Wednesday, February 12, 2014

TUESDAY POEM | Ithaca by Constantine P. Cavafy

Es Vedras, Ibiza - home, legend suggests, to the sirens who tried to lure Odysseus from his ship. . .  


                       When you set out for Ithaka
                       ask that your way be long,
                       full of adventure, full of instruction.
                       The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
                       angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
                       such as these you will never find
                       as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
                       emotion touch your spirit and your body.
                       The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
                       angry Poseidon - you will not meet them
                       unless you carry them in your soul,
                       unless your soul raise them up before you.

                       Ask that your way be long.
                       At many a Summer dawn to enter
                       with what gratitude, what joy -
                       ports seen for the first time;
                       to stop at Phoenician trading centres,
                       and to buy good merchandise,
                       mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
                       and sensuous perfumes of every kind,
                       sensuous perfumes as lavishly as you can;
                       to visit many Egyptian cities,
                       to gather stores of knowledge from the learned.

                       Have Ithaka always in your mind.
                       Your arrival there is what you are destined for.
                       But don't in the least hurry the journey.
                       Better it last for years,
                       so that when you reach the island you are old,
                       rich with all you have gained on the way,
                       not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
                       Ithaka gave you a splendid journey.
                       Without her you would not have set out.
                       She hasn't anything else to give you.

                       And if you find her poor, Ithaka hasn't deceived you.
                       So wise you have become, of such experience,
                       that already you'll have understood what these Ithakas mean. 

We decided to keep last week's poem Bogong Moth by Joe Dolce up for another week over on our Tuesday Poem hub. Do visit the TP blog to read Joe's poem and explore the sidebar on the left-handside of the page for a rich repertoire of international poets and consistently fine poetry. 

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