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. [...]

Two roads passed my father’s house They went everywhere, with tolls Unfixed on unmarked distances Paved with roses and thorns. He said a few things When I was packed to go; The feel of your feet Will reconcile the differences Of which road you take. There will be signposts along the way Giving out devious directions. It’s your right to question them. But don’t ignore them. Each one is meant for something.

You will find that summer grass underfoot will be kinder To your touch than autumnal weeds Yet, during winter storms, It will be the taller stalks Leaning above the snow That will catch your eye.

And you will learn that All the same things Are not really the same, that You must select your friends With the same care I gave To choosing your mother, or Maybe the wood to build fences. Avoid things that die too easily And get your own soul ready to die well.

Don’t get gray by yourself, And don’t be surprised When as you grow older You begin to pray more And worry less. Remember most that everything I have told you might very well amount to everything Or Perhaps nothing. But be most thankful, son, If in autumn you can still manage a smile.

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