Constantine P. Cavafy (1863 - 1933)

Addition

I do not question whether I am happy or not.
But one thing I always keep gladly in mind;
that in the great addition- their addition that I abhor-
that has so many numbers, I am not one
of the many units there. I was not counted
in the total sum. And this joy suffices me.


Melancholy of Jason, son of Cleander; poet in Commagene; A.D. 595

The growing old of my body and my face
is a wound from a hideous knife.
I no longer have any endurance.
I take refuge in you, Art of Poetry,
who know a little something about drugs,
and attempts to numb suffering, in Imagination and Word.

It is a wound from a hideous knife.-
Fetch your drugs, Art of Poetry,
that make one unaware- for a while- of the wound.-


translated from the Greek by Rae Dalven