The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

by Nikos Kazantzakis

  But now I liken your full mind to those rich lords

  who soon as they return from plundering, seek new roads,

  take in their towers their armies with their families, too, 1330

  spread feasting boards for them to gorge on, fields to play,

  then with great cunning cram them full of wine and food

  that the brave lads might grow into lean meat for war

  and make themselves a crow-god that will gnaw their guts.”

  Potbellied glutton laughed and grabbed the piper’s nape; 1335

  “By God, not a drop of wine has reached your belly, it’s all

  leapt high to your bald pate and turned to brain and wisdom!

  You’ve set all things in a neat row, in shipshape style,

  but this is the main point: our heart-seducer here

  takes all things in one ear then spouts, them out the other!” 1340

  But the light-blooded songster’s mind could not be changed:

  “Now look who’s talking! Our master perks up both his ears,

  drags all he hears to his sly mind and makes them God—

  thunderous flashes, hollow words, and the wind’s whistling!”

  As the friends talked, Odysseus mulled in silent thought: 1345

  “These two say ‘God,’ and their minds stop and go no further,

  but I set secret sail and bear off on my ship

  the newest siren, God, and sail on the waste seas.”

  The lone man stooped, untied the hawser and rigged sail:

  “Words swarm like fishes in the sea, but learn, my brothers, 1350

  God is not shaped with meat or the air’s false pregnancy

  but with the savage daily sweat of wretched man.”

  They plied their oars then, and the sluggish river rolled

  and spread its fertile mud upon the thirsting earth.

  The sun leapt up, poured light on earth, the workers woke, 1355

  women and children wept, helped men prepare for war,

  fetched cedar for returning, cornel boughs for strength,

  and wives and husbands clasped as though they’d never part.

  They all drank wine till their minds flushed, then the brave lads 1359

  set forth with red strings round their throats, and in the lead 1360

  King Sunless dashed, entwined in cobwebs, pale and sad. 1361

  Pharaoh turned hoarse with shouting at both gods and men,

  then took his soft spear once again, his pointed reed,

  smoothed his wax tablets with his hand, rubbed out his song

  till from his slender backbone a new poem rose. 1365

  Now in his peril the whole world sprang in his breast

  like the last light that plays on mountain peaks at dusk,

  and all at once his slender reed took wing, and flew:

  “Life is but air, mist, dream, a dew on the wet ground,

  and War a flaming cloud with harsh hail impregnated, 1370

  an evening ship of air that sails with tranquil calm

  on the tall heads of men and the round breasts of women.

  And I’m but air, mist, dream, and the black sun shall come

  and that black rooster, Death, shall crow, and I shall vanish too.”

  The sun, like a skin head, rolled slowly down the sands, 1375

  deep azure mists rose thickly by the river’s edge,

  and the light vanished sadly on the yellow banks.

  The star-grains brimmed on the black fields, and the vast sky

  like full-winged mills began to grind in the grim darkness.

  Wild fawns slunk to their water-holes with quivering hearts, 1380

  the famished jackal dug among the poor men’s tombs,

  and night-gods calmly wrapped in fresh vine leaves all boys

  who had just died, then crouched to eat them on the sands.

  A beautiful Egyptian princess had died that day

  then lightly walked along the riverbank at night 1385

  and stooped to hide her rotted face from her dear friends;

  Night with her aromatic armpits drifted past,

  an immature most tender light bloomed on the fields,

  till dawn, an awkward calf, came stumbling down the banks.

  The three friends followed the rose-lidded river’s flow, 1390

  white birds that shed a lustrous light passed over them,

  the fishes in the waters frisked, and on the sands

  villages crackled, burned, and maidens tore their hair.

  The archer’s brain breathed deeply the cool springtime breath

  of Death with all its sweet and dizzying spells, unslaked, 1395

  as though he smelled night-jasmine in his gloaming garden.

  His mind spun, all the boundaries of the world were lost

  as though he’d gone amid his old acquaintances,

  green fields and mountains, to hunt deer with his long bow

  and all had suddenly changed, as in a drunken mist; 1400

  his murderous bow had budded like an oak-holm branch

  and deer approached it without fear and browsed on its green leaves.

  XI

  Hlow well, dear God, do young men sniff a woman’s odor,

  apples of strange lands, or a widowed country’s pillow!

  Mother, a warm breeze blows, and home can’t hold me now,

  dear Mother, birds with women’s breasts fly from the south

  and hold thin letters in their claws, and bring sweet news; 5

  a widow, peppery widow bathes in a large river,

  Mother, she stretches on hot sands and her joints creak,

  she gazes on the wastes and sighs, looks on her breasts,

  unsucked, like shriveled apples, and sends messengers,

  Mother, of warming winds and birds and bitten apples. 10

  Mother, my youth is smothering me, I’ll wear my weapons—

  sweet musk about my waist, and love songs on my lips,

  and join that peppery widow with my body full of flames.”

