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XXI. CAVAFY'S POEMS REWRITTEN. Nos. 8 - 14
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'.....ephebophilic Hellenic Egyptian who writes in a melange of ancient, Koine and Demotic Greek' - so Cavafy and his work are splendidly described by James D. Faubion whose excellent essay on Cavafy 'Toward the Principles of a Transcultural Sociology of Minor Literature', available on the Net, is well worth studying. (See http://www.ruf.rice.edu/~anth/people/faculty/docs/faubion/paper2-faubion.pdf)
My own edition of Cavafy must necessarily bypass the complexities of his Greek, ancient, Koine and Demotic! I look at the poem, I seek to discover what it is that the poet is attempting to express, and it is this that I use to form my own English poem. I also add more 'colour' than many Cavafians would like, since I understand the originals to be rather 'dead-pan.'
I must emphasise that Cavafy, in my rewriting, is an English poet and not a Greek one. He may well have found this amusing since he had observed the English at close quarters. He may also have thought it an irrelevance, a movement beyond his own Alexandrian vision.
Obviously without Cavafy my rewritings would not exist. All I seek to do is to make him more approachable to English speakers at the beginning of the twenty-first century.
As an example I would point out that of the two stanzas of my rewriting of Poem 10, 'Interrupting', the first is solely my own and the second is my reinterpretation of Cavafy's original poem. I put in the first stanza (hopefully euphonic and becomingly Cavafian!) as explanation of the second. The complexities of Greek mythology are not everyone's cup of tea!
- Charles Bryant, 15 February 2005.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
8. SAYING NO (CHE FECE....IL GRAN RIFIUTO)
to some of us there comes a crucial day
when we simply have to say a Yes or No.
whoever we are it's at once apparent
whether we're a Yes-man or a No-man.
the Yes-man goes from strength to strength.
but the No-man never changes his mind:
if asked again he would still stubbornly say No,
and although his No was correct, oh so correct,
the decision dogs at his heels for the rest of his life.
9. SPIRITS OF OLD MEN
inside old threadbare bodies
tattered like ancient carpets
dwell the timeless spirits of aged men
their joy and magic forgotten.
gloomed in perpetual ennui
bored with life but terrified of departure
clinging to it like desperate limpets,
wanting and despising, drooping
in their leathery rustling skins -
half tragically, half comically, they endure.
10. INTERRUPTING
(Metaneira, the Eleusinian queen,
took Demeter as nurse for her new baby.
the nereid Thetis was wife of Peleus
the Thessalian king.
Demeter put the baby into the fire
attempting to make him immortal.
Thetis tried to burn away
the human portion of her children's bodies.)
***
we mortals, dying creatures of the moment,
intrude upon the working of the gods.
in Eleusis and in Peleus' palace
Demeter and Thetis, alchemists,
try to transmute the base into the pure;
but Metaneira, screaming and dishevelled,
interrupts the transformation;
terrified Peleus stops it dead in its tracks.
11. WINDOWS
in the twilight of these dreary rooms
where i drag out my vacuuous life
i stagger around trying to unblind some windows.
i only require one window to help me see -
there must be one, surely!
my hands encounter nothing but bare blank wall.
perhaps the darkness is best.
light may bring a deeper disappointment.
seeing might be fresh grief.
12. TROJANS
sometimes it seems our efforts are cursed,
prone to disaster like those of the Trojans.
initially we're successful, make our first move,
grow stronger and bolder, leaving our shelter.
then comes a fatal lacuna -
huge-muscled Achilles jumps out of the ground
swearing and screaming like an armed harpy
and our courage congeals in our guts.
like the Trojans, we think our luck will change
if only we would steadfastly attack
leaving the safety of our massive walls
to fight upon the windy plain.
but when the time comes, when the trumpet sounds,
we tremble like cornered rats,
run crazily out of the gate to left and right,
fail to confront the bold enemy
who stands laughing, amazed, before us.
yes, we fail; again and again we fail.
the disbelieving populace, up there on the wall,
all the lords and ladies, all the people
are wailing and covering their eyes,
bemoaning our lack of purpose,
crying out at our lack of resolution,
Priam and Hecuba bitterly sobbing.
13. HUGE FOOTFALLS IN THE GOLDEN HOUSE
beautiful coral eagles with wings outstretched
protect the ebony bed where Nero lies
in cloudy happy slumber
his alabaster skin just tinged with pink
in his unblemished youthful prime.
but in the colder marble hall
where stand the frowning ancestral heads
upon their plinths of rusticated stone,
how unrestful are the household gods!
and all the smaller gods are there a-tremble
attempting to hide their manikin forms
behind the larger deities.
they have heard the dull thud thud
of deadly heavy footfalls on the stair
and feel the foundations shaking.
faint with fear, they scramble for the dark
twittering and shrieking, stumbling and tumbling,
manikin on top of manikin.
they know the meaning of that awful sound -
the Furies are coming for retribution!
14. MONOTONY
another dreary day after another,
samely monotonous!
similar things occur over and over
the echoing moment re-echoes and echoes again
drawn out to a dull infinity.
a month passes and starts a similar month.
it’s easy to foretell what lies ahead -
yesterday’s boredom recurs tomorrow
and identical tomorrow shows no change,
the same as today.
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