548

december, 1903

and if I cannot speak about my love—
if I do not talk about your hair, your lips, your eyes,
still your face that I keep within my heart,
the sound of your voice that I keep within my mind,
the days of september that rise in my dreams,
give shape and color to my words, my sentences,
whatever theme I touch, whatever thought I utter.

c.p. cavafy