SADLY SELDOM
after Cavafy
SADLY SELDOM
after Cavafy
Stiffly limping up the alley
an old man plods, crippled, weary,
hampered by his former pleasures.
Home at last, he slams his door
to hide his age and feebleness
but weighs the share of youth left his.
While boys and men still chant his poems,
his images still shimmer in their eyes,
their minds and knitted flesh attuned,
excited by the beauties he’s expressed,
he’s gladly seldom sad for them.