Le miroir du vestibule
Un vieux miroir acquis il y a plus de quatre-vingts ans ornait le vestibule de cette riche maison.
Un jeune apprenti tailleur (athlète amateur le dimanche) entra avec un paquet. Il le remit à une personne qui l'emporta avec le reçu. L'apprenti resta seul et attendit. Il s'approcha du miroir, s'y arrangea en regardant sa cravate. Cinq minutes plus tard on lui rendit le reçu. Il le prit et s'en alla.
Mais le vieux miroir qui avait reflété tant d'objets et de visages exulta d'avoir réfléchi un instant la beauté parfaite.
Poèmes, Constantin Cavafy (1863-1933)
Traduction : Marguerite Yourcenar et Constantin Dimaras
The Mirror In The Front Hall
The luxurious house had a huge mirror
in the front hall, a very old mirror,
bought at least eighty years ago.
A good-looking boy, a tailor's assistant
(on Sundays an amateur athlete),
stood there with a package. He gave it to one of the household
who took it in to get the receipt.
The tailor's assistant,
left alone as he waited,
went up to the mirror, looked at himself,
and adjusted his tie. Five minutes later
they brought him the receipt. He took it and went away.
But the old mirror that had seen so much
in its long life-
thousands of objects, faces-
the old mirror was full of joy now,
proud to have embraced
total beauty for a few moments.
Constantine P. Cavafy (1863-1933)
