The Gods Abandon Antony by Constantine P. Cavafy (Two Translations)

The Gods Abandon Antony

When suddenly, at midnight, there comes the sound

of an invisible procession passing by

with exquisite music playing, with voices raised—

your good fortune, which now gives way; all your efforts’

ill-starred outcome; the plans you made for life,

which turned out wrong: don’t mourn them uselessly.

Like one who’s long prepared, like someone brave,

bid farewell to her, to Alexandria, who is leaving.

Above all do not fool yourself, don’t say

that it was a dream, that your ears deceived you;

don’t stoop to futile hopes like these.

Like one who’s long prepared, like someone brave

as befits a man who’s been blessed with a city like this,

go without faltering toward the window

and listen with deep emotion, but not

with the entreaties and the whining of a coward,

to the sounds—a final entertainment—

to the exquisite instruments of that initiate crew,

and bid farewell to her, to Alexandria, whom you are losing.

(Translated by Daniel Mendelsohn)

The Gods Abandon Antony

When suddenly, at midnight, you hear

an invisible procession going by

with exquisite music, voices,

don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,

work gone wrong, your plans

all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.

As one long prepared, and graced with courage,

say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.

Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say

it was a dream, your ears deceived you:

don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.

As one long prepared, and graced with courage,

as is right for you who proved worthy of this kind of city,

go firmly to the window

and listen with deep emotion, but not

with the whining, the pleas of a coward;

listen—your final delectation—to the voices,

to the exquisite music of that strange procession,

and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.  

(Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)