Constantine P. Cavafy. Poems
Translated from the Greek, and Introduced by Manolis
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Published by: Manolis on Smashwords
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
WISE MEN SENSE THE FORTHCOMING
THE DISPLEASURE OF THE SELEUCID
FOR AMMONIS WHO DIED 29 YEARS OLD, IN 610
AIMILIANOS MONAI ALEXANDRIAN 628-655 A.D.
THE WINDOW OF THE TOBACCO SHOP
OF DEMETRIOS SOTIR (162—150 B.C.)
A BYZANTINE NOBLE, IN EXILE, WRITING VERSES
FROM THE SCHOOL OF THE FAMOUS PHILOSOPHER
THOSE WHO FOUGHT FOR THE ACHEAN LEAGUE
EPITAPH OF ANTIOCHOS, KING OF KOMMAGINI
A BIG PROCESSION OF PRIESTS AND COMMON PEOPLE
TWO YOUNG MEN TWENTY THREE TO TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD
A YOUNG MAN, ARTIST OF THE WORD— IN HIS TWENTY-FOURTH YEAR
PORTRAIT OF A TWENTY—THREE—YEAR OLD MAN PAINTED BY HIS AMATEUR FRIEND OF THE SAME AGE
IN A LARGE GREEK COLONY, 200 B.C.
KIMON, SON OF LEARCHOS, 22 YEARS OLD, STUDENT OF GREEK (IN KYRINI)
ALEXANDER IANNAIOS AND ALEXANDRA
BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS AND WHITE AS WAS SUITABLE
COME, OH KING OF THE LACEDAIMONIANS
ACCORDING TO THE RECIPES OF ANCIENT GRECO—SYRIAN MAGICIANS
Biographical Note for Constantine P. Cavafy
FOREWORD
The literary magazine Quill and Quire, issue of April 2008, states: “The moment you translate something as a Canadian, because you are interpreting it into English as spoken in Canada, and it is informed by the imagery and culture of the target language, it becomes a work of Canadian literature.” This is such a book written by one of the most celebrated Greek poets, C.P.Cavafy, translated by a Greek-Canadian writer Manolis and edited by George Amabile.
Although this translation is based almost entirely on the thirteenth edition of Kavafis— Collected Poems published by Ikaros, Athens, 1980, and although that edition is called Collected Poems (the Greek word used is «άπαντα»--‘apanda’ which means collected), we don’t call ours “Collected Poems” because there are a lot of other poems written by Cavafy between 1882—1932, some of which we found included only in the expanded edition published by Rae Dalven of 1976. Ikaros also published the “Unpublished Poems” of C.P. Cavafy in Athens in 1977.
We followed the format and sequence of poems in the “Ikaros” editionexcept for the shifting of sixteen poems written between 1896-1905 which we placed at the beginning of this translation unlike the edition by “Ikaros” where these poems were placed at the end of their volume.
Reference is made to the literary magazine of his era, New Protoporoi which devoted an article to Cavafy’s poetry; also to commentaries written by S. Tsirkas and Gr. Xenopoulos who analyzed and discussed Cavafy’s works from their point of view; reference is also made to the newspapers Vima, Nea and Kathimerini where N. Vagenas, H. Houzouri and S. Moskovou contributed articles about the poet. Last but not least reference is made to the commentary and notes by George Savidis in the thirteenth Ikaros edition the format of which we have followed in this translation.
The historical names were transliterated in no particular way; the most well known names internationally were left with their Latin transliterations as in: Constantinople instead of the Greek Konstantinoupolis; all the other lesser known names are presented sometimes in their Latin appearance and at other times in their Greek format based on what seemed visually appropriate.
INTRODUCTION
Constantine P. Cavafy, along with a few other twentieth century Greek poets such as George Seferis, Odysseus Elytis, Yiannis Ritsos, Kostis Palamas and Andreas Kalvos, established the revival of Greek poetry both in Greece and abroad. They emerged as the new era of contemporary Greek poets at a time when the use of the Greek language was swept by the conflict between the old, “καθαρεύουσα—katharevoussa” traditional form of language and the more common “δημοτική—demotiki”, plebian or demotic as it was called.
