I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul
Constantine P. Cavafy
Translated by Edmund Keeley
Why don’t our distinguished orators turn up as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today
and they’re bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
When instead of swallowing a fistful
of white pills,
you decided to shower,
the palm trees
nodded in agreement,
a choir
of crickets singing
behind your swollen eyes.