In the Tavernas
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
I didn't want to stay
in Alexandria. Tamides left me;
he went off with the Prefect's son to earn himself
a villa on the Nile, a mansion in the city.
It wouldn't have been right for me to stay in Alexandria.
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
I live a vile life, devoted to cheap debauchery.
The one thing that saves me,
like durable beauty, like perfume
that goes on clinging to my flesh, is this: Tamides,
most exquisite of young men, was mine for two years,
and mine not for a house or a villa on the Nile.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Related quotes
Beirut
Beirut looks, to me, like
A beautiful young girl,
Full of life,
Full of mirth,
Who made no mistake,
Who can not be blamed,
For being created
So cheerful,
Jealousy not love
Has surrounded
Beirut since birth,
Yet all traps and tricks
To destroy innocent
Beirut failed,
And Beirut will be Beirut,
Until Dooms Day.
poem by Nadia Abduljabbar
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Honeymoon In Beirut
I wake up every night (to the sound)
To the sound of breaking glass
Got troops in the bed
And tanks in the hall
I kidnapped and held for ransom (the one in me)
The one in me that you loved
We wait for the fall
And put emotional bullet holes in the wall
And we both, keep sending signals all is well
Wish you were here
Honeymoon in beirut
Although I keep on sending postcards
From heaven (tell me)
Why do I stay (I dont know)
Honeymoon in beirut
And we still keep pretending
Sixes are sevens (tell me)
Why cant we say
There is no honeymoon
This is no honeymoon, no
This is no honeymoon
There is no honeymoon, no
Honeymoon in beirut
There are no peace talks pending
No quarter given (theres just)
Blood on the bed, where there used to be love
Strategy and maneuvers (have replaced)
Any love that was here
We have dinner in silence
And bullets with beer
I dont know what you want (my defeat)
Or complete surrender
Or peace in our time
While in bed we draw the battle line
And we sit, out in the rain
Writing cards to friends back home
The weather is fine
Honeymoon in beirut
Although I keep on sending postcards
From heaven (tell me)
Why do I stay (I dont know)
Honeymoon in beirut
And we still keep pretending
Sixes are sevens (tell me)
Why cant we say
There is no honeymoon
This is no honeymoon, no
This is no honeymoon
There is no honeymoon, no
And we stand out in the rain
Smiling as we sink like a stone
And hope for the end (whatever it is)
Honeymoon in beirut
Although I keep on sending postcards
From heaven (tell me)
Why do I stay (I dont know)
Honeymoon in beirut
And we still keep pretending
Sixes are sevens (tell me)
Why cant we say
There is no honeymoon
This is no honeymoon, no
This is no honeymoon
There is no honeymoon, no
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wallowings
I am in the Wallowing-
there I find my best and worse.
Pity-Wallow is where I focus
all on my self and go inward
for long moments of pity-filled indulgence of self.
Sorrow-Wallow allows me to grieve
on my own terms, yet not really suffer
too much.
Wallow-Defeats are my best
and where I re-learn over and over again
not to regret.
Good Wallow where I learn lessons
over and over again-
Down is the best way Up;
Out is the best way Back:
Wallow-Defeat is the path to Happiness-
if you Wallow quietly and accept
that a Good Wallow is where you
plan for the Wallow-Through
not stop and rest amid your Wallowings.
As my Mother used to say:
'Cry and Wallow that's ok
but use the time to plan to get
back on your feet again.'
A good Wallow is a terrible thing to waste.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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When Someone Says: "Alexandria"
When someone says: "Alexandria,"
I see the white walls of a house,
a small garden row of gillyflowers,
an autumn evening's pale sunlight
and hear the music of distant flutes.
When someone says: "Alexandria,"
I see stars above the hushed city,
drunken sailors in dark quarters,
a dancing girl performing the "wasp,"
and hear tambourines and the noise of fights.
When someone says "Alexandria,"
I see a pale purple sunset above the green sea,
the flickering of furry stars
and the light grey eyes beneath thick brows
that I see even when
no one says: "Alexandria!"
poem by Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin
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Lebanon: Mountains, Meadows, Springs and Sea In The Same Sphere
And you ask me ' why
Do you love Beirut,
And Lebanon as a whole'?
Well, it is a requited kind of love,
For Lebanon love s me as well,
I can only reply
Saying can't you see
How it could heal
My physical
And psychological
Scars and wounds;
Is there a place
Like Beirut,
I wonder.
