Kollege die schwulen Sachen nicht schlecht finden; mir kommen sie gerade wie das Beste überhaupt vor. Fand allerdings viele andere Seiten schwer erträglich, schwer verständlich, sehr langweilig. Wer Gelegenheit findet, an die alte Auswahl „Um zu bleiben“ zu kommen, soll erst einmal die nehmen! (Dummerweise hat Suhrkamp das nicht mehr im Programm, dafür ausgerechnet die Historischen Gedichte.)

Tage von 1908

In jenem Jahr war er arbeitslos
Und lebte daher vom Kartenspiel,
Brettspiel und vom Leihen.

Man hatte ihm eine Stelle für drei Pfund im Monat
In einer kleinen Schreibwarenhandlung angeboten,
Er lehnte sie aber ohne jede Bedenken ab.
Das war nicht genug. Das war kein Geschäft für ihn,
Einen gebildeten jungen Mann von fünfundzwanzig Jahren.

Er gewann ab und zu zwei, drei Schillinge am Tag.
Wie sollte er beim Karten- und Brettspiel schon
Mehr gewinnen in den armen Kaffeehäusern seiner Schicht,
Auch wenn er gewieft spielte und noch dazu mit Stümpern?
Mit dem Leihen war es noch schlimmer.
Nur selten trieb er einen Taler auf, öfter einen halben.
Manchmal mußte er sich sogar mit einem Schilling begnügen.

Wenn er für eine Woche oder manchmal länger
Von dieser unangenehmen Nachtarbeit loskam, ging er
In der Frühe zum Strandbad schwimmen.

Seine Kleider waren in einem beklagenswerten Zustand.
Stets trug er denselben Anzug.
Einen verschossenen, zimtfarbenen Anzug.

Ach, Sommertage von neunzehnhundertacht!
In der Erinnerung an sie ist er zum Glück
Verschwunden, dieser zimtfarbene Anzug.

Die Erinnerung bewahrt ihn genau, wie er war,
Als er seine unwürdigen Kleider
Und seine geflickte Unterwäsche auszog und
Völlig nackt dastand, eine makellose Schönheit, ein Wunder;
Sein ungekämmtes, zurückgestrichenes Haar,
Seine Glieder von der Sonne leicht gebrannt −
Nackt am Strand in der Frühe.

[Blagovest Asenov · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ovid once said, “Let others praise ancient times; I am glad I was born in these.”

No other Eastern European poet bridges ancient times and modern values quite like Cavafy. In his early work, before his fascination with the unfading beauty of past lovers took hold, Cavafy created some of the most enduring poetry of the 20th century.

“Waiting for the Barbarians” is a cunning satire on the paralysis of a state suffering from a lack of responsibility, waiting passively for change.

“In a Township of Asia Minor” reflects the indifference of ordinary people toward the constant shifts in power, revealing how little external forces affect the everyday human life.

“God Abandons Antony” is an allegory of a man facing the uncertainties of fate, with Alexandria—the ultimate prize of one’s efforts—slipping away. The poem symbolizes loss and fading hope. Leonard Cohen’s song “Alexandra Leaving” is loosely based on this poem.

I must also mention “The City.” Not only is it an exploration of the poet’s connection to his birthplace and its impact on him, but it was also recognized by Nobel Prize-winning author Orhan Pamuk as a key inspiration for his novel “Istanbul.”

My personal favorite, and arguably Cavafy’s most well-known poem, is “Ithaca.” It’s a resonant piece of literature that celebrates the journey—the odyssey itself—rather than the final destination:

---

“Ithaca”

As you set out on the way to Ithaca
hope that the road is a long one,
filled with adventures, filled with discoveries.
The Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes,
Poseidon in his anger: do not fear them,
you won’t find such things on your way
so long as your thoughts remain lofty, and a choice
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes,
savage Poseidon; you won’t encounter them
unless you stow them away inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up before you.