Cavafy used both the traditional and the demotic modes although mostly the latter; he spent most of his life in Alexandria under the influence of the almighty Greek Orthodox Church and the day before his death he took communion as if to declare that he was ready; as if he was prepared for his transformation, from the modern poet, Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis of Greece to the Cavafy of the World. It is said that in the last minutes of his life he took pencil and paper and drew a big circle with a single dot in the middle.
It had only been twenty years since his death when one of the most famous bookstores in London advertised that: “We carry the best ever books: from Chaucer to Cavafy.” In 1919 Cavafy was introduced to the English reading public by E.M. Forster who helped establish his reputation in the Western World.
His poems combine the precision of a master craftsman with the sensitivity of Sappho as they are concise, yet intimate when their subject iserotic love, mostly between men. Real characters as well as imaginary, historical events as well as fictional are his inspiration; the questionable future, the sensual pleasures, the wandering morality of the many, the psychology of the individual and that of the masses, homosexuality, certain atavistic beliefs and an existential nostalgia are some of his themes. Cavafy’s conscience projected his crystal clear belief in the immortal written word, which he bequeathed unto the four corners of the world.
On the 100th anniversary of his birthday and thirty years after his death, his complete works were published by “Ikaros” in 1963. This edition was prepared up to a point, we could say, by the poet himself who had kept all his poems in a concise and exact order; each poem on a page (which was pinned in exact chronological order on top of the proceeding page); his older poems were turned into booklet form which traditionally consisted of 16 pages although in this case the length is questionable. The sequence of the poems in these booklets was not chronological but thematic and depended on how he chose to emphasize their coherence. These booklets were mailed to anyone who asked for them. In the last years of his life he published two such booklets, one containing his poems written between the years 1905-1915 and the other with his poems of 1916-1918; every poem published during those fourteen years were included in these two booklets.
Cavafy was concise and accurate; so much so that he would work on each of his verses again and again making sure that it was in its final and perfect form before he would mail it to anyone; most of this of course is lost in the translation, as such an element in writing is impossible to replicate in another language.
He drew most of his inspiration for the historical poems from the first and second centuries B.C. and the Hellinistic Era of Alexandria around and after the days of Alexander the Great. His love poems were entirely devoted to adult love between men; there is not a single mention of a woman as the subject of erotic love in his poems. The image of the kore, an erotic subject of other poets, is absent from his stanzas. Reference to women in Cavafy’s work is only about older, mature and gracious figures playing out their roles in the Hellinistic era or Byzantium’s golden age.
Cavafy wrote mostly in free verse although there were times when he used rhyme to emphasize irony; the number of syllables per verse varied from ten to seventeen.
Cavafy’s inspiration derives from many different subjects; in one of the well known poems, Ithaka, he explores, like Odysseus on his return to his home island after the Trojan War, the pleasure and importance of the way to a goal rather than the goal itself, and shows that the process of achieving something is important because of all the experience it makes possible.
In the poem Waiting for the Barbarians we see the importance of the influence that people and events outside of the country may have in the lives of the inhabitants of a certain place and it can quite easily be related to today’s doctrine of “war on terror” after the attack of September, 2001 and the role that fear of the foreigner, or the enemy, plays in the decision making process of a nation. A parallel can be drawn between today’s “war on terror” and the final verses of the poem…
“And what are we
to become without the barbarians?
These people were some kind of a
solution.”
