I discovered Constantine Cavafy a while ago, when going
through one of those poetry anthologies. I don’t know how I didn’t know him sooner—he’s
amazing.
A Greek living for most of his life in Alexandria, Cavafy’s
profession was journalism, and then the British civil service. He died in 1933,
age 70.
My two favorite poems of his are “Ithaca” (1911) and “Waiting
for the Barbarians” (1904).
The Ithaca in question is the home of Odysseus. He had
not wanted to leave home when called by Menelaus and Agamemnon to fight the
Trojans. After nine years of besieging Troy (recounted in The Iliad) Odysseus set out on a journey home, which eventually
took him another 11 years. On the way he is beset by storms caused by an angry
Poseidon, escapes captivity by the Cyclops Polyphemus, runs up against the
cannibalistic Lestrygonians and outwits the sorceress Circe.
All the man wants to do is go home, put his feet up and reunite
with his wife and the son he last saw as an infant.
Last year I gave you Tennyson’s
view of Odysseus as an old man ready itching to set out on one last adventure.
Here, Cavafy is urging us all to live such a life that by the time we reach
the destination we are well and truly full of experiences and memories.
“Ithaca”
When
you set sail for Ithaca,
wish
for the road to be long,
full
of adventures, full of knowledge.
The
Lestrygonians and the Cyclopes,
an
angry Poseidon — do not fear.
You
will never find such on your path,
if
your thoughts remain lofty, and your spirit
and
body are touched by a fine emotion.
The
Lestrygonians and the Cyclopes,
a
savage Poseidon you will not encounter,
if
you do not carry them within your spirit,
if
your spirit does not place them before you.
Wish
for the road to be long.
Many
the summer mornings to be when
with
what pleasure, what joy
you
will enter ports seen for the first time.
Stop
at Phoenician markets,
and
purchase the fine goods,
nacre
and coral, amber and ebony,
and
exquisite perfumes of all sorts,
the
most delicate fragrances you can find.
To
many Egyptian cities you must go,
to
learn and learn from the cultivated.
Always
keep Ithaca in your mind.
To
arrive there is your final destination.
But
do not hurry the voyage at all.
It
is better for it to last many years,
and
when old to rest in the island,
rich
with all you have gained on the way,
not
expecting Ithaca to offer you wealth.
Ithaca
has given you the beautiful journey.
Without
her you would not have set out on the road.
Nothing
more does she have to give you.
And
if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise
as you have become, with so much experience,
you
must already have understood what Ithacas mean.
Until you reach the final line, you might be forgiven for
thinking that “Waiting for the Barbarians” is a commentary on contemporary
events. Or at least those of the past hundred years. But that’s what makes
poetry so powerful: the best of it is universal and timeless.
Those barbarians? What would we do without them?
“Waiting for the Barbarians”
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
The barbarians
are due here today.
Why isn't anything going on in the senate?
Why are the senators sitting there without legislating?
Because the
barbarians are coming today.
What's the
point of senators making laws now?
Once the
barbarians are here, they'll do the legislating.
Why did our emperor get up so early,
and why is he sitting enthroned at the city's main gate,
in state, wearing the crown?
Because the
barbarians are coming today
and the
emperor's waiting to receive their leader.
He's even got a
scroll to give him,
loaded with
titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today
wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?
Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,
rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?
Why are they carrying elegant canes
beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the
barbarians are coming today
and things like
that dazzle the barbarians.
Why don't our distinguished orators turn up as usual
to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the
barbarians are coming today
and they're
bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden bewilderment, this confusion?
(How serious people's faces have become.)
Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly,
everyone going home lost in thought?
Because night
has fallen and the barbarians haven't come.
And some of our
men just in from the border say
there are no
barbarians any longer.
Now what's going to happen to us without barbarians?
Those people were a kind of solution.
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