The Windows

In these dark chambers here what weary days
I spend, walk up and down as in a maze
To find the windows.----Only to unclose
One of these windows will be some relief.---
But somehow windows this room hasn’t got,
Or I can’t find them. Perhaps I’ better not.
Perhaps the light would be another grief.
What fresh surprises ther might be, who knows?

by Constantine P. Cavafy

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