Cavafy Poem 148: Handkerchiefs

Cavafy Canon: Adapted from the Greek and read by
Charles Bryant

148. HANDKERCHIEFS

His office job was crap. He hated it.
Seven o'clock in the evening. He left his prison,
stepped out into the freedom of the street
feeling the shroud drop from him
alloted to him in that place of death
where daily he inevitably piecemeal died
for two pounds a week including tips.
Away from the funeral parlour (such he named it)
he strolled about and stretched his handsome limbs.
Just twenty-nine. A picture of young male beauty.

All the pent up passion of the day
seemed suddenly to flood him as he walked.
Singing exultation from depression
miraculously flowered, burst like a summer storm,
a rain of scent and blossom through his senses
instantly electrified. Then settled into hunger;
then into need and longing; then unrest.
He paced the twilight streets, a twitching lion
lashing its tail, bright eyes aflame and flashing
in angry yearning for proper food and mate.

A cut-price shop, full of tawdry goods.
Shining among the trash, a face and figure
instantly exuded answering need.
Hardly in control, he entered, moved
by something sweet from far outside himself
awoken from languorous sleep, stretching and purring.
Pretending he wished to buy some handkerchiefs,
half believing his own pathetic pretence,
his voice husky with passion, his shaking hands
groped among the proferred scattered goods
laid upon the counter in sacrifice
by the angel of the troubling face and figure
(archangelic features, lissom figure!)
setting out his master's various wares,
the observant owner sitting distant watching.

He asked about the price and quality;
the answering voice low-pitched as his own
similarly love-struck and intense;
hands glancingly delicately touching the other's hands
across the glass-topped counter's scattered goods,
heads bent close together (oh that lips
should press against those lips so achingly near!)
harrassed and furtive, trembling with desire.

_______________________________________________

This is one of Cavafy's better known (and loved) poems. I wonder why? For me, as surely for Cavafy, it has poignant autobiographical overtones. We have been there, seen that, felt these things.

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Tags:

• cavafy
• handkerchiefs
• charles
• bryant

[XaveJamesGrey]

Wow. It is a pleasure to hear you read this, Charles. I shall listen to this again tomorrow at 7 on my phone when I leave the office. Thank you.

[monkola]

As always, you breath new life into these past confessions of lost passions and grace audible once cold words. Thank you sir. I'm posting this on my tumblr page.

[Idlinfarm]

Poignant scene

[1zangelique]

Love-ly!! Beyond lovely. And great to see you on camera again, Charles. You handsome cuss, you!

[keanghiero]

MAGNIFICENT!

Thanks, dear Chas.

All the best

Kean

[vita9n]

Charles once again you bring Cavafy to me and my heart is ravished! Excellent. Thank you.