Constantine P. Cavafy (1863 - 1933)

Constantine P. Cavafy, also known as Konstantin or Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis, or Kavaphes (April 29, 1863 - April 29, 1933) was a Greek poet who is among the 20th century's most important literary figures, though he is relatively little known in the English speaking world; he also worked as a journalist and civil servant.

Cavafy was born in Alexandria, Egypt. His father was a wealthy importer-exporter, however, when his father died in 1870, Cavafy and his family had to move to Liverpool, UK, though he moved back to Alexandria in 1882.

The outbreak of riots there in 1885 meant the family had to move again, this time to Constantinople. In 1885 Cavafy moved back to Alexandria, where he lived for the rest of his life. He originally worked as a journalist, but then worked for the Egyptian Ministry of Public Works for thirty years. From 1891-1904 he published his poetry in broadsheet form for his close friends, receiving little acclaim during his lifetime. He died in 1933.

Since his death, Cavafy's reputation has grown, and he is now considered to be one of the finest modern Greek poets. One of Cavafy's poems has been quoted in the recent novel Music, In a Foreign Language by Andrew Crumey.

Cavafy was instrumental to the revival and recognition of Greek poetry both at home and abroad. His poems were typically concise but intimate portraits of real or literary individuals and societies that played a role in Greek culture. Uncertainty about the future, sensual pleasures, the moral character and psychology of individuals, homosexuality and nostalgia are some of the defining themes. A recluse, he was virtually unknown until late in his life. Besides his subjects, unconventional for the time, his poems also exhibit a skilled and versatile craftsmanship, which is almost completely lost in translation. His poetry is now taught at schools in Greece.

The poems are by default sorted according to volume, but you can also choose to sort them alphabetically or by page views.

First Line	Comments
"Alexander son of Philip, and the Greeks except the Lacedaemonians--"
"What distillate can be discovered from herbs
Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
A young man, twenty eight years old, on a vessel from Tenos,
Amid fear and suspicions,
Apollonius was talking about
As you set out for Ithaka	1 Comment
At the back of the noisy café	1 Comment
Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
Even if you cannot shape your life as you want it,
Every so often he vows to start a better life.
For some people the day comes
From all I've done and all I've said
Half past twelve. Time has gone by quickly	1 Comment
He came to read. Two or three books
He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now
He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen.
He wrapped them carefully, neatly
He's an old man. Used up and bent,
Honor to those who in the life they lead	1 Comment
I did not restrain myself. I let go entirely and went.
I do not question whether I am happy or unhappy.
I have almost been reduced to a homeless pauper.
I love the church: its labara,
I never found them again -- the things so quickly lost....
I never had you, nor will I ever have you
Ideal and beloved voices
In the golden bull that Alexios Comnenos issued
In the prologue to her Alexiad,	2 Comments
In these darkened rooms, where I spend
It goes on being Alexandria still. Just walk a bit
Just because we've torn their statues down,
Kimos, son of Menedoros, a young Greek-Italian,
Let me stop here. Let me, too, look at nature awhile.
Let them not seek to discover who I was
Like beautiful bodies of the dead who had not grown old
My dear old father,
My work, I'm very careful about it, and I love it.
Nero was not worried when he heard
On an ebony bed decorated
One dreary September day
One monotonous day is followed
Our efforts are those of the unfortunate;
Partly to verify an era,
Return often and take me,
Said Myrtias (a Syrian student
So much I gazed on beauty,
The Alexandrians were gathered
The days of our future stand in front of us	2 Comments
The poet Phernazis is composing
The Poseidonians forgot the Greek language
The sea took a sailor to its depths.--
The surroundings of home, centers, neighorhood
The years of my youth, my sensual life --
The young poet Evmenis
They had not seen, for ages, such beautiful gifts in Delphi
Valiant are you who fought and fell gloriously;
We interrupt the work of the gods,
What a misfortune, although you are made
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?	5 Comments
When one of them passed through the market place
When suddenly, at midnight, you hear	1 Comment
With words, with countenance, and with manners
Without consideration, without pity, without shame
You said: "I'll go to another country, go to another shore,