The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel
Page 53
Not even in sleep was the great traveler idle now;
his mind was a swift ship, his sleep a long, long shore 505
where the nightwalker hauled his sails in dreamland’s port.
Behold, he stood on a waste strand where the sea stretched
like boiling lead as the black-clouded, lowering heavens
thundered and flashed above it in a smothering rage,
and in the breathless air between dark heaven and earth 510
a slender trireme skimmed and foamed, a speeding arrow
with swollen sails, self-lighted like a lustrous star.
The suffering man stretched out his hands and cried, “My heart!”
and as his bitter lips spread in a gentle smile
in sleep, his tender smile was caught by Rala’s eye 515
until her own lips dimly smiled in soft reflection.
On the next day Nile told the stranger secretly
how swarms of comrades worked like ant-heaps deep in earth,
how armored ships converged now from far-distant shores:
“It’s time to set the world on fire, to free our hearts, 520
for who knows, friend, what man’s despairing heart can do?”
The archer listened to this latest cry for freedom
and his heart swelled, his restless brain leapt once again—
how many colored wings will the strong mind still sprout,
how many wines must it still drink to change the world? 525
Always man’s soul sprouts unexpected peaks of air!
Now as he heard the new cliff-plungers of the world
the archer tossed his head, brimful of ears and eyes,
and a sharp summit cut the air and raised his stature.
Nile watched him brood in silence as his forehead rose 530
and glowed, as he took time to choose his yes or no,
and marveled at that mind which cut new roads with care.
But Hawkeye shook with rage, his heart would not allow
the soul to weigh its yes or no in times of need,
and opened his mouth wide to vent his noisy wrath, 535
but Scarab clapped his huge hands on those fevered lips:
“Keep quiet! It’s right the soul should judge before it yields.”
Her large eyes filled with longing, anguished Rala gazed
on the archer’s silent lips and prayed in secret thought:
“Dear God, let him say ‘yes’ that he may never leave me!” 540
Slowly Odysseus rose, and in his flashing eyes
a snake allured the watchers in the darkling cell:
“Brothers, my mind has taken measure, talked, begotten,
I’ve heard the wretched poor, I’ve heard the wealthy lords,
I’ve also heard a voice that threads them on one string 545
and hangs them like thick clusters high in empty air.
My memory slowly wakes, my bowels fill with earth,
I see I’m also a mother’s son, of man’s seed made,
but still I don’t know if I love that beast called ‘peasant’
or scorn to live much longer with the lords, their masters; 550
deep in my heart I hold a root not split in two.
Yet I know one thing well—I hear a monstrous cry: 552
it may be all the poor who starve, or my own mind;
it may be God, my brothers, dressed in tattered rags,
because it suits him, who now comes to oust the nobles; 555
it may be only a wind that blows and rasps the reeds.
Whatever it is, I like the voice, it wakes my blood,
and I don’t ask if it’s true or just, and I don’t care,
I hear my heart alone and do what it commands.
Comrades, my heart cries out that I should join you now!” 560
He spoke, and the three friends kept silent a long time;
he seemed at once a good friend and a wide-eyed foe;
what tower could they entrust him with in the fierce struggle?
But then Nile seized his hand, and his mind brimmed with thought:
“You’re welcome on your own terms to our just revolt, 565
whether from love or raging fury or search for God;
the task is huge, each soul will find much work to do,
and when it’s done and each soul tastes its full revenge,
then at the two-forked road we’ll part embraced, my brother.
You still will hunt your God, but we, stooped on the earth, 570
shall struggle on to bring the whole world justice, bread,
and as much freedom as we can to enslaved mankind.”
But the archer heard the workers’ chiefs no longer now;
weary of listening and of talking, his mind smiled
and sank serenely in the gardens of calm sleep 575
till dream, as though it lay in ambush on a high peak,
swooped downward like a sudden hawk and pierced his brain:
A streaming army flashed as toward a dreadful battle,
God like a somber general passed before each friend,
looked deeply in their eyes and chose without compassion, 580
but when God reached the archer, his mind plunged, yet hung
and weighed in a long silence both contrary eyes;
deep in those eyes he spied a fox, a fearless lion,
and a lean arrow-skiff which in the loom of air
wove and unwove gods swiftly with entangling threads. 585
The General seized and held the left-right-handed man:
“O flaming lion-fox, you won’t fight on the right
with my illustrious host, for then your glance turns left,
nor will you strike left at the foe, for then your eyes
with swift and cunning claws swerve sharply toward my host. 590
What shall I do with you to keep your soul from waste?
Go freely back and forth, purveyor to both armies,
drive on, and bear supplies to both battalions then!”
God spoke, and double-faced Odysseus laughed in sleep;
his startled comrades stooped and caught the cunning grin 595
that like a snake uncoiled now from his lips to his thick ears.