  As bridegrooms round the queen bee buzz in clustering swarms,

  cluster by cluster young men swarmed round widow Egypt. 15

  Riverbanks shook with tumult, highways creaked and cracked,

  the desert’s loins caught fire and her thighs prepared

  for strong erotic wrestling on her ready sands;

  first skirmishes had now begun, the first lovebites,

  the first, first wild caresses to arouse desire. 20

  They pitched their tall tents on the plundered widow’s lap

  and her first cries rang out, quivering with fear and lust.

  Slave girls were lined in the cool shade and shared by youths

  who felt their breasts and loins, tested their teeth, then chose:

  this one was good for fieldwork, that one for kneading bread, 25

  this one for bed at night, that one for grinding grain.

  With “I want this one” and “You take that,” their blood soon raged

  until they grabbed their swords, poured on the threshing floors,

  and soon earth’s entrails grew appeased, engorged with men.

  Horsemen dashed by with conches, infantry marched with drums, 30

  and gasping bleating flocks of men trotted like sheep;

  house-roofs gaped open, triple-bellied brazen caldrons

  seethed full of hogs and horses over fierce bonfires,

  and the barbarians grabbed and gulped all, still unboiled,

  until from their blond beards the grease dripped drop by drop. 35

  The nostrils of the many-minded archer flared;

  the poor had everywhere increased, war grew and swelled,

  archons decayed, their roots hung loose in empty air,

  till there remained but the mind’s frail and shriveled flower

  for it no longer sucked the gut’s deep fertile dark: 40

  A thousand welcomes to all youth and t
heir firm buds!

  God’s cunning herald and his two most stanch defenders,

  the double-buttocked athlete and the air-brained piper,

  dashed in the battle’s midst, blew on their shells and shrilled:

  “Brothers, perk up your ears, hear what your heralds cry: 45

  within our grasping hands we hold all Egypt now!

  Who longs for hogs or horses, who for fecund maids,

  who wants fistfuls of gold or towers of thick pearls,

  ahoy, let him flail Egypt now! First come, first served!”

  The blond braves heard the conches and leapt up, aroused, 50

  their women gathered close with babes slung on their backs,

  others rode naked on their steeds, some on young calves,

  and their war-strengthened bodies gleamed in the hot sun.

  Their barbarous youth struck at the archer’s brain like wine:

  lean codgers, hard-knit knees, coarse brains which had not been 55

  as yet worm-eaten by knowledge nor licked clean by thought;

  their guts were thick pine woods uneaten still by grubs,

  O Earth, mother of swarming children, thick dense grove,

  what have your eyes not seen or your clay ears not heard!

  Wonders on wonders, lives on lives pass through you, Mother, 60

  unnumbered wombs lie in your body, seeds in your loins,

  and you beget great gods and beasts, just as you like,

  and hatch your varied brood of eggs in the blank sun.

  For hours he marveled at that spurting water, youth,

  and when his eyes were slaked, from his deceiving mouth 65

  his strong words struck the blond-haired youths from brow to brow:

  “Why camp in ragged tents upon the desert, fools!

  Jump on your horses, comrades, and gallop further down:

  their three-floored cellars drown with grain, their gardens bloom,

  their women sail like shapely frigates in the sun 70

  and press their ears to earth, longing to hear your steeds

  snorting with lust, your axes smashing down their doors!

  Their males are drained and worthless, all their gods are senile!

  Workers and wretched poor have sent me here to say

  that all the archons’ women and their plump curled boys, 75

  all the bright gems they wear, the silver, the gold, are yours;

  and when you’re slaked with slaughter and lust, and your mind clears,

  we’ll share the spoils of earth together, half and half!”

  He spoke, and the barbarians howled and clashed their shields:

  “Yes, by our iron god, we swear: half yours, half ours! 80

  Lead on, show us the way, great is our conquering god;

  he sits enthroned in a thick reed and burns the world,

  oho, he starves, and smells man’s meat on every side!”

  Their stalwart bodies swayed in air like blazing fires,

  but that great mind, the archer, held the scales of fate 85

  and harmonized the frenzied storm to ordered calm:

  “Now let this holy night fall on our flesh and bones,

  she knows all things, illuminates the thoughts of men,

  and with his ax our god will cut new paths at dawn.”

  He spoke. Bold chiefs assembled of a strong nymph-race, 90

  beastlike young men who smelled like shaggy buffaloes,

  gigantic codgers tall as the snow-covered hills,

  and all held council near the water’s murmuring stream

  and planned and plotted with great cunning till the dim stars rose.

  Night shone and laughed with all her wealth, black-eyed and bright, 95

  the South Wind blew, the date palms moaned and flapped their wings,

  and the green glowing moon swam up the milky sky.

  Between his two old friends Odysseus stood and gazed

  with wonder at the crescent moon like a sharp scythe

  that threshed the ripe heads swaying in the silver fields. 100

  Glutton had eaten and drunk well with his new friends

  and now a dark foreboding crushed his wine-soaked heart

  till like a melancholy bull he groaned and sighed:

  “The things I’ve loved most in this world are piebald studs,

  women who bear their children well, a swift proud ship, 105

  but best of all I’ve loved with an unsated pride

  that downy gallant lad who buckles on his weapons;

  good is the sperm of man, and blessed a woman’s womb!”

