The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel
Page 75
“Though I stoop low in darkness, I can’t discern your face. 1035
You seem a savage centaur with broad shaggy rumps,
I see your hands held high in light, your knees in mud,
you stretch your loins like a longbow, and then squirm through
your crushing body’s weight, your soul clenched in your teeth!
What hunter so pursues you that you gasp and groan?” 1040
“I climb my own dark body, Son, to keep from stifling.
Trees and beasts smother me, and your flesh chokes me, too;
I fight to flee you, not even your soul can hold me now.
Help me, my son, that from your mute and muddy flesh,
from your constraining soul, I might at length fly free. 1045
Ah, what if I’m now too late and perish with you on earth?”
“I won’t have God, my warrior, trembling in my heart!”
“But I’m afraid! I see no end to this dark climb!
I plod, I stumble and stagger in all flesh, I shout!
Each lovely body is a lime twig—I can’t fly free! 1050
Each soul is a dark forest where beasts eat me whole!
Help me, my son! I’m caught in your dark loins! I groan!”
“Don’t groan, it’s shameful, and the timid souls may hear;
whisper your fears to me alone in the dark of night;
we two shall hide between us the world’s jeopardy. 1055
I like despair and stubbornness, I scorn my flesh,
and like a fisherman who grabs an oyster shell
and with his twisting knife unseals the solid pearl,
thus with my sword I’ll free you from grim Death, my Lord!”
He spoke, then seized his bow and arrows to hunt for game; 1060
it wouldn’t do to have his entrails shake with hunger,
for God had need now of firm flesh to clutch and keep from falling.
The wheel of earth within him turned, and his god glowed
nor seemed a mighty beast now nor almighty foe
to break a lance with on the earthen threshing floor, 1065
nor yet a bridegroom to merge sweetly with man’s heart.
All bodies and all souls cried out, “We’re lost!” Two hands,
the hands of God, stretched toward the light and shook with fear.
Then the much-suffering man felt thirsty, grabbed some fruit,
but as he opened his mouth, his mind suddenly shook, 1070
for in the fleshly fruit he saw the seed crouch low,
clutch at the rind and shout with fear that it might fall.
The lone man smiled and bit into the juicy flesh,
and when his body had rejoiced and his throat cooled,
he thrust the seed, that hidden god, deep in the soil, 1075
then plunged down toward the dark ravine, spied all the land,
and as wild pigeons passed, or hares, or full-fleshed fawns,
he shot his deadly arrows happily everywhere
till his hands filled with pulsing forms, with bloodstained wings;
he lit a fire in mid-gulch then, roasted his game, 1080
and hurriedly fed his feeble body like a beast.
“Forgive me, God; I know you dwell in birds and trees,
crouched low, your chin wedged tight between your knees,
your heavy shinbones glued to your subservient back,
and that you spread your hands toward light and call for help. 1085
Yet like a hungry octopus you thresh my entrails,
chew your own tentacles, then sprout new ones to eat!
Roast these birds quickly, flames! O heart, rise up and eat!”
Then his heart rose and ate until his mind rejoiced,
his earthen flesh was sated and his knees grew strong: 1090
“Birds, fruit, and water have all become Odysseus now,”
he said, then stood erect on a high rock, and laughed.
He lived through all his journeys; what he wished, he kept;
he held like fruit in both his hands his hybrid god 1094
who also strove on earth like man to seek salvation. 1095
Much-suffering man, you heard God’s anguished cry and climbed
mans steep ascent from crag to crag to its high peak.
First, in the small tent of your puny flesh, you warred
with longings, stubbornness and cares, passions and profits,
but your soul longed for further peaks, and you set forth 1100
to wield your weapons in a greater, higher ring.
You pitched your tent in your own race till hearts, hands, brains,
filled your great body, and you marched like a vast army
with three high tiers of dead, unborn, and living troops.
At once all races moved until the sacred hosts 1105
of poor hand-battling mankind marched within your heart
and war spread through the twisted mazes of your mind.
Then all at once the flocks of water, earth, and air
dashed as supply troops at the tail end of your army,
comrades-in-arms, to aid you in the bloody battle. 1110
‘All those who once had fought alone, without a mate,
you paired off in your lambent breast till all foes merged
in your embrace into an only armored love.
A great erotic whirlwind blows on earth above,
birds swoop on giddy wings and mate in the dazed air, 1115
all silver insects and all shaggy bodies whirl,
and dizzy hearts in sharp birthpangs give birth to God.
A crimson-feathered vulture swoops to pierce the flesh;
some call it Love, some call it God and Death, and some
have called it Outcry that leaps from flesh to flesh and shouts: 1120
“I stifle in all bodies and I don’t want the soul!”
The archer felt the Outcry flick its tongues of flame
on his skull’s crown as though it longed to fly away,
and then he bit his bitter lips and thought with pride:
“I know the soul’s the wick and you’re the flame, my God, 1125
but I won’t let you fade in air thus aimlessly;
the song clove through my brain, I know now what I want:
I’ll build a towering castle on earth to guard you well!”
