A dream I shared with my wife this morning, of finding myself in a remote desert place seems a metaphor for this blogger’s online absence. Having no memory of why I lacked the impulse to write these last several months, I can only ascribe this to taking a sabbatical. A desert is a wonderful metaphor for isolation and finding purpose.
Like that song by the band America, “A Horse with No Name”, I crossed the desert of my mind. Last evening I was an invited guest to a small group of poets gathered together to share a favorite with one another and dine together. My spouse has been a poet and a member of this poet “society” for quite some time, and now I got to rub elbows with her “people”.
One particular poem I only heard for the first time last night, was a familiar theme. The journey is familiar for I have read a lot of classical and contemporary (now, “last Century” “) writers, enjoyed a swath of interests, and travelled extensively in the Navy. I want to share this singular work of early 20th Century poet, C.V. Cavafy.
Ithaka
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.
C. P. Cavafy, "The City" from C.P. Cavafy: Collected Poems. Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Translation Copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Reproduced with permission of Princeton University Press.
Source: C.P. Cavafy: Collected Poems (Princeton University Press, 1975)
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