Hope that the road is a long one.
Many may the summer mornings be
when—with what pleasure, with what joy—
you first put in to harbors new to your eyes;
may you stop at Phoenician trading posts
and there acquire the finest wares:
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and heady perfumes of every kind:
as many heady perfumes as you can.
Many Egyptian cities may you visit
that you may learn, and go on learning, from their sages.
Always in your mind keep Ithaca.
To arrive there is your destiny.
But do not hurry your trip in any way.
Better that it last for many years;
that you drop anchor at the island an old man,
rich with all you’ve gotten on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the beautiful journey;
without her you wouldn’t have set upon the road.
But now she has nothing left to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca didn’t deceive you.
As wise as you will have become, with so much experience,
you will have understood by then what Ithacas mean.

---

This poem, to me, is the ultimate reflection on life’s purpose—focusing on the lessons and experiences of the journey, rather than the riches or rewards of the final destination.

[Randy Wilson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Constantine Cavafy was an Alexandrian Greek poet whose work is steeped in Ancient Greek history. My favorite poem is ‘King Demetrius’ and Cavafy shows how differently a few words can make about what we think of a man’s character. Many other poems about the sea, churches, relics of past civilizations hold longing and desires so effectively that even if these things don’t have resonances for me, the poems produce them in me anyway.

As a gay man though, I particularly feel the desire he conveys about maleness and the male body. There is also the midnight life hidden from daily view of male bodies enjoying each other’s company. This poetry isn’t free of homophobia as much of it reeks of illicitness; drugs, debauchery, petty crimes and the inevitable loss of innocence. It’s hard for me to believe that straight men in the midnight hour showed much more innocence than the gay ones.

[DW · Rating 2 out of 5]

Cavafy is an incredibly honest poet, but excessive. His words are too lugubrious to leave room for any real sorrow.

I feel like I am missing something by not getting into him. I still appreciate some of his lines and recommend livening up your lunch hour by reading some of his popular poems. Just not a book's worth of them. He forced me to buff up on my mythology, which was fun, and I must admit he is a master of the mythological allusion.

[Antonio Rubio · Rating 5 out of 5]

El mejor poeta.

En sus versos hay una inteligencia y un sentido del deseo tan agudo que solo queda destacar su carácter universal, a pesar del contexto heroico (mitológico e histórico) de muchos de sus poemas.

Sus versos eróticos siguen siendo actuales y, ahora más que nunca, hay que leerlos y leerlos para comprender el movimiento "queer" en la poesía moderna.

[David Klingenberger · Rating 2 out of 5]

He’s not my poet; maybe he’s yours.

[Cristina · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 estrellas porque no hay más. La poesía de Kavafis es extraordinaria. Desde los poemas eróticos que encontré por la red con un prólogo de Vargas Llosa, pasando por los nostálgicos, los vitalistas y los incontables que rinden homenaje a la mitología e historia griegas.

Él es el Mediterráneo.

Una selección personal:

Velas

Los días del futuro están delante de nosotros
como una hilera de velas encendidas
-velas doradas, cálidas, y vivas.
Quedan atrás los días ya pasados,
una triste línea de veles apagadas;
las más cercanas aún despiden humo,
velas frías, derretidas, y dobladas.
No quiero verlas; sus formas me apenan,
y me apena recordar su luz primera.
Miro adelante mis velas encendidas.
No quiero volverme, para no verlas y temblar,
cuán rápido la línea oscura crece,
cuán rápido aumentan las velas apagadas.



Fui

Nada me retuvo. Me liberé y fui.
Hacia placeres que estaban
tanto en la realidad como en mi ser,
a través de la noche iluminada.
Y bebí. 'un vino fuerte,
como sólo los audaces beben el placer.


Cuanto puedas

Y si no puedes hacer tu vida como la quieres,
en esto esfuérzate al menos
cuanto puedas: no la envilezcas
en el contacto excesivo con la gente,
en demasiados trajines y conversaciones.
No la envilezcas llevándola,
trayéndola a menudo y exponiéndola
a la torpeza cotidiana
de las compañías y las relaciones,
hasta que llegue a ser pesada como una extraña.