Now I am in Iowa,
But Lebanon sent Maria,
For me,
Maria is a Lebanese virgin
All of Lebanon is embodied in
The beauty of her face:
Her hair ‘s colour is like Al-Bekaa' s hay
Her white complexion
I s like Al-Arz' snow
And all the beauty
All the anger and calmness;
All the sadness
And tears
Of the Mediterranean waves
Are reflected in the shade
Of Maria's dark
Blue eyes
Is there a place
On this earth
Like Beirut,
I wonder!
The LADY of the whole World,
As Nizar says and Magda sings,
Could awake
My love for life;
My vitality
How can I not love her.
Is there a spot
That combines all
Contradictions in a smooth smart way
Like Lebanon
I wander!
Lebanon is my small cosmos,
It is God's Paradise on earth,
As Wadee' enchanting
Melody says;
The Whole world can be found
In this metropolitan fantastic place,
If I miss Saltsburg's blue mountains
I go to the Lebanese mountains and hills
If I miss birds of the English countryside,
I go to Al Bekaa's landscape
If I want to shop,
If I want good books,
If I want good food,
If I want to enjoy both
City and scenery
I go to Beirut,
If I want to drink spring water
I go to the city of many wills;
This is the meaning of Beirut's name;
Wills used to nourish old Beirut
And still
Just as it nourishes my sight, my heart
And will
It irrigates me
Just like a spring
That irrigates forests
In the wilderness.
poem by Nadia Abduljabbar
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Herodis Attikos
What glory, this, for Herodis Attikos!
Alexander of Selefkia, one of our better sophists,
on reaching Athens to lecture
finds the city deserted
because Herodis was in the country and all the young men
had followed him there to hear him.
This makes sophist Alexander
write Herodis a letter
begging him to send the Greeks back.
And the tactful Herodis answers at once:
'Along with the Greeks, I'm coming too.'
How many young men now in Alexandria,
in Antioch or Beirut
(being trained by Hellenism as its future orators),
meeting at choice banquets
where the talk is sometimes about fine sophistry,
sometimes about their exquisite love affairs,
suddenly find their attention wandering and fall silent?
Their glasses untouched,
they think about Herodis' fortune-
what other sophist has been given this kind of honour?
Whatever his wish, whatever he does,
the Greeks (the Greeks!) follow him,
not to criticize or debate,
not even to choose any longer,
only to follow.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Kelle
Wantonness,
To wallow again in the mine;
And like a dog that returns to its own vomit.
Wallow, callow, fallow, hallow, mallow, sallow, tallow;
I am Kelle in the land of your muse,
But do remember to keep the black pot always clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Man's Alexandria
A Man’s Alexandria
A woman came into the living room looking sideways
she brought ice cold beer and snacks, Alexandria, this
this was a modern Egyptian his waif’s face not covered
by a veil, the skin of her face was poke marked. I heard
voices in the kitchen it was of his daughters but I never
saw them, and that was ok, I do not know how to talk
to children. When we left the house they all had
disappeared into grey shadows, my Egyptian friend
shouted orders to no one in particular. Nightclub and
belly dancing, my friend disappeared with one of them,
I had been the stooge, but all bills had been paid, so ok.
Walked back to my ship alone, packs of docks along
the docks didn’t bother me; I had met a culture I didn’t
understand my Egyptian friend said that he didn’t had any
children since he didn’t have sons.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Cocotte
When a girl's sixteen, and as poor as she's pretty,
And she hasn't a friend and she hasn't a home,
Heigh-ho! She's as safe in Paris city
As a lamb night-strayed where the wild wolves roam;
And that was I; oh, it's seven years now
(Some water's run down the Seine since then),
And I've almost forgotten the pangs and the tears now,
And I've almost taken the measure of men.
Oh, I found me a lover who loved me only,
Artist and poet, and almost a boy.
And my heart was bruised, and my life was lonely,
And him I adored with a wonderful joy.
If he'd come to me with his pockets empty,
How we'd have laughed in a garret gay!
But he was rich, and in radiant plenty
We lived in a villa at Viroflay.
Then came the War, and of bliss bereft me;
Then came the call, and he went away;
All that he had in the world he left me,
With the rose-wreathed villa at Viroflay.
Then came the news and the tragic story:
My hero, my splendid lover was dead,
Sword in hand on the field of glory,
And he died with my name on his lips, they said.
