Ithaka by C. P. Cavafy
Ithaka
by C. P. Cavafy
trans. Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
This one came to me by my futurist friend Pascal Finette, reinforcing so beautifully that it is the journey that matters. I love the visuals of it, the harbors along the way. I’ve loved travels in the world that have taken me to the souks of Morocco and grand bazaars of Istanbul. This world is for the experiencing of it. And we bring our monsters with us, our soul sets them up before us to encounter and we are richer for it.
This was originally written in Greek in 1911, when Cavafy was 48. He was born in Alexandria, and worked as a clerk for the Egyptian Ministry of Public Works, and only became recognized after his death. As a closeted gay man, his erotic poems are foundational works of queer literature. He was melancholic for the worlds of antiquity.