In the poem Thermopylae Cavafy explores the subject of duty, responsibility, and most importantly, the idea of paying the “debt”; he seems to believe in the philosophical principle of the Universal Balance which exists everywhere, and when that balance is disturbed by the actions of one man another person needs to reestablish it: in this case the poem refers to the treason by Ephialtes which disturbs that preexisting balance andwhich the leader of the 300 Lacedaimonians, Leonidas, tries to counter—balance by his act of self sacrifice.The crucifixion of Christ has the same philosophical base. Odusseus Elytis refers to the same subject in the Genesis of his Axion Esti where he says that the Old Wise Creator prepared the four Great Voids on earth and in the body of man:
“…the
void of Death for the Upcoming Child
the void of Killing for the
Right Judgment
the void of Sacrifice for the Equal Retribution
the
void of the Soul for the Responsibility of the Other…”
Isolation and the sense of enclosure unfolds in Cavafy’s poem “Walls” which is relevant to today as some countries tend to resort to it asa means of defense against foreign influences coming from the outside and changing the thinking of the people, but also as a reason for becoming self-sufficient and self-reliant.
There are a lot of satirical connotations and humor in some poems and one such poem stands out: Nero’s Deadline where the poet laughs at the way a person perceives their time on earth. The same subject is referred to by the well known Greek saying: “You like to make God laugh, go and tell Him your plans…”
The extent to which a politician or a system may stretch truth in order to achieve a goal and the axiom “history repeats itself” are adamantly present in Cavafy’s poetry as we see the travesty of events when presented to the public from an official position:
“…the gigantic lie of the palace—Antony triumphed in Greece.”
The lies a government may throw at people in order to deceive. Today’s “…war on terror…” is such a travesty and it resembles an umbrella harboring under it various means and purposes of deluding the populace; at other times this is a means of camouflaging the inability of the governing party to conduct themselves in a fair and balanced way.
Cavafy’s work was at times caustic and irony was used frequently to emphasize a point. Vagenas writes: “Cavafy is the only poet who uses irony as the main mechanism of poetic creativity. His precise dramatic as well as tragic irony is the element that makes his use of the language produce a deep poetic emotion, rendering the verbal sensualism unnecessary.”
Cavafy expresses views of his era looked at through the eyes of the Greek immigrant, or the Greek of the Diaspora. The survival of and adherence to Greek values is what Cavafy cares to preserve and his poetry reflects this by doing justice to his great wish that the Greek language might spread to the far ends of the Bactrian Lands. The heroic stubbornness that proudly said ‘No’ to convention and settling down, the pursuit of true life which carries on ceaselessly, dragging along mud and diamonds, mixing the old with the new, joining the yes with the no, opening new horizons at any moment, birthing new hopes and views at any second is the life Cavafy wanted to spread all over the known world.
Most reviewers and analysts of Cavafy’s work have pronounced him a homosexual although that may be taken with a grain of salt. The western commentaries clearly and as a matter of fact have concluded that he was homosexual whereas some of the Greek commentators are reluctant to openly agree with that notion; In our view the author can only be classified this or that based on documented data such as pictures, or direct associations of the commentator with the author, and in this case there are no such data available. Yet when a poet writes so many erotic poems having as his subject young men of twenty to twenty nine years old and with not a single woman ever being referred to as a subject of erotic love, it is easy and understandable to assume that the person under discussion is a homosexual; yet there is another angle one may take: the angle of the alter ego that a writer creates in his work to compliment or better yet to refine his image in his own eyes before the eyes of the reading public, as in the case of Cavafy; In some of his personal writings we read:
“I have to put an end to this myself, by the first of April otherwise I won’t be able to travel. I’ll get sick and how am I to enjoy my voyage when I’m sick?”
“March 16th: Midnight. I succumbed again. Despair, despair, despair. There is no hope. Unless I end this by the 15th of April. God help me.”
In another note:
“I am tormented. I got up and I am writing now. What am I to do and what is going to happen. What am I to do? Help. I am lost.”
In these personal notes of a despairing man who seeks help we see the distress of a person not because they react to their just concluded homosexual encounter but rather their despair in their self consummated sexual satisfaction through masturbation and the guilt associated with it…Let us not forget that Cavafy grew up in an era of the Diaspora when the Greek Orthodox Church dominated the lives of the populace in such a strict way that any movement outside the dogmatic rules of Christian doctrine was considered a serious and unforgivable sin; I personally remember as a young lad reading the famous booklet “Holy Epistle” with its frightening images of brimstone and fire coming down from the heavens to sear the sinners who would commit any kind of sexual or other sin. It was quite purposefully given to me to read in my early teen years and it took decades before I came to the realization that I didn’t need this nonsense in my life. This was the world Cavafy grew up in and when he had his first chance of being on his own he made his best effort of rebellion against such suppressing doctrine in order to liberate himself from the pangs of church inflicted fear; when one looks at his life from this point of view one can simply see the reaction of a man expressed in a unique way directly opposed to the expected and well formatted way of the church.