Y quizá uno de los más famosos y más bellos también:

Cuando emprendas tu viaje a Itaca
pide que el camino sea largo,
lleno de aventuras, lleno de experiencias.
No temas a los lestrigones ni a los cíclopes
ni al colérico Poseidón,
seres tales jamás hallarás en tu camino,
si tu pensar es elevado, si selecta
es la emoción que toca tu espíritu y tu cuerpo.
Ni a los lestrigones ni a los cíclopes
ni al salvaje Poseidón encontrarás,
si no los llevas dentro de tu alma,
si no los yergue tu alma ante ti.

Pide que el camino sea largo.
Que muchas sean las mañanas de verano
en que llegues -¡con qué placer y alegría!-
a puertos nunca vistos antes.
Detente en los emporios de Fenicia
y hazte con hermosas mercancías,
nácar y coral, ámbar y ébano
y toda suerte de perfumes sensuales,
cuantos más abundantes perfumes sensuales puedas.
Ve a muchas ciudades egipcias
a aprender, a aprender de sus sabios.

Ten siempre a Itaca en tu mente.
Llegar allí es tu destino.
Mas no apresures nunca el viaje.
Mejor que dure muchos años
y atracar, viejo ya, en la isla,
enriquecido de cuanto ganaste en el camino
sin aguantar a que Itaca te enriquezca.

Itaca te brindó tan hermoso viaje.
Sin ella no habrías emprendido el camino.
Pero no tiene ya nada que darte.

Aunque la halles pobre, Itaca no te ha engañado.
Así, sabio como te has vuelto, con tanta experiencia,
entenderás ya qué significan las Itacas.

Este último musicado por Lluís Llach en catalán aquí:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbDLL...

Encontré un documental que no llega a durar media hora sobre Alejandría y que menciona a Kavafis: http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/el...

Para releer toda la vida.

[Sammy · Rating 2 out of 5]

So, to be clear, I'm not giving Cavafy's poems 2 stars; my opprobrium is reserved for Daniel Mendelsohn's dishearteningly dead translations. Yes, Cavafy was writing free verse in the modernist vein. Yes, his poetic tone often borders on conversational. But Mendelsohn has decided to ignore the rhythmic torrents of the great poet's work, to select the most mundane word in any situation, to replace the feeling with the cerebral, rather than let the two walk hand in hand. The conversational, perhaps, has become colloquial.

It is certainly impressive for Mendelsohn to have translated all of Cavafy's poems (this edition is a "highlights reel" from the full two-volume collection). This should not be taken as a slight on his lifetime of work or his command of Greek! (Who am I to make such judgments?) Yet dedication alone, however admirable, is not achievement. Perhaps it's an American thing - or a generational one! Mendelsohn's collection has been rapturously received by American institutions, and I suspect there is something appealing, to those soaked in the American literary tradition, in the understated ordinariness of this verse.

As one who does not have Greek, it would be folly to discuss the art of translation in this context. So allow me to compare just two lines from Cavafy's most famous poem The City to try and express the intangible something which I find to be missing from DM's translation.

Here is DM:
"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."

Here Edmund Keeley:
" You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there’s no ship for you, there’s no road."

Rae Delven:
"Always you will arrive in this city. Do not hope for any other–
There is no ship for you, there is no road."

Theoharis C. Theoharis:
"Always you will end up in this city.
For you there is no boat - abandon hope of that -
no road to other things."

And finally Lawrence Durrell, consciously "transplanting" rather than "translating", in a version from the appendices to his Justine:
"The city is a cage.
No other places, always this
Your earthly landfall, and no ship exists
To take you from yourself."

Four versions of Cavafy I would enjoy reading. And none of them Mendelsohn's.