So here am I in my widow's mourning,
The weeds I've really no right to wear;
And women fix me with eyes of scorning,
Call me "cocotte", but I do not care.
And men look at me with eyes that borrow
The brightness of love, but I turn away;
Alone, say I, I will live with Sorrow,
In my little villa at Viroflay.
And lo! I'm living alone with Pity,
And they say that pity from love's not far;
Let me tell you all: last week in the city
I took the metro at Saint Lazare;
And the carriage was crowded to overflowing,
And when there entered at Chateaudun
Two wounded poilus with medals showing,
I eagerly gave my seat to one.
You should have seen them: they'd slipped death's clutches,
But sadder a sight you will rarely find;
One had a leg off and walked on crutches,
The other, a bit of a boy, was blind.
And they both sat down, and the lad was trying
To grope his way as a blind man tries;
And half of the women around were crying,
And some of the men had tears in their eyes.
How he stirred me, this blind boy, clinging
Just like a child to his crippled chum.
But I did not cry. Oh no; a singing
Came to my heart for a year so dumb,
Then I knew that at three-and-twenty
There is wonderful work to be done,
Comfort and kindness and joy in plenty,
Peace and light and love to be won.
Oh, thought I, could mine eyes be given
To one who will live in the dark alway!
To love and to serve -- 'twould make life Heaven
Here in my villa at Viroflay.
So I left my poilus: and now you wonder
Why to-day I am so elate. . . .
Look! In the glory of sunshine yonder
They're bringing my blind boy in at the gate.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Story of River Nile with Egyptian Women
Once upon a time in the beautiful ancient Egypt
The sun asked the river Nile
From where you got this golden color?
The river Nile said
It's the color of the Egyptian women skin
When they come to bath
I melt some of their skin's color
The sphinx asked the river Nile
From where you got this sweet taste? The river Nile said
My sweetness is from the sweat of the Egyptian women.
The pyramid asked the river Nile
Why you flooding up every year
The river Nile said
When i feel longing to have more women
The Egyptian men protested against the Nile
Please stop your sexual harass
They always come back asking for more
The river Nile asked
So do you give them what they need?
The Egyptian men said
Yes we must do..We can't resist their temptation.
The same with me
The river Nile said.
poem by hosny Soliman
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The God Abandons Anthony
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 were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
And listen with deep emotion, but not
with 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.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The God Abandons Antony
At midnight, when suddenly 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 full of courage,
say goodbye to her, to Alexandria who 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 full of courage,
as is right for you who were given 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 pleasure--to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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Alexandria Egypt.
Alexandria egypt your beauty is present in all seasons
I tell you why you are beautiful, here are the reasons:
Your beauty extends into the heavens,
it goes on forever and never lessens.
Even when the clouds heighten
you are here and the world brightens.
You are like a fruit that constantly ripens
your beauty continues to grow no mater what happens.
My fondness for you constantly deepens
because every time I visit you my heart weaken.
You make everything else appear hollow
your beauty and seashores they follow and follow.
You shine so bright you cast your own shadow
a beauty that others would love to borrow.
But try as they might your beauty they will never catch
because something like you they could never match.
Your beauty seems to increase with every breathe
it tests the limits that all imaginations can stretch.
Your beauty is so vast it can't be concealed
there is no hiding it your beauty is always revealed.
The power of your beauty is the world's greatest gift
the heaviest boulder it could easily lift.
Alexandria you are perfect and i for one love you
And for me, all has changed the moment visited you.
Heaven on Earth I was not aware
Alexandria you are crafted with such care.
You are the answer to my prayer
If they or who asks about you
i shall say you have something very rare
with so much beauty, and beauty to spare
poem by Salma. Torrez
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From The School Of The Renowned Philosopher
For two years he studied with Ammonios Sakkas,
but he was bored by both philosophy and Sakkas.
Then he went into politics.
But he gave that up. That Prefect was an idiot,
and those around him, somber-faced officious nitwits:
their Greek—poor fools—absolutely barbaric.
After that he became
vaguely curious about the Church: to be baptized
and pass as a Christian. But he soon
changed his mind: it would certainly have caused a row
with his parents, ostentatious pagans,
and—horrible thought—
they would have cut off at once
their extremely generous allowance.
But he had to do something. He began to haunt
the corrupt houses of Alexandria,
every secret den of debauchery.
In this fortune favored him:
he’d been given an extremely handsome figure.
