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Gray

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Looking at an opal of medium gray,

I remembered two beautiful gray eyes

that I saw; it must be twenty years ago. …

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

For one month we were in love.

Then the departure, for Smyrna I daresay,

to get work there, and we never saw each other again.

Those gray eyes—if they’re alive—will have lost their beauty;

the beautiful face will have fallen into ruins.

O my memory, keep them as they were.

And, memory, whatever you can bring back from that love of mine,

whatever you can, bring back to me tonight.

[1917; 1917]

The Complete Poems of C.P. Cavafy

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