It goes on being Alexandria still. Just walk a bit <br />along the straight road that ends at the Hippodrome <br />and you'll see palaces and monuments that will amaze you. <br />Whatever war-damage it's suffered, <br />however much smaller it's become, <br />it's still a wonderful city. <br />And then, what with excursions and books <br />and various kinds of study, time does go by. <br />In the evenings we meet on the sea front, <br />the five of us (all, naturally, under fictitious names) <br />and some of the few other Greeks <br />still left in the city. <br />Sometimes we discuss church affairs <br />(the people here seem to lean toward Rome) <br />and sometimes literature. <br />The other day we read some lines by Nonnos: <br />what imagery, what rhythm, what diction and harmony! <br />All enthusiasm, how we admired the Panopolitan. <br />So the days go by, and our stay here <br />isn't unpleasant because, naturally, <br />it's not going to last forever. <br />We've had good news: if something doesn't come <br />of what's now afoot in Smyrna, <br />then in April our friends are sure to move from Epiros, <br />so one way or another, our plans are definitely working out, <br />and we'll easily overthrow Basil. <br />And when we do, at last our turn will come.<br /><br />Constantine P. Cavafy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/exiles-2/
