The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

by Nikos Kazantzakis

  “I’m not one person now, huge armies surge behind me,

  black, yellow, and white men, and I run on ahead 760

  while a fierce bird with crimson claws stabs through my brain.”

  Thus thought the many-minded man as his skull swelled

  and his throat strove to cry out sweetly, “Brothers, brothers!”

  but he was suddenly startled and stepped back with fear,

  for the cave’s azure darkness flashed with streaks of flame, 765

  with many-colored wings, moist nostrils, sword-sharp horns,

  and his cowed leopard cub crouched at her master’s feet;

  all quivering beasts crawled speechlessly and shook with fright

  as by a mute invisible hunter pushed and probed.

  They longed to speak a brotherly word, but their thick brains 770

  turned mud and tumbled in their crude impounded skulls.

  Never had the much-suffering man felt such huge sorrow,

  for the beasts’ groans were heavy in the azure air;

  he opened his arms wide and cried, “Welcome, my brothers!”

  He rose, and all at once a warbling joy swept through him, 775

  his brain turned to dense forests, his veins to swift streams,

  and all his skull brimmed over with horns, tails, and wings.

  The coral coils of his head swirled, the world rushed on,

  and like a wealthy lord who in his tower, erect,

  receives his ancient warriors and his faithful friends, 780

  thus did the wandering man hail all the beasts with awe:

  “Welcome to my dark head, to my tall brazen tower,

  fierce fighters, comrades, kings of earth! Make way! Make way!

  Leviathan now, our great primeval forefather comes

  with his stooped heavy head a mass of mud and brains. 785

  O great grandfather, I stretch to kiss your rough rude knees.

  Tall fortress, mountain undefiled, I hear you thrash

  like a wild sea beneath your cracked and wrinkled hide.

  O tall tomb, wrathful horns, hides, flesh, and rank manure,

  you trample on the newborn soul’s wet fledgling wings 790

  that smother and strive hopelessly to lift your weight.

  I am your fortunate soul that from your heavy thighs,

  your deep dark castle doors, dashed into light to play.

  Look at my brows and eyes, Grandfather—don’t you know me?

  Night-prowling ancient ghost, deaf ears, glazed eyes, mute mouth, 795

  you stoop to earth and you don’t know your grandson still!

  Make way for him to see! May his dim memory blaze!”

  Odysseus cried, stepped back for his great grandfather to leave,

  then opened his arms wide, stooped low and hailed his father:

  “Hail to our king, O Ape with future golden crown, 800

  with your vermilion fat behind, a king’s red robes!

  Joy to that father who sees his son and thinks in secret:

  ‘I’m but a beast. What shame to walk or talk with him!

  My mind’s a lump of blood and fur—what can I say?

  I’ll gape at him from the dark woods as he goes by.’ 805

  Father, behind the trees, deep in the hollow trunks,

  I see your much-tormented and much-honored face.

  Ah, father, raise your head on high, don’t be ashamed,

  upon this savage earth you have fulfilled your old

  parental strife with patience, hunger, groans and fears; 810

  now raise your sad eyes proudly, marvel at your great son:

  I am that dream which clove like lightning your dark brain.”

  He spoke, and the poor ape, with coarse and furrowed nails

  clawed at his shaggy head, and his eyes glazed as though

  he struggled to recall, to hear and see his son. 815

  Then Mother Earth’s last great accomplishment turned round

  to greet with joyous homage his most humble forebears:

  “I greet that great ascetic, the low black-browed beetle.

  O sacred, seven-souled, and stubborn drudge of God,

  you slave all day and roll your lump of dung on earth, 820

  you fall, then rise and grasp it tightly, fall again,

  rise up, grasp it once more and start the steep ascent.

  Back! Let him pass, my brothers! He, too, is a great god!

  Thus, I suppose, a monstrous scarab shoves with grit

  the green dung-sphere of earth and rolls it up the sky 825

  and to that muddy ball entrusts her sacred eggs.

