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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358691" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Candles</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358691" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The days of the future stand in front of us<br>Like a line of candles all alight----<br>Golden and warm and lively little candles.<br>The days that are past are left behind,<br>A mournful row of candles that are out;<br>The nearer ones are still smoking,<br>Candles cold, and melted, candles bent.,<br>I don’t want to see them; their shapes hurt me,<br>It hurts me to remember the light of them at first.<br>I look before me at my lighted candles,<br>I don’t want to turn around and see with horror<br>How quickly the dark line is lengthening,<br>How quickly the candles multiply that have been put out.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Constantine+P.+Cavafy">Constantine P. Cavafy</a></strong></div>

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