He spoke and his brains shook till in his head there rose
a city tall and glittering, walls, gates, battlements 1130
zoned by ten great commandments, pierced by sleepless towers.
Already in his deep mind gardens and homes grew,
and young men threw the quoit, babes sucked their mothers’ breasts,
stone laws sat down enthroned like old men on the walls,
some holding scales and swords, some the green myrtle bough, 1135
till the much-suffering man rejoiced to see what he so longed for.
He jumped from rock to rock, his lion shadow leapt,
the sun resounded like a gold war-shield held high,
animals moved, trees rustled, and the waters chirped—
the whole world like an army marched, and the archer led 1140
and felt that he’d become all earth from his loins down.
God seemed then like a faithful friend, a chieftain torn
with wounds who grasped him if he stretched his hands,
who answered quickly if he ever cried for help.
A huge and warlike army camp spread through his mind, 1145
and as he climbed the ridge a sudden longing seized him
to burst out with a happy tune in those wild lands:
“If God were to remake me, I should want to be
a slender, golden-feathered cock to fetch in day;
but then again, if he disdained to re-create me, 1150
all’s well and good, long may he reign, I ask no favors.
Blow all you want, you windbag, stretch my cri
mson sails,
for when you rage you fill my sails and swell my heart!
Ahoy, lads, God’s a whirlwind and there’s no returning!”
As the archer sang in the wild wastes, his heart grew light, 1155
his castle grew immense and firm, devoured the air,
drew down the sun into its boughs like a tall tree,
and as his city flowered and knit, the lone man felt
like a ripe seed that burst in bloom to be disburdened.
But all at once he leant against a rock and felt 1160
God gasp and plod at his right side, stumbling on stones,
and the archer turned to greet him like a gentle host,
but his hand hung in air and his eyes stared with fright
for God changed many forms and leapt in the evening air.
His forebear now passed by with greedy hands outstretched; 1165
starving, he reached for fruit, but the tall trees grew taller;
thirsting, he reached for water, but all streams went dry;
tiring, he leant against an oak, but the oak vanished.
The old man sighed and cursed, then once more plodded on,
but his face suddenly changed again, for now there passed 1170
the myriad-wounded athlete with his lion’s skull, 1171
tagged by that savage and three-headed bulldog, Death.
But as the tall mind-spinner tried to shout with joy,
the mighty champion sped and vanished in thin air.
Then the sublime white-bearded lord of the mind passed 1175
with his fierce eagle, holding tightly in his embrace
the holy infant flame, glittering from top to toe,
until the rocks at his great passing flashed like flint.
Thus all three shepherds of the human race passed by, 1179
and as Odysseus roamed the ridge, the gaunt rocks rang, 1180
tumult and tramp of feet encircled the mountain’s rim,
horsemen and infantry dashed by, battalions climbed,
raised banners fluttered in the air, and lances gleamed.
The archer drew back swiftly to let the armies pass,
but armies in the gloaming there were none, all youths 1185
had vanished, only an old bent vagabond passed by
stumbling on stones and slowly munching a dry bun.
The much-tormented archer shuddered, his eyes glazed,
bitterness, rage, contempt, and fear swept through his mind;
he raised his hands to the old tramp and the gorge rang: 1190
“Old man, are you my fearful God? Stop, speak to me!”
But the old man slowly turned his face and bit his lips;
and the unsweetened archer shook to see the pallid hue,
the savage bitterness, the spite, the unfathomed eyes,
the flickering flames that glittered in his eyes like snakes, 1195
the bloodstained endless upward road he climbed with grief. 1196
The rebel’s heart ached like a woman’s to see him thus,
and tender words sprang to his lips and trembled there—
ah, how he longed to fall in his arms and ease his pain!
But since he felt ashamed to show such tenderness, 1200
not knowing what else to do to hide his shock, he hung
his bloodstained bow on his left arm and whistled softly.
As the sun set behind his back, the full round moon
before him rose in gold till both their beams commingled;
both stars glowed lovingly and smiled, like man and wife, 1205
then parted; the sun vanished down the mountain’s rim,
and the moon paled and softly hovered in the afterglow.
The summits laughed, then grew serene, rocks hung in air
and swayed like clouds in the unworldly azure light;
far off in distant seas all sails were sunk in silver, 1210
the towns with all their houses drowned in the sweet flood.
All minds shook secretly and in the full moon’s light
went strolling till old memories in that stillness woke,
voices long lost and souls long dead, loves that became
white ghosts and drifted lightly on pale moonlit roads. 1215
The moonstruck memory leapt and woke, a death-scorched mother
on whose unsweetened lips words tottered as if to fall,
but only blurred sounds poured in dismal lamentation.
