C. P. Cavafy Books

I am a big fan of Edmund Keeley's translations of Demotic Greek and Katherevousa. Having an armchair scholar's knowledge of the language I can appreciate the labor that has gone in to the refinement of the translations in the decades since the first edition. This volume reads very well in English, and I have given many of these as gifts over the years to poetry fans who do not know a word of Greek, always resulting in a comment about how such a poet could be so little known. Cavafy probably would have preferred it that way!

There is nothing that can adequately describe the first time you read Cavafy. It is like a breath of fresh air or a cold shower on a hot day... completely envigorating and different to anything you've ever read before.

I've shared his poetry with friends and they are all blown away.

Cavafy's erotic poems show a sensitivity and directness that is quite unique.

His personal reflective pieces are extremely insightful. I would say that you will get a better understanding of Existential philosophy through this small book of poems than any tomes from the likes of Satre, Camus, Beckett.

His historical poems are best appreciated if you know Byzantine history and the notes in the book are a fantastic to set the context.

This book deserves to be in any personal or public library

Cavafy is a poet with a view that is both ancient and modern. It's a poet that has a language that is both exuberant and emotional without being too excessive.

I own a copy of the original collection of Cavafy's poems (in Greek) and I find that this translation has measured up to the task of translating the forceful and sensual poetry as closely as possible. And for anyone who cannot read Greek, this book will bring you as close as possible to the intense emotional response of reading the original. A must have for any poetry lover.

As with any poems translated from a language I have never learned, I am left wondering just how close Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard have come to the original style and substance of C.P. Cavafy, the great Alexandrian Greek poet of the early 20th century. (Keeley and Sherrard are scrupulous in their end notes, noting untranslatable words and the original rhyme schemes of poems translated into free verse.) Even in translation, these poems are exquisite, haunting both my dreams and my waking thoughts. Cavafy essentially had only a few subjects, but they were great ones--the lost glory of antiquity, the inevitable decline of the mighty, the death of love and beauty, the folly of human striving, the crucial importance of memory and history. In language of deceptive simplicity, he limned the ephemeral nature of beautiful things and the empty spaces their loss leaves in the soul. (Cavafy, openly gay at a time when homosexuality was truly the love that dare not speak its name, wrote only of lost, passing or unrequited love.) Most of these poems are very short, but they insinuate themselves inextricably into memory, such as "The Mirror in the Front Hall," depicting a handsome young man who stops to straighten his tie: "the old mirror was all joy now,/proud to have embraced/total beauty for a few moments." My own favorite in the book is one of the longer poems, "Orophernis," about a wastrel king of the 2nd Century B.C. who came to grief trying to be a real king for once. The final five lines of this poems are Cavafy in a nutshell; The figure on this four drachma coin, a trace of whose young charm can still be seen, a ray of his poetic beauty-- this sensuous commemoration of an Ionian boy, this is Orophernis, son of Ariarathis.

Constantine P. Cavafy is one of the most intelligent and elloquent poets of this century, but remains barely known in American. Why is this? Probably because Cavafy is a man and his poems of lust and longing are addressed at other young men. I would never have discovered this amazing man if it were not for an essay about him published in Gore Vidal's "The Last Empire." Cavafy spent his life as a Greek citizen living in Alexandria egypt, and writing about the young men he found there. But beautiful males are far from his only subject. Some of his best poems are written with a technique where he becomes someone else, often a someone historical that has been dead hundreds of years. He writes as if he really were that person, describing what they are feeling, as well as what they see and hear. He can summon with words all the glory and magic of empires long extict, often to a degree of erie detail. These poems made me yearn to experience what he was describing, to be able to see what he can see in his mind. He wrote in Greek, and this book has been translated by Theoharis C. Theoharis. As I don't read Greek, I have no way of knowing how close he came to the original, but I know that what he did translate blew me away. I was transported from my life to the baths and cafes of Alexandria, the palaces of the Ceasars, from Greece in 1900 to the Greece of legend. Cavafy was able to take me places I'd never knew existed. Maybe the best compliment I can give this work is that it didn't just make me think, it made me imagine and dream. Anyone who loves the Greek world should own this book. Five stars just aren't enough.

The second line from Constantine Cavafy's "Ithaka," as translated by Aliki Barnstone, perfectly expresses the feeling one has when reading her fine new translation of Cavafy's collected poems; one wants the journey to last, to be slow, thoughtful, recursive, if possible, neverending. In Cavafy's poetic imagination, the history of thousands of years emerges in perfectly realized vignettes, with ironies teased out of time into timeless applicability. Reading Cavafy is the pleasure of a lifetime.