[André · Rating 5 out of 5]

Citaat : Een nacht dat het mooie licht van de maan/ mijn kamer in stroomde… de fantasie greep iets/ uit het leven: een heel gering feit –/ een ver tafereel, een verre lust –/ en bracht zo haar eigen lijfelijk beeld/ haar eigen beeld naar een erotisch bed…

uit: 'Geboorte van een gedicht' (februari 1922)
Review : 2013 werd door UNESCO uitgeroepen tot het jaar van K.P. Kavafis, omdat het zijn honderdvijftigste verjaardag was. Het werk van de Griekse dichter (1863–1933) bestaat uit ‘De 154 gedichten’, zoals ze genoemd worden, plus nog vier verworpen, 27 onuitgegeven en 33 onvoltooide gedichten. Van de laatste hebben Warren en Molegraaf in hun uitgebreide vertaling Gedichten (2002) er 29 opgenomen.



Mario Molegraaf heeft nu de onvoltooide afzonderlijk uitgegeven. Het komt erop neer dat de eerdere vertalingen grondig door Molegraaf zijn herzien, wat in alle gevallen een aanzienlijke verbetering heeft opgeleverd; ook heeft hij de ontbrekende vier gedichten toegevoegd en de vaak wat wijdlopige toelichtingen in de verzamelbundel verkort en toegespitst. Daarmee is deze, overigens sober vormgegeven afzonderlijke publicatie van de 'ateli', zoals ze in het Grieks worden genoemd, een prijzenswaardige daad.



Kavafis' poëzie staat in de hele wereld, maar ook in Nederland en Vlaanderen, zeer hoog aangeschreven. De onvoltooide poëzie is vooral zo interessant omdat het om werk uit Kavafis’ laatste levensjaren gaat. Gedichten die hij af had willen maken. Onwaarschijnlijk heldere gedichten over schemergebieden in de geschiedenis, over duistere homo-erotische contacten. Ze werden overgeleverd in een soort dossiers, wat iets zegt over de haast wetenschappelijke wijze waarop de poëet het dichten benaderde.

[Danielle Aleixo · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the greatest Greek poets. Ithaca and Barbarians are certainly among the best poems of Cavafy!

Ithaca

When you start on your journey to Ithaca,
then pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
Do not fear the Lestrygonians
and the Cyclopes and the angry Poseidon.
You will never meet such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your body and your spirit.
You will never meet the Lestrygonians,
the Cyclopes and the fierce Poseidon,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not raise them up before you.

Then pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many,
that you will enter ports seen for the first time
with such pleasure, with such joy!
Stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and corals, amber and ebony,
and pleasurable perfumes of all kinds,
buy as many pleasurable perfumes as you can;
visit hosts of Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from those who have knowledge.

Always keep Ithaca fixed in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for long years;
and even to anchor at the isle when you are old,
rich with all that you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would never have taken the road.
But she has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not defrauded you.
With the great wisdom you have gained, with so much experience,
you must surely have understood by then what Ithacas mean.”

-K. P. Kavafis (C. P. Cavafy),

[Lawrence Hall · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have no Greek, and so cannot know if Daniel Mendelsohn’s translation is accurate – and of course poetry can hardly be translated at all - but it is certainly clear and attractive.

Mr. Mendelsohn quotes E. M. Forster as saying of Cavafy, whom he met in Alexandria during the First World War, “…a Greek Gentleman in a straw hat, standing absolutely motionless at a slight angle to the universe.”

Well, what better praise can there be!

Cavafy was born, lived, and died in Alexandria, with brief terms in England, Constantinople, and Athens. He was a subject of the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, then a subject of the British occupation, and finally a subject of the King of Egypt. His occupation as a scrivener in a government department, but his social life was, and his multi-lingual knowledge of Greek, Latin, and Egyptian culture and history, which appears in his poems, make him a fascinating individual.

The man does bang on (so to speak) about his sexual orientation and about his compromises with his cultural milieu and his beliefs, but is never tiresome; indeed, he reflects our own tensions with the cultures in which we live.

This is another wonderful volume from the Everyman Pocket Poets series; if I were ever to win the lottery or be surprised with an inheritance from a wealthy relative in Finland I would order the lot. These small editions really do fit into one’s pocket, and yet they are easily readable with clear type on good-quality off-white pages.