When the sun left her, earth disburdened and cooled off,
birds thrust their noisy heads beneath their downy wings,
leaf after leaf embraced in shade, tree linked with tree,
and stars hooked in the hair of night and hung like earrings. 600
With heart-bled sadness, Orpheus spread on the clean deck
the salty bread of beggary on the planks of exile,
and Kentaur sighed until the whole ship came and went:
“When I was born nor ‘oh’ nor ‘ah’ had yet been born!
Orpheus, we’ve lost our golden crown, our wings are clipped, 605
the chief adornment of our skiff, our precious gear,
has gone, dear piper, vanished, and only we still stay;
brave gallantry has fled and only trash remains.”
But skewer-head laughed awkwardly and swallowed hard:
“He’ll wear out seven shrouds, I tell you; don’t forget it! 610
He’s skilled in myriad crafts and even can shoe a flea!
Come to your senses and stop wailing; I have, you know,
a brainy and divining worm between my brows 613
and see the future and foretell all that’s to be:
I hear our songs again, see weapons, ships, and men, 615
we laugh and joke once more till our poor vessel creaks.”
Glutton half-raised his triple-storied body then:
“Say it again, you balding fool; your brain drips honey!
He never was one to shuffle off, his mind’s a hawk,
and Death will spit black blood before he gets him down! 620
Come on, let’s eat and raise our spirits, you’ve made me hungry.”
&n
bsp; They ate, then sailed straight into sleep’s huge open hands
which in their palms hold all we secretly desire.
Meanwhile the tender honey-wakened Pharaoh stretched 624
in his warm bath and listened languidly to slaves 625
who told him of a letter brought by Cypriote envoys.
Whatever the King of Cyprus deigned to write, passed through
the bathing youth’s bored ears now as he stretched and yawned:
“Belovèd brother, good health, good wealth and stintless joy
to your unnumbered sons, your wives, your lords, your weapons! 630
May melted lead pour through your evil spirits’ ears!
My flocks thrive and increase, even my hens lay eggs,
my slaves beget me males, my camels bear me females;
all things go well, and with my envoys now I send
twelve tall, unliftable bronze bars and five huge jugs 635
brimmed with my oldest wine to drink my health, dear brother!
But one gift begs another, so send weavers, please,
to teach my slaves how to adorn and weave fine flax.
I need an exorciser to drive off carrion crows,
and a great god to guard me from the evil eye. 640
I send rich gifts and wait for your rich gifts in turn.” 641
The buxom eunuchs wrapped the written parchment scroll
then bowed and asked their king for his well-bred reply,
but the pale monarch shrugged, half-closed his languid eyes:
“I’m tired; go call my handsome pageboys to come now. 645
I’m very sad today, my lips drip poison still;
spread my gold garments to the stars, for I’ve been praised 647
to death, and like a tree diseased, my mind won’t sprout
a single flower, nor will my bed or life bear fruit.
I’m faint with boredom. Bring me, before I choke with grief, 650
that insolent pair who raised their hands to burn my God.
I want to hear much weeping and refresh my weary mind.”
He spoke, and his black slaves rushed to the dungeon cell
and pushed the pair with haste into the upper world.
Behind Odysseus, as he strode with silent strength, 655
came sharp-browed Rala with the glance of a wild fawn.
They passed the moon-blurred courtyards, shadowed garden plots,
they passed long rows of date palms twined with jasmine vines,
they passed the cool coiled corridors of the women’s rooms
and gazed on opulent and rich adornments there. 660
Poor Rala snorted with contempt and swore with hate,
but the fierce glance of the intriguing man rejoiced,
for life was good, and fragrance good, and women’s breath,
and thus he murmured to himself and hailed the earth:
“Farewell rich gardens, birds, and aromatic blooms, 665
farewell all languid eyelids and firm dexterous hands,
the king now has transfixed us with his murderous eyes!”
But when they neared the warming bath, his bold heart pulsed,
for with his court fools on the bath’s smooth marble slabs
the painted, scented monarch of the world sat jesting. 670
He held his precious waxen plaque, his ivory reed,
and to the gathering read his song with haughty voice:
“I perch in your huge fist, Grandsire, a puny parrot,
my wings are azure smoke, my belly a red rose,
and on my head’s high dome my crown is empty air. 675
I want to praise you, Sire, but you’re a gaping cliff,
I want to chat with you at night before I sleep,
but you grow fierce at once and ask about your thrones,
what’s happened to your armies, where your frontiers stand.
How should I know of frontiers or of charging armies? 680
This world, O Grandfather, is but feathers, wind and dust,
and I’m an azure parrot that flies in bluest air.”
The court fools kicked their caps and bells to the high beams,
the plump pale pageboys giggled shyly, the slaves smiled,
and from a golden cage that hung beneath an arch 685
a tiny parrot awoke and cried out, “Grandpapa!”