  Welcome a thousand times, mute brother, faithful drudge!

  Welcome, O handsome weasel, fur-skinned civet cat,

  welcome, O hedgehog, marten, squirrel, and faithful dog.

  And welcome, ox, sacred to earth, with your large eyes, 830

  your hooves still muddy from the heavy toil of day,

  your nape still bloody from the rough yoke’s stooping weight;

  you wake at daybreak, plod to your dark stable door,

  and like a husband watching his still pregnant wife

  you gaze on the far fields with holy patient strength 835

  and in the fat coils of your muddy brains declare:

  There’s still much work to do. Master, awake, it’s dawn!’

  Slowly you stretch your scabbed, scruffed neck to moo,

  and the young master, waking, turns to embrace his wife:

  ‘My ox have woken, sweet; it’s dawn, and I must leave you.’ 840

  Swiftly he leaps and comes to your warm fragrant stall,

  gropes at your hooves and belly with fast-beating heart

  for fear the evil eye has pierced or gadfly stung you,

  but when he listens to your heart, his fears grow calm.

  He fills your empty trough with feed and gossips on, 845

  chatting about his work, his orders, his advice,

  and you, my brother, listen and slowly chew your cud

  without a sound; you know how much these upright beasts

  like to talk on and on, although they wield the goad;

  you slowly turn and mutely watch the sleeping world, 850

  the eyes filled only with untilled or furrowed fields.

  Brother, stoop down, enter my brain, shake off the yoke,

  the ripe fields of your master’s mind are but green air,

  your yoke’s an azure shade, your plowman is but smoke,

  welcome a thousand times to my head’s warming stall! 855

  Welcome to wolves and sheep, to lions and shying fawns;

  brothers, there’s no more enmity in my mind. Be friends!

  It’s time for all to merge now in this holy fold.”

  He spoke, then grouped his shaggy brothers row on row,

  and when he’d finished welcoming his myriad beasts, 860

  the many-souled man turned and hailed the feathery fowl:

  “Welcome to all warm flying forms, the thoughts of air!

  Dear God, when I lie stretched on earth and gaze on high

  I feel the blue sky’s holy dome like a vast skull

  through which cross-eagles soar, crimson and gold birds dart, 865

  and when at times their beaks drip blood or their throats pour

  with sweet lamenting tunes, then my heart floods with love.

  Brothers, I’m like you also, for I have hidden wings,

  I grow with the wild hawks and dance with the swift gulls,

  the wild North Wind’s the goatherd of my airy flocks 870

  and dashing South Wind is my faithful shepherd’s dog.

  But night has fallen, the aery chase has ended now,

  so welcome, brothers, to my parental sheltering roof.

  Welcome to wasp and hornet, cricket, flea, and fly!

  Welcome, O thousand-egged, much-pregnant Lady Ant; 875

  you drag yourself like a Great Dame, wingle
ss and full,

  your belly brimming with unnumbered seething eggs.

  Good was the sudden fluttering in the warming air,

  your body small and swelling, your wings opening wide,

  your bridegrooms fast behind you with their stings raised high. 880

  Some rolled expiring on the earth, and some held back

  their strength, nor would expend it, God, but soared and watched

  your glowing belly shine in the high blinding light.

  I am the bridegroom ant, the bride, and the blue sky!

  It lasted but a lightning flash in your dark loins, 885

  and wingless now, you crawl on earth, remembering nothing,

  but I still fly and couple in my brain immutably,

  my bridal wings still shed, still spread upon the earth,

  nor does time pass but that I take him for my groom.

  Ah, my poor heart is torn, my entrails gape and shut, 890

  and I submit my body to God’s quartering winds,

  a flowering almond branch plundered by honeybees.

  Come all my long-lost exiled brothers, beasts and birds,

  the middle wall falls crashing, the heart opens, welcome!”

