I’ve never been a fan of poetry, but on a rare occasion, a poem will seize me by the heart and never let go. In my first year at Johns Hopkins, my Spanish TA, Julie, gave all her students a copy of this poem at the end of our first class with her. Maybe she wanted to make the point that learning Spanish would be a journey best savored for the experience rather than the destination. I’m glad she made that point, because that particular journey, for me, went nowhere. That said, the poem remains my favorite to this day.
As you set out for Ithaca hope that your journey is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops, angry Poseidon – do not 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 sensation touches your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and 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 that your journey is a long one. May there be many summer mornings when, with what pleasure, what joy, you come into harbors seen 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 learn again from those who know.
Keep Ithaca always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for. But do not hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so that you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you have gained on the way, not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.
Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey. Without her you would not have set out. She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you. Wise as you will have become, so full of experience, you will have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.
