On the Outskirts of Antioch

We in Antioch were astonished when we heard what Julian was up to now. Apollo had made things clear to him at Daphni: he didn’t want to give an oracle (as though we cared!), he didn’t intend to speak prophetically, unless his temple at Daphni was purified first. The nearby dead, he declared, got on his nerves. There are many tombs at Daphni. One of those buried there was the triumphant and holy martyr Vavylas, wonder and glory of our church. It was him the false god hinted at, him he feared. As long as he felt him near he didn’t dare pronounce his oracle: not a murmur. (The false gods are terrified of our martyrs.) Unholy Julian got worked up, lost his temper and shouted: “Raise him, carry him out, take him away immediately, this Vavylas. You there, do you hear? He gets on Apollo’s nerves. Grab him, raise him at once, dig him out, take him away, throw him out, take him wherever you want. This isn’t a joke. Apollo said the temple has to be purified.” We took it, the holy relic, and carried it elsewhere. We took it, we carried it away in love and in honor. And hasn’t the temple done brilliantly since! In no time at all a colossal fire broke out, a terrible fire, and both the temple and Apollo burned to nothing. Ashes the idol: dirt to be swept away. Julian exploded, and he spread it around— what else could he do?—that we, the Christians, had set the fire. Let him say so. It hasn’t been proved. Let him say so. The essential thing is—he exploded.

Reprinted from C.P. CAVAFY: Collected Poems Revised Edition, translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, edited by George Savidis. Translation copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Princeton University Press. For reuse of these translations, please contact Princeton University Press.

Translations in other languages

Atónitos quedamos en Antioquía cuando supimos las nuevas hazañas de Juliano. ¡Apolo le había hablado en Dafne al personaje! No quería emitir un oráculo (¡qué fastidio!), no tenía intención de hablar mánticamente, si antes no se purificaba su santuario en Dafne. Le molestaban, declaró, los muertos de al lado. En Dafne había muchas tumbas. Uno de los muertos allí enterrados era el prodigioso —gloria de nuestra Iglesia—, el santo, triunfante mártir Bábilas. A él se refería, a él temía el falso dios. Mientras lo sintiera cerca, no osaba emitir sus oráculos; ni palabra. (Tiemblan de miedo los falsos dioses por nuestros mártires). Fuera de sí el impío Juliano perdió los nervios y gritaba: «Sacadlo, desenterradlo, quitad a ese Bábilas de inmediato. ¿Oís? Apolo está irritado. Levantadlo, quitadlo enseguida. Desenterradlo, echadlo. ¿Creéis que es broma? Apolo ha mandado purificar este santuario». Lo recogimos, llevamos su santo cuerpo a otra parte. Lo recogimos, lo llevamos con amor y respeto. Y en realidad prosperó el santuario. No pasó mucho tiempo, cuando estalló un incendio enorme; un pavoroso incendio; y ardieron el santuario y Apolo. El ídolo acabó en ceniza; para barrerla con las basuras. Reventó de cólera Juliano e hizo propalar —qué otra cosa iba a hacer— que el fuego lo habíamos prendido nosotros, los cristianos. Que diga lo que quiera. No pudo demostrarse. Que diga lo que quiera. Lo esencial es que reventó.

Cavafis, C. (2023). Ciento cincuenta y cuatro poemas (P. Bádenas de la Peña, traducción e introducción). UMA Editorial.

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