Atanasio Cortato, Cavafy’s personal friend and confidant, writes:
“Cavafy’s homosexuality is questionable. One needs to apply a deep and objective study of his life and perhaps conclude that Cavafy was not homosexual. None ever came along with concrete evidence for this and no scandal of any kind is attributed to him.”
This declaration is of double importance because it is the declaration of Cavafy’s personal friend who knew the poet well and who would have known of any scandal should there have been one in which the poet was involved. Yet there was no such scandal documented or told.
Another view expressed by Stratis Tsirkas and J.M. Hatzifotis was that Cavafy’s passion was not his homosexuality but rather his alcoholism and his tendency to masturbation. The poet was a very shy person by nature, and although when his mood struck him was a very stimulating and entertaining host, it was impossible for him to proceed into a homosexual relationship. Under this lens his erotic poetry is nothing but his fantasizing of the unrealized…
George Seferis referring to Cavafy as the deceptive old man of the Alexandrian Sea, Proteus, who always changes appearance, says: “For this reason we have to be careful, and exercise caution, not to be seduced by our own tendencies or by taking as given his words and dialectic inventions based on their superficial sense.”
A different aspect of his erotic poems can be found when one sees the time and place in which the poet lived as an adult and on his own. We make this last comment because it is known that Cavafy lived with his mother until her death in 1899 and after that he moved in with his brother John until 1906 when John left for Cairo. At that time Cavafy moved in with his brother Paul until he also moved away to Paris. Then the poet started living on his own. Having to work for a living in such a polyethnic city as Alexandria where the influences of three continents mingled and at times collided and always being under the watchful eye of the all powerful Greek Orthodox Church with its dogmatism and stubbornness, Cavafy, like any other man of letters, questioned a lot of what was going on around him.
One can easily theorize that all the eroticism and rebelliousness expressed by the young lovers of his poems are nothing but the reactions of a person who lived almost all his adult life with family members and who, in his new found freedom, rebelled against established values and questioned well positioned dogmatism. One can easily theorize that Cavafy fantasized about things he wished for rather than recording things he had experienced. From that point of view the eroticism of his poems can be seen as an expression of suppressed feelings he had for years, yet feelings he never got the courage to act upon.
Cavafy lived in the polyethnic city of Alexandria; he moved and breathed around the Greek Community and a moral and law abiding way of life is clearly Greek in its essence. The law that applied to Greeks in Alexandria is that of France which is not much different than the Greek law yet different than the law applied to the locals. Therefore the homosexuality and lawlessness of some of his poetry has to do with the moral, communal and law abiding way of life of the Greek Community of Alexandrian society. Cavafy had a good knowledge of that and that knowledge guided him in such a way that his bolder and more daring poems which would have created an uproar in the established code of conduct of Alexandrian Greek Society were only released in 1920 when the poet had become very well known and had carved a space in the creative society of his era. He was at that time established as a very successful poet and none dared dispute this or accuse him of anything.
Cavafy met and befriended a few writers of his era. In 1901 to 1903 he traveled to Greece and met the Greek prose writers Polemis, Xenopoulos and Porfyras. In November of 1903 the magazine Panathenea published a historical article about Cavafy written by Xenopoulos with the title A Poet. The same year Cavafy wrote his most important piece of prose, a “philosophical retrospection” of his poetry which is known as Poietiki.
Back in Alexandria, he met with the writers Ion Dragoumis and E.M. Forster. Later in 1927 he met the famous Maria Kotopouli of the Greek Theater and Nikos kazantzakis, writer of “Alexis Zorbas” and many other books.
