Constantine P. Cavafy

(29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933 / Alexandria)


Poem by Constantine P. Cavafy

Ideal and beloved voices
of those who are dead, or of those
who are lost to us like the dead.

Sometimes they speak to us in our dreams;
sometimes in thought the mind hears them.

And with their sound for a moment return
other sounds from the first poetry of our life --
like distant music that dies off in the night.

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Read poems about / on: poetry, sometimes, music, lost, night, life, dream

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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