He sees the fields that still belong to him:
the wheat, the animals, the trees laden with fruit;
and beyond them his ancestral home
full of clothes, costly furniture, silverware.
They’ll take it all away from him—O God—they’ll take it all
away from him now.
Would Kantakuzinos show pity for him
if he went and fell at his feet? They say he’s merciful,
very merciful. But those around him? And the army?—
Or should he fall down and plead before Lady Irini?
Fool that he was to get mixed up in Anna’s party!
If only Lord Andronikos had never married her!
Has she ever done anything good, shown any humanity?
Even the Franks don’t respect her any longer.
Her plans were ridiculous, all her plotting farcical.
While they were threatening everyone from Constantinople,
Kantakuzinos demolished them, Lord John demolished them.
And to think he’d planned to join Lord John’s party!
And he would have done it, and would have been happy now,
a great nobleman still, his position secure,
if the bishop hadn’t dissuaded him at the last moment
with his imposing hieratic presence,
his information bogus from beginning to end,
his promises, and all his drivel.
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