  Thus did the suffering man hold all earth in his hands 895

  but could not bear the pain or joy, and his eyes brimmed.

  O tears, O cool, most guileless good of solitude!

  He felt the full warm breast of life touch his own breast,

  he felt her heavy breath, her sweetness, her deep musk:

  “O Lord, beast that I chase with longing, bird I hunt, 900

  how may I lodge you in that cave, my mind, for I

  have no swift ship to fetch you through the stormy seas

  nor a white horse to bring you galloping down the fields,

  your long hair washed with dew and smelling of wild thyme.

  I hold no taut bow in my hands to shoot you now 905

  but place my heart on the green grass, huge honey-drop

  that slowly melts in your great heat and calmly waits.

  Come buzzing down, O Honeybee, come drain me dry!”

  The hunter shouted loudly through his mind’s ravines,

  an unexpected sweetness calmed his weary heart 910

  and he leant on night’s cornerstone, the rock of dream.

  He felt the beasts breathe in his breast, huge herds that pressed

  with longing round his heart and licked his open palms

  as though he held a white lump in his hands and fed them salt.

  Night passed with all her marvels, slowly, endlessly, 915

  earth filled with scent and coolness, tranquil drops of rain

  splattered her flaming face, the stones laughed low and long,

  and azure lightning flashes lit the mountaintops.

  A plowman stretched his hands over his fields with joy,

  in the world’s dark foundations the dead glowed like roots, 920

  and seeds kicked deep in Mother Earth like embryos.

  The erotic spring rains steamed, earth trembled and cracked open,

  the river fishes swam toward the salt sea to spawn

  and others swam to find sweet water to lay their eggs.

  In Crete the wine casks were prepared for the wine’s must, 925

  were washed, rewashed, splashed with warm water to close the seams,

  and the South Wind got drunk from smelling the rank must.

  In far-off temples, stern ascetics robed in yellow

  shuddered when the first raindrops fell, then in their courts

  all raised their trembling hands to the frenetic clouds 930

  with wailing cries and groaned out all their sins and crimes.

  Within his sleep the suffering man then dreamt of cranes,

  and as his broad lips stretched into a tranquil smile,

  his mind rose like a stork and stood in its dark nest.

  The pelting night rain fell and clattered on the stones, 935

  the waters branched in rills and dashed from crag to crag,

  the sky sank glowering on the earth, and clouds like hair

  hung down caressing her with long and wormy strands.

  In the black cave small insects quivered, wild beasts growled,

  birds gathered their wet wings, and all together crawled 940

  in the dream-voyaged body of their soul-guiding master.

  They thrust in his deep armpits, twined in his gray beard,

  until in sleep his flesh turned mist, like clouds, absorbed

  huge flocks of birds and insects as he turned all wing.

  Like a cave’s arched deep entrance, his great forehead gaped 945

  and there all rain-drenched creatures crouched in fellowship,

  sweet rubies nestling in the mind’s huge pomegranate.

  Sleep had refreshed the lone man, dreams had healed his wound,

  good were the night’s seductions, good the cool night rains,

  and when he woke his wild lips dripped with honey still. 950

  Day broke, he jumped up and stood still by his cave’s door;

  clusters of tepid raindrops struck with slanting force

  his brows, his hands, his neck till, shivering, he rejoiced

  to feel the fragrant first rains on his sun-scorched flesh.

  His thirsty leopard cub was licking the drenched stones, 955

  her yellow eyes gleamed as she watched her lustrous friend

  stand by the tranquil entrance watching on far peaks

  how God’s huge body spread to slake its heavy thirst.

  God’s feet had sunk in mud, his beard had turned to streams

  and rolled in foam down deep ravines, his wide mouth steamed, 960

  and turtles, snails, and insects ran with quivering haste

  and thrust themselves into his armpits and dank hair.

  “Ah, you’ve enjoyed the cloudburst on your body, God!”

  the lone man cried in rapture as his heart grew sweet.

  Slowly the weather cleared, the sun appeared and smiled 965

  till on God’s watery lashes raindrops laughed, a huge

  bright rainbow stretched and zoned his glittering hair

  so that he sank serenely in a mute unuttered joy.

  Then in the heavy silence, secret coupling cries

  of a sad man and lustful woman shook his breast 970

  until he stooped and listened to his female heart:

  “I looked for you to come on lightning wings, my love,

  to smash my door at midnight and to sweep me off

  that I might fall down trembling at your holy feet.

  But you, dear God, are calm and sweet like a man’s flesh, 975

  and blue waves and green meadows play within your eyes.

  Earth’s fragrance almost choked me when you came, my Love,

  and my black entrails blazed up like a mortal’s hearth;

  now I entrust my trembling palm to your kind hands

  for you are good, like a mere man, and quake, like me.” 980

  A heavy voice was heard then like a bellowing beast’s:

  “Who wakes me from my sleep and lifts me from the ground?

  I slept well, motionless, amid the roots of trees,

  I enjoyed the downy darkness in the loins of beasts;

  who called and lit my turbid dream so that it vanished?” 985

  “It’s I who called, man’s female heart! Come out, my love!

  I’m but a river reed and call you like a throat,

  I can become a roof, or rot in desolation.

  Ah, glean me, Lord! Make me a flute on your sweet lips!”

  “O clay heart, deep jug of a deathless bitter water!” 990

  “Love, do you weep? I never hoped for such great joy.”

  Then like a flute the voice sang bitterly in the breast:

  “I’m not that god who like a bridegroom breaks the bolt

  and enters lightly in his loved one’s
house at midnight.

  I only know a blood-drenched and beast-breathing love 995

  that eats my entrails like a black and famished crow.

  Don’t call me! I pity your virginity, my child!”

  But her breast’s open rose allured the lover still:

  “My own, come rest your body gently on my knees.

  We two shall shape the world with love and stubbornness, 1000

  a new bride’s piercing pain threshes my tender breast.”

  Thus did the heart tremble, beat the ground and call on God

  till earth with spring rains burst and in the sun there sprang

  a firm-fleshed gallant youth, covered with mud and wounds,

  so that the woman cried and spread her smoldering arms: 1005

  “O manly body, sturdy, lean, with firm round grapes,

  my trembling knees have melted sweetly in your shade.”

  “O mortal heart, you called! I’ve sprung from the dark soil!

  Our humble hut is ready and awaits us now.

  Come, for the holy smoke will rise from our hut’s roof, 1010

  our trough will brim with bread, our cradle with plump babes.

  O heart, Death has no fears for me since first you called!”

  The woman’s deathless tune was heard in warbling song:

  “I shall be with you, Love, in wars, in joys, in cares.

  At noontime as you till the field I’ll bring your food, 1015

  the jug of cooling water, under the plane tree’s shade;

  at dusk you’ll find our oil lamp glowing on the hearth

  and all of night’s sweet hopes upon my fruitful breast.”

  The young man’s muddy chest resounded with delight:

  “Dear wife, my brooding heart blooms like a tree again, 1020

  the couple on the earth alone renews the world!

  Leaves fall like people, empty flowers droop and die,

  but the tall tree of life casts deep gigantic roots

  and in bad seasons one bloom still adorns its tip,

  fights off the powers of the worm, the wind, the storm, 1025

  and won’t give up the fruit it holds clenched in its teeth.

  Hold fast, O heart, dear wife, for I’ve no other hope!”

  The hour hung heavily and was slow to fall to earth;

  Odysseus heard both cries, as though from the world’s rim,

  then leant his chest above the abyss and shuddered deeply 1030

  to hear how someone climbed his guts with stubborn groans,

  something both beast and man that trod a bloodstained road.

  “Who are you, virile voice? Pirate, what is your name?”

  “I am that dark beast, God, who mounts eternally.”