The Windows

by

Constantine Cavafy


In these darkened rooms, where I spend

oppressive days, I pace to and fro

to find the windows. — When a window

opens, it will be a consolation. —

But the windows cannot be found, or I cannot

find them. And maybe it is best that I do not find them.

Maybe the light will be a new tyranny.

Who knows what new things it will reveal.


(1903)



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