On page 5 of today’s box, Modern Greeks poets and the poets choose their favorites poem from Cavafy. Mr. Grey, not being a poet, wants to choose his own favorite poem by a leading (and world famous) Greek poet: “The Tomb of Jesus”.

A short, concise poem following the logic of an ancient funerary epigram. Poetic commentaries with a peculiarity: the dead man himself speaks from the grave. He has nothing to say: the dead don’t talk. They have mastered an enviable economy and, moreover, in their views on things there is something unbearably realistic, even cynical: life is over, what else can I say?

Jassy Cavafy, “from that great city (s.s. Alexandria), a young man famous for his beauty”, who was admired by “profound wise men”, but also “frivolous, simple people”, from the other world, expresses his misfortune: “But for now I was Narcissus and Mercury in the world, insults spoiled me, killed me.

At the end of the poem, there is a serious and at the same time so strangely light verbal address, to which the dead are accustomed in ancient funerary epigrams to a passer-by over their grave: “Diabat, if you are an Alexandrian, you will not criticize. You know the momentum of our life, what a heat it is, what a supreme pleasure.”

Yes, the dead do not forget the bliss, euphoria, hedonism of just being alive. Moreover, the polis follows you even after death, especially when it is identical with the flow of life, the contradiction that nests in its core.

“But while I was Narcissus and Hermes in the world, insults spoiled me, killed me.”

Mr Gray loves this poem by Cavaf for another reason: it reminds him of the ancient Greek epitaphs he discovered at the age of 25 thanks to the exquisite translations of Pantelis Boukala (Epitafios Logos, ed. Agra, 1995). He quotes:

“Often I sang, now from the grave I will shout: Drink. Before this dust surrounds you” (Julian of Egypt).

An anonymous deceased confesses: “I have died many deaths, but never one like this one.”

Simonides Keyos whispers from inside the tomb: “I ate too little, I drank too little, I got very sick. And I died. Even if it’s already late. So, to the tsakidia. All of you”.

Mr. Gray’s last stop is Pavlos Silentarios: “- My name…/ Well, and then?/ – My homeland…/ – Well, then?// – I was born to hold a crane. / — And if Would you be one of the humble?/ – Until my death I lived gloriously./ – What if you lived ingloriously?// – And now I’m going to bed./ – To whom and to whom are you saying this?