Based on his own records his poems are separated into three categories: the historical, the philosophical and the erotic. Although in the early days of his career his poetry faced much resistance and reservation on the part of the literary world, slowly he came to be understood as a unique, idiomorphic as well as mature and meaningful poet who wouldn’t care much about the external appearance of his stanzas but only about their inner contemplation, philosophical wisdom and meditative message.
After his death, Cavafy’s work became the subject of study by numerous poets and analysts throughout the world. His poems were published in collections and he is the most translated contemporary Greek poet. His poems have been translated into French, English, German, Italian, Spanish, Dutch, Arabic, Japanese, Armenian, Hindi, Slavic, and many other languages.
On Lepseia Street in Alexandria, his apartment has been turned into a museum with holographs by the poet, with publications, translations, and other pieces of art inspired by his work; exhibited there is a very rich philosophical, philological and photographic mix of material which is available to every visitor.
When we leave the characterizations and etiquettes aside, etiquettes or bar codes as I call them which serve no other purpose than to turn this universal poet into merchandise in the Drug Store aisle; when we go beyond the dogmatic assertions such as W.H. Auden’s “Cavafy was a homosexual”; when we go beyond comments like: “If Cavafy was not homosexual he wouldn’t be Cavafy” a wordplay that means nothing in essence; when we go beyond statements claiming that: “Cavafy’s homosexuality was instrumental for his acceptance and fame amongst the British reading circles”, suggesting that most of the British readers of poetry are homosexuals and as such have accepted Cavafy into their fold, (statements referred to in the Tziovas’ article), if we go beyond the merely superficial and look at the person and his poetry we find the most sweet, lonely, desperate man who loved life, who loved people, who was more Hellene than the Hellenes living in Greece, who was a beacon in the midst of human mediocrity and banality and who as a beacon, shows the way to those who care to read and enjoy his verses. Cavafy stands as the most influential contemporary Greek poet who enriched the Pantheon of Twentieth Century Greek Literature with his eloquent verses, his witty stanzas, his humoristic lines, and his historical poems that transpose our view of life and put it into a different perspective, reaffirming that today’s Greek writers are not much behind their ancient masters.
1896—1918
VOICES
Ideal
and beloved voices
of the dead or those who
for us are lost
like the dead.
At
times they talk in our dreams;
at times our minds hear them when
in thought.
And
with their sound, for a moment, echoes
return from the first
poetry of our lives—
like
distant music, at night, that slowly fades away.
DESIRES
Like
beautiful bodies of the dead that haven’t grown old
that were
locked, in tears, in the gleaming mausoleum,
with roses at their
heads and jasmines by their legs—
this
is the way desires that have passed look
when not fulfilled;
without any of them having enjoyed
a single night of lust, or one
shining morning.
CANDLES
The
days of the future stand in front of us
like a line of lit
candles—
golden,
warm, and lively little candles.
The
days of the past remain behind,
a sorrowful line of burned out
candles;
the closest ones are still smoking,
cold candles,
melted, and drooping.
I don’t
want to look at them; their shape saddens me,
and it saddens me to
remember their previous light.
I look ahead at my lit candles.
I don’t
want to look back and see in horror
how fast the dark line
lengthens,
how quickly the burned out candles multiply.
AN OLD MAN
In the
back of the noisy cafe
bent over a table, an old man sits;
with
a newspaper in front of him, alone.
And in
the miserable scorn of old age
he thinks of how little he enjoyed
the years
when he had strength, and eloquence, and beauty.
He
knows that he has grown old; he feels it, he sees it.
And yet the
time when he was young seems
like yesterday. How short, how short
a time.
And
he contemplates how Discretion deceived him;
and how he always
trusted it—how
foolish—
the liar who said, “Tomorrow. You have plenty of
time.”
He
remembers urges he restrained; and all the joy
he sacrificed. Now
for every lost chance
he scolds his foolish Discretion.
…But
from all this thinking and remembering
the old man gets dizzy. And
falls asleep
bent over the table in the café.