And he enjoyed the divine gift.
His looks would last
at least another ten years. And after that?
Maybe he’ll go back to Sakkas.
Or if the old man has died meanwhile,
he’ll go to another philosopher or sophist:
there’s always someone suitable around.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Ancient Egyptian Women Bathe In River Nile
The River Nile, the sphinx, the pyramids,
ask questions of us all, as do the bodies,
skin tones, sweet sweat, female Egyptians.
Ra and Nile melt golden skin colours,
into fresh taste of sacred Nile waters,
pyramids watch longing as Nile floods.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Actors didn't use to be celebrities. A hundred years ago, they put the theaters next to the brothels.
quote by Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hi There, Outside World
Hi there, Outside world,
It's been a while, you see.
I've missed you lots, and tons, and much,
And we all know you've missed me.
Hi there, Outside world,
Come inside and stay a while,
No one will know where you've gone,
In here, from the world, so vile.
Hi there, Outside world,
Aren't you curious where I've been?
Don't you want to know everything,
Like why, and how, and when?
Hi there, Outside world,
It's much better inside of doors,
No noises, or sickness, or hate, or death,
Here there's only peace, no wars.
Hi there, Outside world,
Wouldn't you love to get away?
Just leave them there, Forget they care,
Just come inside and stay.
Hi there, Outside world,
We can be friends, just you and me,
We can sing, and dance, and talk,
And for once, we'll both be free.
Hi there, Outside world,
That world is a scary place,
Wouldn't you rather a nice warm house,
Where evil leaves no trace?
Hi there, Outside world,
Come live with me, my dear,
You'll never go another day,
While cowering in fear.
Hi there, Outside world,
Please don't ask to leave,
I need someone to stay with me,
It's lonely, you'll believe.
Wait, Outside world,
I can convince you, you'll see,
Just stay here for evermore,
Leave those people be.
Outside world, I need your help,
Don't leave me here to die,
It's sad, and I feel alone,
In my spare time, I cry.
What's that you say, Outside world?
Leave my house of sadness?
Go with you to your outside place?
My word, now that's just madness!
Listen here, Outside world,
I'm never welcome back,
I've left there once, and can't return,
Of that, I'm sure as fact.
Silly little Outside world,
You say I'm missed a lot,
How could that be, Outside world,
If I've never been sought.
I see all, Outside world,
And I know they do not want me,
I'd rather stay here, in my mind,
Than live amongst the happy.
I fear I can't, Outside world,
This house is all I need,
I know it's meager, and so dark,
But, I must live my creed.
I swore an oath, Outside world,
That I should live in here for ever,
Never leave, Never be,
With or without endeavor.
I keep my word, Outside world,
This place is where I stay,
I never can go back, you see,
I've gone too far away.
Goodbye, Outside world,
I really enjoyed our chat,
I'm sorry to hear you have to go,
Devastated, at that.
So long, Outside world,
If I never see you again,
Tell the world what happened here,
Don't let it happen to them.
poem by K.N. Sheldon
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Danville
Danville, Dan, villa, ill, ale, dial, lad, din, dine;
Of the confidence!
Of the mighty sceptre,
Of the glorious staff,
And to accept it;
But, you said that you love me.
Dave, diva, nail, veal, vale, veil, den, an, deal!
Like the read sea;
Exclusive red! !
Like the muse of your love;
Lead, led, lane, lean, in, Nile, idle, vine, vain, line!
But, i am always around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Pigs prefer to wallow in clean mud, but if nothing else is available, they will frequently wallow in their own urine, giving rise to the notion that they are dirty animals.
quote by Marvin Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thinks - Sphinx?
Yes but has anyone tested it lately?
(Or Him. Or Her?)
Well, wouldn’t you get fed up?
You’ve sat there, haunched,
for tens of thousands of years,
all your friends have long ago gone
to that place you could tell tourists about
if they only asked
but no, they take photographs of you
or pay over the odds for them,
make silly rude comments
about your missing nose,
concoct theories about the Pyramids,
eat fast food, Nile style, which goes through fast,
and you’ve waited all that time
for even a half-decent question
which could pass on the wisdom of ages,
hit the Nile on the head,
restore civilisation to its true stature,
questions that didn’t arise
when the pyramids were being built
since they reckoned
they knew the answers
like, how did it all begin? or
have you allowed for the precession of the Poles? or
where do your builders go
on the days they’re not here with you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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