Losing My Ithaca/Ethica

The Original Ithaca by Constantine P. Cavafy

Once upon a time I stumbled upon an Ithaca

Like butterflies, I flew in the air searching for a temptous nectar

I set out on a land where Ithaca was far and near like a shooting star

Cut the miles, trooped its length and width, till I reached

God knows how hard I shook it, till all doors had flung open before me

I felt the rush of the Atlantic had sworn to off the face of the earth wipe my existence

Even though I was forced by the mighty gravity to the deepest depth of the blue

I miraculously surfaced my glooms

Bitter taste of victory whirled in my world like a dizzying dance of a whirling dervish

I crumbled in my own temple of Ithacas

Woke up to a festival of crumbled ones

Losing ithica, after ithaca

So many seeping through my tightest slots of patience

As a nail crowns your finger, Ithaca covers me

I preach it in my poetic salon

Enchanted other heretics seem to be by my desperate delusions

In a world Ithacas are benevolent works of divinities

I am haunted by my fear of my fear

Who could be more helpless than a running deer from the monster’s claws

Only a human

With too little strength to die for an Ithaca, with an Ithaca, like an Ithaca

 

 

 

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Once upon a time I stumbled upon an Ithaca

Like butterflies, I flew in the air searching for a temptous nectar

I set out on a land where Ithaca was far and near like a shooting star

Cut the miles, trooped its length and width, till I reached

God knows how hard I shook it, till all doors had flung open before me

I felt the rush of the Atlantic had sworn to off the face of the earth wipe my existence

Even though I was forced by the mighty gravity to the deepest depth of the blue

I miraculously surfaced my glooms

Bitter taste of victory whirled in my world like a dizzying dance of a whirling dervish

I crumbled in my own temple of Ithacas

Woke up to a festival of crumbled ones

Losing ithica, after ithaca

So many seeping through my tightest slots of patience

As a nail crowns your finger, Ithaca covers me

I preach it in my poetic salon

Enchanted other heretics seem to be by my desperate delusions

In a world Ithacas are benevolent works of divinities

I am haunted by my fear of my fear

Who could be more helpless than a running deer from the monster’s claws

Only a human

With too little strength to die for an Ithaca, with an Ithaca, like an Ithaca

Inspired by the original Ithaca by Constantine P. Cavafy