The shriveled young king sighed and called his jesters close:
“Fools, art is a heavy task, more heavy than gold crowns;
it’s far more difficult to match firm words than armies,
they’re disciplined troops, unconquered, to be placed in rhythm, 690
the mind’s most mighty foe, and not disperse in air.
I’d give, believe me, a whole land for one good song,
for I know well that only words, that words alone,
like the high mountains, have no fear of age or death,”
Thus talked the scented youth, leant on his pillowed couch, 695
and sighed once more, then gently shut his tear-filled eyes.
Meanwhile the archer by the doorway did not move,
but his mind raced, and the world spun within his head;
perhaps this breathless, fragile seed of kings was right,
perhaps upon this brainless earth, this mad goldfinch, 700
a song may stand more firm in time than brain or bronze.
Ah, had he seven souls, he’d give one to a tender flute
and roam the desolate world and whistle to all winds,
but since he had but one poor soul, he’d never waste it!
Thought swept him up as though the North Wind drove the clouds; 705
the king forgot his cares, jumped up, looked toward the door,
recalled, and as his lips broke in a smile, he turned
toward Rala and with great elaboration mocked:
“Welcome, black eyes! Roses spring up to watch you pass!
O thick lips, eyes of burning coal, O hawk-hooked nose, 710
O vagabond and gypsy heart, O cursèd race
who soil the sacred soil of my revered ancestors!”
Then suddenly the young king shivered and crouched deep
into his swansdown silken cushions, softly sighed,
but soon took heart once more and twined his slender fingers: 715
“I don’t want slaughters to besmirch my freshening bath,
I don’t want warm blood splattered on a tender song.
My road’s the road of milk and honey, I wish you well
and set you free! Whether you will or not, one day
you’ll think of my great kindness and your mind will sweeten. 720
Ah, if the nations of the world would live in peace
under my hawk-grandfather’s heavy widespread wings!
God has created some souls slaves and others free,
some were begotten from God’s brain like sudden thoughts,
some from his biceps sprang, but you, O wretched slave, 725
you’re but the black dust rising from his savage tread!”
Then the king wearied and fell back on his pillowed couch,
and flame-eyed Rala moved her flashing lips with wrath:
“I’m not your grandfather’s biceps, nor his mind or dust,
and I acknowledge but one God—man’s own free mind, 730
that small, coiled, poisonous scorpion with its threatening tail!”
The king turned pale, for her voice struck and pierced his heart:
“I understand full well your two-tongued snaky mind!
Seize her and bind her fast! She’s cast a noose about my throat!”
Then from the doorway the sly man moved with great calm 735
and played with Death, a withered apple which he threw
within his mind toward the blue sky then swiftly caught,
and joyed because all his ten fingers smelled of apple.
The Pharaoh raised his weary eyes, and his fac
e paled:
“Who are you, savage sea-cap, that approach in silence? 74
Your eyes are like dark prowling beasts in which I see
a dreadful message sent by many-tholed sea-demons.”
Then the star-minded man, who would not deign as yet
to wall about his seething mind with clear-cut words,
grew light of heart on hearing what the young king guessed. 745
The seed fell in his mind, sprang to a fruitful tree,
for a new myth had sprouted in his fertile brain:
“I rush from frothing seas and bear disastrous news!
Our sons are countless, and our lands can’t hold us now.
‘Dear mother, wine!’ the young men shout. ‘Bread!’ shout our daughters. 75
‘Mother, let’s swiftly go to the lord king of earth!’
With babies on our backs, with axes in our hands,
we mount the cold North Wind and knock on your bronze doors.
Master, give us your sacred head in place of alms!”
The king screeched like a bird and on his eunuchs leant: 755
“I’ve never killed, I’ve never stolen, I’ve not done evil!
My forefathers warred and slaughtered people ruthlessly
yet passed through earth most happy, swept toward Hades then,
and neither gods nor men spoke them a scurrilous word.
And I, who am good and preach of love throughout the world 760
and rule the earth not by the sword but a light feather,
must pay their ancient crimes! This is not just, my Lord!”
But the unsoftened archer felt no calm compassion:
surely the grandson now should pay the grandsire’s crimes,
each leaf drinks from the same root of man’s tribal tree, 765
and thus he cruelly blazoned his deceiving myth:
“I am a great newsbringer and proclaim my news:
On a far, famous island I saw castles blaze,
I saw, on high snow-covered mountains, blue-eyed dragons
who felled huge trees and swiftly set their full sails south. 77
I’ve seen by desert wells long camel caravans
and young men waiting upright under heaven’s road
for the sharp crescent moon to rise that they might go.
I cry out in all towns and thunder in all cities:
‘Eh, landlords, quickly double-bolt your cellar doors! 775
Hey, misers, thrust your moneybags deep in the earth!
I beat and pummel your dark doors in the wild night;
eat till you burst, go kiss your wives for the last time!’
I see a sword, O king, that swings above your head!”
He spoke, and from his bosom drew a lumpish dwarf, 780