  He spoke, and tears without much cause streamed down his cheeks.

  But then the piper sighed in mimicry and mocked him: 110

  “The things I’ve loved most in this world are stout wine-kegs,

  loin-laden sows with all their holy grease and pork,

  and that fat downy stinking skunk we all call woman,

  but best of all I love fat-ass when birth-pangs seize him!”

  The king of cunning men then reached and seized both heads: 115

  “Fellows, the thing I’ve loved best in this cozening world

  is that most crafty myth, man’s own deceiving mind

  which ties a thin red string about the world’s round reel

  then with a kick unwinds and sets the great myth spinning!”

  Broad-bottomed glutton wryly laughed and spun his yarn: 120

  “Ah, fellows, once upon a time—and that’s the low-down truth—

  seven ripsnorters, seven roaring boys set out

  but split apart in traveling, two by two paired off

  till only three remained and glowed beneath the moon—

  that is, till winds should blow and knock down two more men!” 125

  Odysseus laughed and grabbed his old friend by the arm:

  “Good going! Though your mills grind slow, they make fine flour!

  It’s clear to see you’re right, for we shall part one day.

  Don’t fret! That’s how things are. There is no cure on earth,

  the Wheel spins on, and now not even God can stop it. 130

  Forget it, splayfoot! Kick it behind you! Let it plunge!

  Quit digging your brain so; it doesn’t suit you, friend.

  Hood both your eyes and blot all out, and a good waking!

  Sleep is a god that heals the heart which waking wounds.”

  He spoke, and the two swiftly gave their souls to sleep 135

  as through wide-open doors the dreams like peacocks strolled;

  but that free bird, their master’s mind, flew sleeplessly

  because it seemed a heavy task to cleanse wild blood

  or put some sense in the many-headed rushing storm.

  But this task suited well his double-purposed soul; 140

  he smiled, and thought that when he’d reach the lower world

  and the black monarch of that land perhaps should ask him

  what work he did in the upper world, what goal pursued,

  his fleshless jaws would grin with laughter and croak out:

  “Monarch of earth, I shall confess my secret craft: 145

  I’ve always fought to purify wild flame to light,

  and kindle whatever light I found to burst in flame.”

  Thus did he speak with dread Lord Death, Destroyer of Pain,

  and then, unruffled, slowly passed sleep’s dim frontier

  and took the azure shadowy paths of plunging cliffs. 150

  As he half-shut his eyes, that night-bird, the horned owl

  with its effulgent spheres of orbed and golden light

  was heard in sad lament along the moist South Wind:

  “Bodies once more are heaped on earth, reapers once more

  come casting man-seed to be ground in Hades’ mills. 155

  Oho, mole-miller, rise at dawn, start the great grinding!

  There’s much to grind, and the jaws of both millstones brim,<
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  the blind mice at your feet now eat and dance with joy,

  and seven rivers of worms roll toward the dark flour bins.

  Alas for black-eyed maids who forget in a man’s arms 160

  and in nine months beget their sons on the mill’s floor!

  Alas for all small sisters and for wretched mothers;

  I wait for dawn and hold five different kinds of poison,

  the ravaging bitter rue and the dry chicory flower,”

  But their dull brains misheard that mournful voice in sleep 165

  and thought a nightingale had perched on flowering boughs

  and warbled in a most sweet voice till all, entranced,

  heard love’s song only and were borne to a moist, windless peace.

  The crow sang like a nightingale to drowsy brains,

  night softly passed swathed in a kerchief of deep black, 170

  deep midnight crossed its zenith, and when stars grew dim

  a crimson cockscomb slowly rose from glowing sands.

  At the day’s spring the archer’s mind leapt like a cock,

  horses around him wakened, and tent flaps disgorged

  unshom barbaric men, young women with coarse braids; 175

  fierce weapons clashed, fires blazed up and caldrons steamed.

  The sun rose like a drunken lord, red-faced and flushed,

  stumbling and staggering up the clouds, and his glazed eyes

  rolled steaming round brave youths who challenged him to fight;

  the night-bird hid in silence in a hollow tree. 180

  “Our lord and master wakes now in deep pits of blood,”

  murmured the suffering man, and gazed straight at the sun.

  As with a faint smile on his lips he watched his mind

  opening its tail once more within him like a peacock,

  he hovered in indecision long and took great joy 185

  in mankind’s freedom as in a sweet secret thrill.

  But as his soul frisked like a bird in the dawn’s light,

  he saw a hoof-worn weary stallion galloping near

  on which tall Granite sat astride, urged it with haste,

  and led thick herds of oxen, maidens, and young men. 190

  With shining shield and spear and with tall waving plumes

  he loomed by sunrise clouds and sang in a high voice,

  but when he suddenly saw his eagle-eyed old master

  tall on the bank, the lustrous sounds choked in his throat;

  he checked his horse, leapt on the sand, and step by step 195

  slowly approached and reached his hand to touch the dream.

  The seven-souled man laughed and also reached his hand: