The Horses of Achilles Thermopylae Priest at the Serapeion

The Horses of Achilles

When they saw Patroklos dead
–so brave and strong, so young–
the horses of Achilles began to weep;
their immortal nature was upset deeply
by this work of death they had to look at.
They reared their heads, tossed their long manes,
beat the ground with their hooves, and mourned
Patroklos, seeing him lifeless, destroyed,
now mere flesh only, his spirit gone,
defenseless, without breath,
turned back from life to the great Nothingness.

Zeus saw the tears of those immortal horses and felt sorry.
“At the wedding of Peleus,” he said,
“I should not have acted so thoughtlessly.
Better if we hadn’t given you as a gift,
my unhappy horses. What business did you have down there,
among pathetic human beings, the toys of fate.
You are free of death, you will not get old,
yet ephemeral disasters torment you.
Men have caught you up in their misery.”
But it was for the eternal disaster of death
that those two gallant horses shed their tears.

C. P. Cavafy, Collected Poems. Transl. by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, edited by George Savidis. Revised Edition. Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1992.

Thermopylae

Honor to those who in the life they lead
define and guard a Thermopylae.
Never betraying what is right,
consistent and just in all they do
but showing pity also, and compassion;
generous when they are rich, and when they are poor,
still generous in small ways,
still helping as much as they can;
always speaking the truth,
yet without hating those who lie.

And even more honor is due to them
when they foresee (as many do foresee)
that in the end Ephialtis will make his appearance,
that the Medes will break through after all.

C. P. Cavafy, Collected Poems. Transl. by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, edited by George Savidis. Revised Edition. Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1992.

Priest at the Serapeion

My kind old father
whose love for me has always stayed the same–
I mourn my kind old father
who died two days ago, just before dawn.

Christ Jesus, I try each day
in my every thought, word, and deed
to keep the commandments
of your most holy Church; and I abhor
all who deny you. But now I mourn:
I grieve, O Christ, for my father
even though he was–terrible as it is to say it–
priest at that cursed Serapeion.

C. P. Cavafy, Collected Poems. Transl. by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, edited by George Savidis. Revised Edition. Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1992.