I first encountered Cavafy among Robert Lowell's Imitations, published in 1961, and quickly sought out Keeley and Sherrard's Six Poets of Modern Greece--coincidentally, published the same year--and subsequently, when it became available, their joint translation of Cavafy's selected poems) to read more of Cavafy. Later, I found Rae Dalven's translation, as well. As Aliki Barnstone generously affirms in her acknowledgments, all these poets have done fine work in making available to the English-only reader as much of Cavafy's poetry as can be carried over into English. None has done this better than Ms. Barnstone.

The clarity and grace of Aliki Barnstone's translations, and her sensitivity to degrees of emphasis and (I choose to believe) subtleties of tone seem to me to contribute to the great success of these translations. Her versions of the more familiar poems ("When the Watchman Saw the Light," "Waiting for the Barbarians," "The Gods Abandon Antony" and others) are distinctive and yet comforting in their reassurance that we have experienced well before, may experience more deeply now. Ms. Barnstone, a fine poet in her own right, brings poetic authority (and a family of supportive poets, as well)to this work, and all readers must be grateful.

This volume, arranged chronologically, offers very useful historical and contextual notes for many of the poems, as well as a thoughtful but not overbearing introduction. I would recommend this volume to anyone who cares for modern poetry, but especially for the indispensable poems of Cavafy.

The translation is authentic and scholarly, maintaining the ironic and laconic aspects of the original Greek. For those with any knowledge of modern or ancient Greek, having the original Greek text on the facing page allows for the reader to enjoy Cavafy's brilliant use of the Greek language. For non-Greek readers, there is another volume by Edmund Keeley of Princeton University which is also very thoughtfully and respectfully translated. Both are a pleasure to read in English. I highly recommend this Oxfor World's Classic edition.

Cavafy writes what is in his heart. This complete collection is excellent and worth owning.

I have only recently come to read the other translations of Cavafy's work and I still like this one best. Dalven's translation flows, the words - both in choice and placement - just seem more evocative and well-suited to the poems. Other translations seem... awkward somehow, with extra words at the end of lines that spoil the tone, or with terms that don't carry the same weight or charm.

I do recognize the frustration that Greek readers must feel at the lack of rhyme or rhythm. (I certainly feel that way when I see my beloved Cyrano butchered whenever it's translated from its gorgeous, flowing, rhyming French.) But from the perspective of one who could never, unfortunately, appreciate the original as it was meant to be appreciated, Dalven gives me a Cavafy who makes me dream, who makes me sad, and who seamlessly sparks emotion. These are poems that I can read to others in English, and which seem almost like they were written as unrhyming poems IN English. Doubtlessly some of the brilliance involved in their creation is lost on me, and it could not be otherwise considering the language barrier. But honestly, having seen some of the other translations out there, I am not sure I would have even become a Cavafy fan if not for Rae Dalven.

This review is not about the work of Cavafy itself, which I love, but a comment on the translation. Many critics have complained that a great deal is lost in a translation of Cavafy, particularly some of the linguistic and stylistic craftsmanship, and that is true of any translation of a poet. However, I believe the tone or the mood of poems, so important in a poet like Cavafy, are underemphasized, and if a translation is capable of conveying them with profundity, it is commendable; and in this respect the Rae Dalven translation is far superior to the Keeley/Sherrard and the Theoharis translations I have read, and the only one worth returning to - it remains evocative where the others seem to miss the pitch, sounding flat or overdone.

candles ithaca speaks and compering for life it is amazing.

Among the poets of the twentieth century, there is maybe one who can confidently say, "I am better than Cavafy." Yet, on a top five list of the twentieth century's greatest poets, Cavafy is far less likely to appear than, say, Dylan Thomas, Allen Ginsberg, Elizabeth Bishop, Philip Larkin, or W. H. Auden, yet Cavafy's work can stand against any of these.

Poets tend to squabble with tired questions, faith vs. reason, contemplation vs. experience, knowledge vs. serenity, life vs. language, etc. Cavafy, the Alexandrian Greek, does not squabble. Whether Cavafy's poems are about politics, art, or love (and those on the latter are the finest), it is as if his principal questions are answered before he writes the poem. Cavafy would never write a poem depicting the conflict between seamy, audacious amours and upright society. Instead, he goes ahead and writes about seamy, audacious amours, and at the end reminds us that upright society doesn't understand, that it makes "stupid comparisons."

And all of this Cavafy does with a fleeting tone (a la John Keats) that appears to be chiseled into marble (a la Ovid), at once the slightest and weightiest thing you've ever read.

Positively a must read and must own for any self-respecting poetry enthusiast.

Cavafy is a VERY sensual poet. Unfortunately for those of us who do not read Greek, we have to depend on a translator to give us his or her version of the original. Since I don't know Greek, I compared three different translations of these poems. This particular translation was good, but didn't capture the sensuousness I felt from the Keeley/Sherrard translation. That translation used more action words that gave the poetry a more palpable mood. Unfortunately I don't know what the literal translation is, so I can't say which is more true to Cavafy's intent. As in all art, this is a matter of personal preference. One must read for him or herself.