Cavafy Poem 36: In the Church

36. IN THE CHURCH


Entering the church, I have to shiver
with wonder
(some future person walks upon my grave).

Constantine's embroidered standard
glows in the semi-darkness
amid the gleam of sacred silver vessels
and tall hierarchical candlesticks
ranged on the altar.

The pulpit, the watching ikons,
the flicker of smoking lamps....

This church of the Greeks
with heady smell of exotic incense
soaked and smoked into the very furniture,
into the walls.

The stirring chanting of harmonious voices,
tall handsome and imposing priests
draped in dazzling vestments,
their slow, enacted, comely
postures and gestures --

Surrounded by all this,
this dignity, this glory,
my reverent thought
records and wonders at
the still unfaded splendours
of Byzantium.

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