RESTRICTED: Farewell

updated 06/16/1994 AT 01:00 AM EDT

originally published 06/16/1994 AT 01:00 AM EDT

In a moving tribute, Maurice Tempelsman, Jackie's last love, read Ithaka by modern Greek poet C.P. Cavafy at her funeral in New York City's St. Ignatius Loyola church.

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—-don't be afraid of them:
you 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 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 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.

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