I, Iasis, lie here—the young man famous for his good looks in this great city. Men of learning admired me, so did simple, superficial people. I took equal pleasure in both. But from being considered so often a Narcissus and Hermes, excess wore me out, killed me. Traveler, if you’re an Alexandrian, you won’t blame me. You know the pace of our life—its fever, its unsurpassable sensuality.
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.
The Canon