On Negro villages the sun-filled moonlight dripped,
far-distant hamlets drowned in silver, the troughs brimmed, 1220
and all the narrow cobbled lanes flowed like rich streams of milk.
At the far foothills fires leapt, the thatched huts smoked,
the young men danced, and Granite like a cypress swayed
and soon forgot his captain, who might never return—
ahoy, good voyage! the earth could do without even him! 1225
On the lake’s edge he’d build a town with his brave youths
and cast deep roots like Rocky’s on the Negroid earth;
the soul preens like an eagle and has no need of masters.
But Kentaur gazed at the full moon and heaved a sigh:
“Oho, the world has lost its peak, our oak tree’s blasted, 1230
I’ve lost my greedy lust for food, I don’t want wine,
what shall I do now with my strength, how shall I spend it,
for what fine purpose put on flesh and fill my sides,
on whose ship shall I stretch as bulk and ballast now?
Ah, when will mountain peaks turn rose and leap with flame 1235
because you tread on them, lone man, with burning feet?”
Kentaur then fixed his eyes on the high barren peak
with anguish, waiting for his chief in the moon’s glow.
But he, far in his cave, slept like a household snake,
sated and slaked, with heart rejoiced and belly braced, 1240
till he had merged his body’s length with earth and sea.
He slept and dreamt of fir trees, that he climbed a steep
rough mountain where the fir cones gleamed with resinous glue,
and as he climbed, the mountain’s hoarfrost slowly cracked,
his heart grew clear as crystal ice, his fir-peaked mind 1245
lanced through the vast light of the sky with needling thorns.
But when the Morning Star rose up and struck, he leapt
on rocks, his heels grew wings, a red carnation flicked
his ears, a goldfinch on his mind’s dome preened and sang.
Then the bow-lover burst in light, and his heart danced: 1250
“I take delight in all the earth, and I touch God;
we both set out at daybreak, our minds drenched with dew,
and when I turn and see God at my side on his black horse
he bites his pallid lips and greets me silently,
then whips his horse with wrath, speeds on, and the day starts.” 1255
But as the archer’s proud words flashed between his teeth
a slender serpent reared up in his mind and hissed:
“You dunce, you nitwit, I’m surprised! You sunstruck fool,
that crimson bird, the Outcry, must have burst your brains!
Master, you’re building mansions in the air, you’ve made 1260
your fantasy a hound to fetch what game you please,
but I want wood, stones, trowels, men and clay, for dreams
won’t knit or souls be born in any other way.
You think that you’ve caught God, your quarry, and swell with pride,
but you’ve but wound the winds with your air-pregnant mind. 1265
Border-guard, pass all mankind’s exploits now, return
from whence you came, that holy darkness filled with light,
and build your mansions with blood, water, sweat, and tears.
You mounted high, war spread
his massive tentacles;
dead, living, and the unborn, like ornaments, passed through 1270
the smooth and empty crystal of your hawk-swift eyes
till you saw good and evil, foes and friend alike,
all comrades in the troops of your all-swallowing god.
Your dry-thorn brains caught fire, you flicked and faded fast
in that hot whirlwind your mind shaped from empty air. 1275
Enough! Come down to earth! Let’s see what you are worth!”
Stooped low, the archer heard the serpent scold, but spoke
no word, and when the harsh voice hushed and coiled in rings,
he gathered clay and pebbles, mixed a thick rank mud
and swiftly shaped on earth what his swift mind had spun: 1280
A sentry-tower first, grouped round by homes, all zoned
by sharp-toothed battlements and tower-breasted walls.
He raised a tall tent then to house his mighty Lord,
to merge in manly friendliness his God and man
and bring a proud new bridegroom down to widowed earth. 1285
Thus to the soil he bent to sow his fancy’s forms,
and when he’d finished planting, his mind felt relieved,
the soft clay sprang to life, rooms brimmed with shouting men,
the pebbles turned to mothers suckling their infant sons,
the small stones shone like naked youths who threw the quoit, 1290
and God rose from the roofs in banners of blue smoke.
The archer’s heart caught fire, he leapt up from the ground
and felt his yet unborn great city’s battlements
encircle his gray head like a king’s golden crown.
The mountain slopes smiled gently, all wings woke and flew, 1295
the female scorpion coiled on earth and warmed her eggs,
and orchids in the sun’s blaze steamed, black-fleshed and firm.
“Farewell,” the archer shouted, “farewell, O rocks and trees,”
for he had gleaned the wasteland’s honeycomb, and now
he wore God close against his skin, a sweet cool flame. 1300
As he lunged down the mountain slopes, they lunged along,
his lion-shadow, too, rushed headlong down the crags
till all the rocks and trees raised their green hands and yelled:
“Pity us, master, we’re fading! Look at us now! Turn back!
Plant us in some great work’s foundation! Use us! Save us!” 1305
The seven-souled man joyed to feel that nature now
was his co-worker and, like an eagle who breaks boughs
to build its nest, he spied stout trees and cornerstones: