Constantine P. Cavafy

(29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933 / Alexandria)

Constantine P. Cavafy Poems

161. In Despair 1/3/2003
162. Envoys From Alexandria 1/3/2003
163. Days Of 1908 1/3/2003
164. Half An Hour 1/3/2003
165. Sensual Pleasures 1/3/2003
166. Far Off 1/3/2003
167. Anna Comnena 1/3/2003
168. Remember, Body... 1/3/2003
169. Morning Sea 1/3/2003
170. Thermopylae 1/3/2003
171. Walls 1/3/2003
172. Days Of 1903 1/3/2003
173. Caesarion 1/3/2003
174. Darius 1/3/2003
175. The God Abandons Anthony 1/3/2003
176. Dangerous Things 1/3/2003
177. But Wise Men Perceive Approaching Things 1/3/2003
178. Waiting For The Barbarians 1/3/2003
179. Che Fece 1/3/2003
180. The City 1/3/2003
181. Footsteps 1/3/2003
182. Alexandrian Kings 1/3/2003
183. Body Remember 1/3/2003
184. Desires 1/3/2003
185. Candles 1/3/2003
186. Addition 1/3/2003
187. As Much As You Can 1/3/2003
188. An Old Man 1/3/2003
189. Ithaca 1/3/2003

Comments about Constantine P. Cavafy

  • Wang Dawson (8/25/2017 7:22:00 AM)

    I got to know C. P. Cavafy because of a series of pictures called in the dull village by David Hockney, which was inspired by Cavafy's poems. I read his As Much As You Can, and felt quite encouraged by its persuasive and warm lines. Maybe we don't have the intelligence or capacity to accomplish significant feat, we still have the reason to strive for our lives. The key point is what is the reason if life doesn't pay us. For me, it lies in itself with such belief that one's attitude to the misery and desolation of life indicates what we are as a human being.

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Best Poem of Constantine P. Cavafy


When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
such as these you will never find
as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
emotion touch your spirit and your body.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - you will not meet them
unless you carry them in your soul,
unless your soul raise them up before you.

Ask that your way be long.
At many a Summer dawn to enter
with what gratitude, what joy -
ports seen ...

Read the full of Ithaca

Anna Comnena

In the prologue to her Alexiad,
Anna Comnena laments her widowhood.

Her soul is dizzy. "And with rivers
of tears," she tells us "I wet
my eyes... Alas for the waves" in her life,
"alas for the revolts." Pain burns her
"to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul."

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