[Jake Twigg · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank god for google translate :)
---

"What He Did... The Great Refusal"
For some people, there comes a day when
they have to say the big Yes or the big No.
It manifests itself immediately to anyone who
has the Yes ready within him, and by saying it

he goes to his honor and his conviction.
The denier does not repent. If asked again,
he would say no again. And yet that no —
the right no — haunts him throughout his life.
---

"Candles"
The days of the future stand before
us in a row of lighted candles —
golden, warm, and lively candles.

The past days are left behind, a
sad line of extinguished candles;
the ones nearer are still smoking,
cold candles melted and bent.

I don't want to see them, I am saddened by their
form, and I am saddened by their first light to
remember. I throw my lit candles in front.

I don't want to turn around, so I don't see
how fast the dark line is getting longer,
how fast the extinguished candles are multiplying.
---

"The Windows"
In these dark rooms, where I spend heavy
days, I wander up and down to
find the windows — when a window
opens it will be a consolation. —
But the windows are not there, or I can't
find them. And maybe it's better not to find them.
Maybe the light will be a new tyranny.
Who knows what new things he will show.

[Restless Books · Rating 4 out of 5]

At the risk of sounding insufferably pretentious, this week I want to write about a book of Greek poetry that my father brought me as a gift on his last visit to New York. The collection is titled “Αποκυρηγμένα” (���Disavowed”), and consists of celebrated Greek poet Constantine Cavafy’s early poems and translations; these were published in his youth, but are never included in his formal body of work. Cavafy is primarily known and celebrated for his historical poems, which often portray heroes of antiquity or of the Hellenistic era in their decline. It was fascinating to see how Cavafy began to develop his distinct voice, draw inspiration from historical subjects, and build on the use of subtle, dry irony in these very early, and often not quite polished works. While this particular collection is not (as far as I know) available in translation, I would wholeheartedly recommend one of the many editions of his complete poems in English.

The Collected Poems: with parallel Greek text (Oxford World’s Classics)

The Complete Poems of Cavafy (Mariner Books)

Complete Poems (Knopf)

C. P. Cavafy: Collected Poems (Princeton University Press)

and many more.

–Alex Sarrigeorgiou

See more at www.restlessbooks.com/blog

[Pierre · Rating 5 out of 5]

This collection is likely to appeal to readers, like me, who are interested in ancient Greece and Rome. Many of the poems reimagine and recreate the people, places, and events of antiquity.

Other poems recollect clandestine homosexual encounters -- Cavafy clearly lived and loved fully, if not openly, due to the social strictures of Alexandria, Egypt, in the early 1900s.

What surprised and delighted me most in this collection were the poems about growing old. Here's one of my favorites:

CANDLES
The days of the future stand before us
like a row of little lighted candles —
golden, warm, and vibrant little candles.

The days that have gone by remain behind us,
a melancholy line of candles now snuffed out;
the closest still give off their smoke,
cold candles, melted down, bent out of shape.

I don’t want to see them; their appearance saddens me,
and I’m saddened, too, to recall their former light.
I look in front of me, at my lighted candles.

I don’t want to turn around lest I see and tremble at
how quickly the darkened line is growing longer,
how quickly the snuffed-out candles multiply.

[Mary Margaret · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think this is a well-written collection of poems that contain interest in their style of narrative.
I found a selection of poems to be extremely compelling within this collection; however, I think that the translation made it difficult to enjoy reading this as much as I hoped and wanted to do. I found the choice of words to be somewhat repetitive and, thus, the poems themselves felt cyclical.
I also find poetry to be a really important form of literature for me to read to understand more emotional and intellectual ideas, and I found many of Cavafy’s poems to be concerned mainly with the physical and sensual themes that I, personally, don’t find compelling or that interesting. I do recognize that for others, this might be a completely irrelevant critique.
Overall, I am glad I read these poems, but I don’t know that I’d seek out other work by Cavafy.
My 2 and a 1/2 star rating is entirely based on personal preference. I would still recommend that this poet be explored, regardless of my rating. Poetry is highly personal, and just because it didn’t speak to me doesn’t mean that it won’t speak to someone else.

