your face, which I keep inside my soul

Even though I may not speak about my love— 

I may not talk about your hair, or your lips, 

        or your eyes; 

still, your face, which I keep inside my soul; 

the sound of your voice, which I keep inside my mind; 

the September days that dawn within my dreams; 

my words and phrases take their shape and color 

        from these, 

whatever subject I may touch upon, whatever idea 

        I may be speaking of. 

 

[C.P. Cavafy {1863-1933} 'December 1903' from Poems in Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets]