The God Abandons Antony, by C.P. Cavafy
At midnight, when suddenly you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly:
as one long prepared, and full of courage,
say goodbye to her, to Alexandria who is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and full of courage,
as is right for you who were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion,
but not with the whining, the please of a coward;
listen—your final pleasure—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of the strange procession,
and say good-bye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.
Its historical references aside, Cavafy’s poem is a song of loss and of longing that encapsulates both the fatalistic and ephemeral state of exile—not only from place, but from people, including aspects of oneself. “Say good-bye to Alexandria who is leaving … to the Alexandria you are losing…”
But the line that stands out to me as the most profound, is “Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say/it was a dream.” The time for self-delusion is over. Don’t try to make yourself feel better, or let yourself off the hook by saying that what was at stake was any less than the sum of you. Admin