Candles

The days of the future stand in front of us
Like a line of candles all alight----
Golden and warm and lively little candles.
The days that are past are left behind,
A mournful row of candles that are out;
The nearer ones are still smoking,
Candles cold, and melted, candles bent.,
I don’t want to see them; their shapes hurt me,
It hurts me to remember the light of them at first.
I look before me at my lighted candles,
I don’t want to turn around and see with horror
How quickly the dark line is lengthening,
How quickly the candles multiply that have been put out.

by Constantine P. Cavafy

Other poems of CAVAFY (353)

Comments (2)

I actually like how it is put but if you think there is a translation that is better then please send the site or poem to me. :)
It would be good to know who the translator was. This is one of worst version I have ever read.