The Afternoon Sun

Schiele Room

For my 24th birthday, a Greek friend of mine (Alexandra) gave me a book of poetry by Constantine P. Cavafy. I just remembered this one as I was eating breakfast and running late for work.

The Afternoon Sun

This room, how well I know it.
Now they’re renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.

This room, how familiar it is.

The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.

They must still be around somewhere, those old things.

Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.

. . . One afternoon at four o’clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.


1 Comment

Filed under Digressions

One response to “The Afternoon Sun

  1. eric

    I love this poem so much!! It is so simple and shows that simplicity can elicit as much sentimentality in the reader as the most complex language. I think about all of the old furniture I had in some many different apartments, where it must be, and all of the stories that it could tell….

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