Candles by Constantine P. Cavafy
I revisited my poetry bookmarks and was happy to find another poem by Cavafy.
Candles
By Constantine P. Cavafy
The days of our future stand in front of us
like a row of little lit candles—
golden, warm, and lively little candles.
The days past remain behind us,
a mournful line of extinguished candles;
the ones nearest are still smoking,
cold candles, melted, and bent.
I do not want to look at them; their form saddens me,
and it saddens me to recall their first light.
I look ahead at my lit candles.
I do not want to turn back, lest I see and shudder
at how fast the dark line lengthens,
at how fast the extinguished candles multiply.
I have a candle lit on my desk right now, pink lemonade scented. It’s my last candle though so I have to go get some more. Luckily they don’t make me feel like the author.
every translation of this poem (see many on the
web) have a very different sense to it. In some
the beauty and meaning are completely lost…