The Complete Poems of C.P. Cavafy. Daniel Mendelsohn

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       Caesarion

      In part to ascertain a certain date

      and in part to while away the time,

      last night I took down a collection

      of Ptolemaic inscriptions to read.

      The unstinting laudations and flatteries

      are the same for all. All of them are brilliant,

      glorious, mighty, beneficent;

      every undertaking utterly wise.

      As for the women of the line, they too,

      all the Berenices and the Cleopatras, are wonderful too.

      When I successfully ascertained the date

      I’d have finished with the book, if a tiny,

      insignificant reference to King Caesarion

      ­hadn’t attracted my attention suddenly. . . . . .

      Ah, there: you came with your indefinite

      charm. In history there are only a few

      lines that can be found concerning you;

      and so I could fashion you more freely in my mind.

      I fashioned you this way: beautiful and feeling.

      My artistry gives to your face

      a beauty that has a dreamy winsomeness.

      And so fully did I imagine you

      that yesterday, late at night, when the lamp

      went out—I deliberately let it go out—

      I dared to think you came into my room,

      it seemed to me you stood before me: as you must have been

      in Alexandria after it had been conquered,

      pale and wearied, perfect in your sorrow,

      still hoping they’d have mercy on you,

      those vile men—who whispered “Surfeit of Caesars.”

      [1914; 1918]