Yesterday, around midnight, they brought us our friend Remon,
who’d been wounded in a taverna fight.
Through the windows we left wide open,
the moon cast light over his beautiful body as he lay on the bed.
We’re a mixture here: Syrians, migrated Greeks, Armenians, Medes.
Remon too is one of this kind. But last night,
when the moon shone on his sensual face,
our thoughts went back to Plato’s Charmidis.
Reprinted from C. P. CAVAFY: Collected Poems Revised Edition, translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, edited by George Savvidis. Translation copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Princeton University Press. For reuse of these translations, please contact Princeton University Press.
The Canon