The aging of my body and my beauty
is a wound from a merciless knife.
I’m not resigned to it at all.
I turn to you, Art of Poetry,
because you have a kind of knowledge about drugs:
attempts to numb the pain, in Imagination and Language.
It is wound from a merciless knife.
Bring your drugs, Art of Poetry—
they numb the wound at least for a little while.
Constantine P. Cavafy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/melancholy-of-jason-kleander-poet-in-kommagini-a-d-595/