PRAYER
The
sea took a sailor to its depth.—
His
mother, unknowing, goes and lights
a
tall candle before the Virgin Mary
for his speedy return and for
fair weather—
and she
always tunes her ear to the wind.
But while she prays and
beseeches
the
icon listens, solemn and sad,
knowing the son she waits for won’t
come back.
THE SOULS OF OLD MEN
The
souls of old men
sit in their withered bodies.
How sad those
souls are
and how fed up with the miserable life they lead.
How
they shiver at the thought of losing it,
and how they love it,
those confused and conflicting
souls, that sit—tragicomically—
in
their devastated skins.
THE FIRST STEP
One day
the young poet Evmenis
complained to Theokritos;
“I have been
writing for two years
and I have only composed one idyll.
It is
my only completed work.
Alas, I see that the ladder of Poetry
is
high, very high; unfortunately
I will never be able to rise
from
where I stand at the bottom rung.”
Theokritos said, “These
words
are inappropriate and blasphemous.
And even though you
are on the first step
you must be proud and happy.
That you
have reached this far is not little;
what you have accomplished,
is a great glory.
For even this first step
is a step beyond the
ordinary.
To have arrived where you stand now
you must be in
your own right
a citizen of the city of ideas.
And it is hard
and rare
to be naturalized in that city.
In her agora you find
Lawmakers
that no arriviste can dupe.
That you have reached
this place is not small thing.
You have accomplished a glory.”
INTERRUPTION
We
interrupt the labor of the gods,
we, the rushed and inexperienced
beings of the moment.
In the palaces of Eleusis and Phthia
Demeter
and Thetis begin good works
amid great fires and thick smoke.
But
Metaneira always charges from the quarters
of the king,
terrified, her hair undone,
and the fearful Peleus always
interferes.
THERMOPYLAE
Honor
to those who in their lives
are committed to guard
Thermopylae.
Never swerving from duty;
just and exact in all
their actions,
but tolerant too, and compassionate;
gallant
when rich, and when
they are poor, again a little gallant,
again
assisting as much as they can;
Always speaking the truth,
but
without hatred for those who lie.
And
more honor is due to them
when they foresee (and many do
foresee)
that Ephialtis will appear in the end
and the Medes
will break through at last.
CHE FECE….IL GRAN RIFIUTO
To some
people the day comes
when they have to say the great Yes or the
great No.
It is almost instantly clear
who has the Yes ready
inside him; and by saying it
he
lives up to his honor and his conviction.
The one who refuses has
no regret. If he was asked again,
he would say the same No. And
yet that same
No—the
right No—burdens him for the rest of his life.
THE WINDOWS
In
these dark rooms where I spend
leaden days, I go up and down
looking for the windows.—To
open
one would be a great consolation.—
But they are nowhere
to be found, or I can not
find them. And perhaps it is better that
I don’t.
Perhaps their light will be a new tyranny.
Who knows
what it will reveal?
WALLS
Without
much thought, without pity, without shame
They’ve built these
high, thick walls around me.
And now
I sit here in despair.
I think of nothing else: this fate consumes
my mind;
because
I had so many things to do outside.
Ah, why didn’t I notice
when they built the walls?
But I
never heard the builders, or any sound at all.
Imperceptibly, they
shut me off from the world.
WAITING FOR THE BARBARIANS
--What are we waiting for, gathered in the agora?
The barbarians are to arrive today.
--Why
such inactivity in the Senate?
Why do the senators sit and pass no
laws?
Because
the barbarians will arrive today.
What laws should the senators
pass?
When the barbarians come they will pass laws.
--Why
did our emperor wake so early,
and sit by the city’s main
gate
on the throne, officially, wearing his crown?
Because
the barbarians will arrive today.
And the emperor is waiting to
receive
their leader. In fact, he’s prepared
a declaration
for him. In it he wrote
a lot of titles and honorable names.
--Why
have our praetors and two councils come out
today in their red,
embroidered togas?
Why do they wear bracelets with so many
amethysts,
and rings with richly glittering emeralds;
why are
they carrying expensive canes
superbly decorated in silver and
gold?
