Cavafy Poem 62: One of Their Gods

This is probably my favourite of Cavafy's poems, the one where the mundane and the divine most closely intermingle. Although he bears many of the stigmata of the rationalist, Cavafy can sometimes take metaphysical wing and soar, as he does here. I have helped him in his flight with passages of my own invention, so that this poem is really co-authored, by him and me. My poem is three times as long as Cavafy's original; I have plumped out the original bones with elucidating material and scenery, with lushness and ripeness. It is # 62 of the Canon.

Cavafy's Seleucia was the capital of the Hellenistic Seleucid Empire. There were however several towns called Seleucia. Mine is in the foothills between mountain range and purple plain somewhere in Asia Minor.

62. One of Their Gods

after the gold, after the gold and rose...
scented altitude of mountain passes
where intertwining roses cluster
releasing rich perfume at eventide.

after the gold, after the gold and rose...
hushed voices of the people in the streets;
the little lonely town of Seleucia
between high peaks and purple plains
scented with the air of mountain roses
washed by occasional pleasant rains.
a place of purity; though sordid vices
inhabit the dusky rooms of upper floors
whose closed windows shutter and enfold
the privacy of lovers' intertwinings
intimacy of hot, unhallowed beds.
Is it dawn or dusk? They cannot tell,
wrapped in the forgetfulness of love.

after the gold, after the gold and rose
jasmine-scented breezes softly blow
through the green and silver afterglow.
high up the homeward flocking pigeons
turn and wheel and sink.
the streets begin to stir in the little town
after day's exhausting heat.

He walked through the luminous twilight -
green and silver after the rose and gold had slowly faded;
turning now to purple and deep shadow -
through the market of Seleucia,
walking quickly, with determination
toward the redlight district, unabashed.
Beyond nature's requirements, past natural use
beautifully, radiantly handsome
seemingly incorruptible and pure;
mixed lights of immortality, of immorality
in his eyes of radiant ageless blue
(ice upon the peaks against the summer sky).

His long black hair was perfumed;
as he passed he left behind him
the scent of roses in thin mountain air
the scent of midnight jasmine.

People gazed in wonderment; in undertones
asked each other did they know him?
Was he native here, Seleucia's son?
Or from Syria? Or a stranger?
The older, wiser, understood and nodded,
saying nothing. They stepped aside
with fingers to their lips;
reverently, their eyes now brimmed with tears, watched,
speechlessly watched
as the divine form melted between the pillars
and disappeared among arcaded shadows.

The older, wiser, understood; made the sign
of blessing on their breasts;
wondered which of the gods had wandered down
from the holy mansions on the mountain top.
What was his purpose? What questionable pleasure
drew to the sordid stations of Seleucia
one of the ever-living?

after the gold, after the gold and rose,
after the green and silver twilight faded,
after the purple of the colonnade,
after the dark had come
they heard the music playing,
clacking castanets and sistra shaken,
glissade of the harp, the reedy pipes,
sounds of dancing, chanting, singing
above the rooftops of Seleucia,
singing until the golden dawn.

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[cavafyinenglish]

Thanks Allen, glad you liked it.There's a better version (better sound & vision than YT allows!) on my Vloggerheads channel - see vloggerheads com under name Charles Bryant ;)

[EROSGODOFGAYS]

An excellent work Chas. It is beautiful.