[Fernando · Rating 5 out of 5]

From my Instagram account @Onebookonecountry

#Reading #poetry in translation is always fraught with trouble. However, in whatever language you read #Kavafis you are bound to be mesmerized. He unites in his #verses the #erudition of #ClassicalGreece and popular culture. He straddles the aseptic and the #hedonic. And became an icon in modern #GreekLiterature despite writing only 154 #poems, which he never published in life.

A special mention to #Ithaca, mine and @marthascodro's #FavoritePoem by him. In it, Kavafis uses #Ulysses's mythical return to his hometown as a reminder to everyone: do not to let our Ithacas consume our lives.

A special tribute to one of my favorite publishers, Cosac Naify, which has gone out of business recently.

More European books here #onebookEurope
More Greek books here #onebookGreece

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Having only a vague idea of Cavafy's work before picking this up--in Atlantis Books in Ia on Santorini--I was a bit surprised to notice a theme of, erm, amorous language describing the male form, etc. A bit awkward as I was reading it in church, but this is powerful stuff. My favorite piece in this collection is probably Ithaca, which has haunted me over the last few weeks. From near the end:

"Ithaca gave you the beautiful journey;
without her you wouldn't have set upon the road.
But now she has nothing left to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca didn't deceive you.
As wise as you will have become, with so much
experience,
you will understand, by then, these Ithacas,
what they mean."

[Eric · Rating 3 out of 5]

I confess I am not a poetry reader. I respect it greatly as a literary art form; I have just never read poetry for enjoyment. So why this volume? I was referred to this volume because Cavafy was a gay man. I was told he wrote beautiful poems which reflected his orientation in a way that was tasteful and moving - not just a gross sexualized form so common in culture today. As a gay man I found those poems touching. Not all poems in this collection are erotic. Those which reflected on Greek culture, historic and current, did not connect with me much. Those of his erotic writing did, very much so. So much writing about sexuality in our time is graphic and distasteful; Cavafy's writing was beautiful and elegant.

[Jordi Torán · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ottima collezione curata magistralmente da Andrea Di Gregorio, con il chiaro obiettivo di far conoscere meglio il sommo poeta. Sono state selezionate poesie rappresentative sia della vita che dello stile dell'autore, consentendo, a differenza di altre antologie, di approfondire e scoprire la personalità di Kavafis. Ogni poesia è corredata da un commento di Di Gregorio che permette al lettore di assaporare meglio le poesie.
Le traduzioni delle poesie, realizzate anche da Andrea Di Gregorio, contemplano un vocabolario contemporaneo, facendole, a volte, sembrare troppo semplici. Ma in generale sono corretti e stimolanti.
Nonostante manchi un gran numero di poesie, il libro è un affascinante viaggio al cuore di Kavafis.

[Gediminas · Rating 3 out of 5]

Note: this review is written by a common man, not fit to fully appreciate this book, nor most poetry in general. In fact, this is just the second poetry book under my belt.

Most poems were rooted in history - be it historic figures, myths, etc. Personally, most of them failed to touch me, even if detailed notes on the historic context were provided. However the ones that did, had a feeling of greatness about them - one that is by no means accidental.

If you're not going to read this, at least check out a poem called Ithaka - that's my top pick.

[Alejandro G. Barroso · Rating 2 out of 5]

Puc veure les portes de la biblioteca tancades. L'obscuritat trencada per una llum que parpelleja a un passadís. Unes cadires la envolten, americanes i pantalons de tweed s'asseuen, mitjons a quadres caiguts per sota del turmell i la pell pàl·lida, malaltissa s'aventura a l'aire lliure sense recomanació mèdica. Un d'ells para de moure el bigoti, tanca el llibre de Kavafis i somriu complagut. Els demès aplaudeixen fent petar el dits. Poden quedar-se per la seva luxúria aquesta selecció de poemes de l'alexandrí.