Because
the barbarians will arrive today;
and such things dazzle the
barbarians.
--Why
don’t the famous orators come as usual
to make their speeches
and have their say?
Because
the barbarians will arrive today;
and they are bored by eloquent
oratory.
--Why
have this sudden anxiety and confusion?
(The faces, how solemn
they have become).
Why do the streets and the plazas empty so
quickly,
Why is everyone returning home deep in thought?
Because
night is here and the barbarians have not arrived.
A few
travelers, just in from the borders,
say the barbarians no longer
exist.
And
what will become of us without them?
Those people were a kind of
solution.
BETRAYAL
Though
we can praise Homer a lot, there is one thing
we do not
admire…Nor do we approve of Aeschylus when he writes that
Thetis
says Apollo sang at her wedding and foretold
the good fortune of
her offspring and his long
life free of illness. Then said her
fate was
blessed by the gods, and sang paeans to her joy.
She
believed that Apollo’s divine, unerring mouth,
full of the art
of prophesy could never be wrong.
“Yet, he, himself… who sang
the hymn…
he killed my son.”
Plato, Republic B’
When
Thetis got married to Peleus
Apollo stood up at the splendid
wedding table,
and wished the best to the newlyweds
for the son
that would be born from their union.
He said, “Sickness will
never touch him
and he will enjoy a long life…”—
when he said this
Thetis was overjoyed, because the words
of
Apollo who knew all about prophesies
sounded like a guarantee for
her child’s life.
As Achilles grew up, and his beauty
was the
pride of all Thessaly
and Thetis remembered the words of the
god.
But one day old men came with the news
that Achilles had
been killed at Troy.
Thetis tore off her purple garments,
took
off her bracelets and rings
and threw them to the ground.
And
in her lamentation she remembered the past;
and she asked what the
wise Apollo was doing,
the god-prophet who sang so eloquently
at
banquets, where was he
when her son was killed in the prime of his
youth?
And the old men answered that Apollo
himself went down
to Troy,
and there with the Trojans he killed her son.
THE FUNERAL OF SARPEDON
Zeus is
deep in sorrow. Patroklos
killed Sarpedon; and now the son of
Menoetios
and the Acheans charge in
to seize and humiliate the
body.
But
Zeus doesn’t agree with all this.
His beloved boy—whom
he left
to perish; that was the Law—
he will at least honor
in death.
And, look, he sends Apollo down to the plain
well
briefed on what to do with the body.
With
reverence and sorrow Apollo lifts
the hero’s body and carries it
to the river.
He washes away the dust and the blood;
he closes
the terrible wounds, not letting
any trace of them show; he pours
ambrosial perfumes; and dresses him
in gleaming Olympian
garments.
He blanches the skin white; and with a pearl
comb
combs the jet black hair.
He straightens and arranges the
beautiful limbs.
Now
he looks like a king, a charioteer—
twenty-five,
or twenty-six years old—
at leisure after winning
the prize
in a very famous race
with his golden chariot and fleet steeds.
Having
finished his task
Apollo sends for the two brothers
Sleep and
Death, and orders them
to take the body to Lykia, the rich land.
And
toward that rich land, Lykia,
these two brothers Sleep and
Death
walk, and when they arrive
at the door of the royal
house,
they deliver the glorious body,
then return to their
other labors and cares.
And
when they received the body there, in the house,
with processions,
and mourning, and honors,
and with abundant libations from sacred
chalices,
and all things due, the sorrowful burial began.
And
after that, experienced workers from the city
and famous carvers
of stone came
to build the tomb and the stele.
THE HORSES OF ACHILLES
When
they saw Patroklos dead,
who was so brave, and strong, and
young,
the horses of Achilles began to cry;
their immortal
nature was outraged
at the sight of this work of death.
They
reared up, and tossed their long manes,
they stamped the ground
with their hooves, and mourned
Patroklos, whom they felt was
soulless—devastated—
lifeless
flesh now—his spirit gone—
defenseless—without
breath—
returned from life to the great Nothing.