The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

by Nikos Kazantzakis

  alone, dear God, within this closed and fragrant garden.”

  OLD KING: “Alas, my life has been unfruitful, sickly, weak.

  When I was young I bragged and spun deeds in my head, 345

  earth seemed so small and narrow it couldn’t hold my heart,

  and I would stroke my long mustache and chirp with song:

  ‘If earth, lads, were my steed, the moon my talisman,

  I’d spur my steed until I reached great God himself:

  “Your health and joy, man-killer!” “Welcome, my brave lad! 350

  Sit at my table, eat and drink, sit down and sing!”

  “But I’ve not come to heaven to eat and drink with you.

  My hands are earth, my heart’s a flame, my mind’s a sword!

  I’ve come astride my youth to give you battle, Lord!”

  “Take off your clothes, my brave young man, throw down your arms, 355

  pull out your fingernails, your teeth, your eyes, your tongue,

  then cross your hands, my lad, that I may take your soul.”

  “I won’t take off my clothes, I won’t throw down my arms,

  and I won’t cross my hands that you may take my soul!

  I have a soul, Lord, just like yours; we’re both brave men. 360

  Take up your arms, come down, fight on earth’s threshing floor!”’

  That’s how I bravely challenged God and fought him hard.

  I longed to outfit mighty armies and swift ships,

  my mind dreamt of far countries, women, shores of pearls,

  and all my bosom, stooped to earth, sought deathlessness. 365

  But now? I look back and see bitter shames and passions,

  armies that cut and scattered, worthless friendships, loves,

  good food, good drink, a well-arranged household routine

  where the empty heart plods back and forth and chews her cud.

  a murdering God, I’ll cross my hands now! Take my soul! 370

  My daring youth’s armada forged into the wind

  but sank and vanished in a household washing-trough!

  Today when nightingales sing sweetly and trees bud,

  I wander in the sad moon’s light and long for youth.”

  WARRIOR: “Always a sweet light drunkenness impels my heart. 375

  I’ve passed through mountains, countries, seas, I’ve conquered towns,

  I’ve juggled women’s heads and breasts high in the air,

  and through my open fingertips blood-rubies flow,

  but still my heart’s not gorged, nor are my hands replete.

  I always think I’ve touched a girl for the first time, 380

  climbed up a castle for the first time or held it tight

  like a red apple, cooled my hand for the first time.

  My heart strains like a ship’s sail and my body creaks,

  black women wave from beaches with white lotuses,

  sharp odors strike my nostrils, corals build their isles, 385

  and rocks are crammed with eggs and naked fledgling gulls.

  I shout, greet all the shores and seas, and then pass on,

  for in deep caverns I’ve seen lonely Freedom shine

  as in the dark she washed and combed her hair with stars,

  and when she moved her azure eyes and saw my shadow 390

  she sang a most sweet song there high on the cliff’s edge.

  ‘Ah, Lady Lure,’ I cried, ‘in truth I do adore

  your sweet though acrid song, and your blond floating hair,

  but I can’t stay, I loot your song and then pass on,

  for still the voyage is long, my dear, and life’s a drop.’ “ 395

  SLAVE: “My master lies upon his golden bed and sleeps,

  the ox are chewing by their troughs, the moon has risen,

  and day has ended—ah, may it, also, go to the crows!

  Cursed be this life, and cursed all those who long for life!

  The rich from too much food and women and red wine 400

  fumble from wall to wall, vomit, then feast again,

  but we’re forbidden the sweet flesh, and starve and thirst.

  Oho, it’s a foul shame that God won’t heal our hurt,

  or is he also an archon, lads, romps like a scamp

  and from too much of a good time has lost his wits? 405

  My heart’s grown wormy now from questions, pains, and tears,

  I want to wail in a loud screech, but fear my master,

  I want to hide in the wild woods, but fear the beasts,

  I want to draw my naked blade, but fear my god;

  fear is a deep dark well in which I’ve plunged headfirst. 410

  O pallid moon who watch me sitting here in tears,

  pity me, close your eyes, give me your consolation,

  give me rich myriad dreams, or give me women, food;

  pity me, spendthrift lavish sleep, open your purse,

  it gives the worm great joy to dream at times of soaring wings.” 415

  At daybreak between sleep and waking their minds tossed,

  they squirmed and stretched on the flat stones but found no rest

  till the soul-snatcher lowered his flute’s alluring sound

  and the tune’s sweetness poured in their light-sleeping ears

  like the far-distant tinkling of sheep-bells at dusk. 420

  Then sleep broke softly from the tree of night and hung,

  a ripe full-seeded male fig, in their unripe shadow,

  and as the eyes of their flesh closed, their inner eyes

  burst open, till to the cadence of a dead man’s bone

  the five souls were untwined and twined through one another. 425

  The maid was first to lead the dance in dreamland’s ring,

  and as with fear and joy she smelled the men, she cried:

  MAID: “Four men are here! I am the only maid! Alas,

  what if they now should sniff the scent of a girl’s breast?

  Ah, like the nightingale, I too shall hide in thorns; 430

  come close, wild grapevine, sister, twine me tight; come close,

  O nightingale, sing loud, conceal my trembling heart;

  rise up, O sighs, for the clear moon is hid in mist.

  May no man’s eyes now see me or his cruel hands touch me;

  my maidenhead is a sweet apple, Lord, protect it! 435

  Oho, if they should seize me I’ll claw out their eyes;

  welcome is death a thousand times than the world’s scorn!

  If the prince seized me, though, and swore he wished me well,

  I’d not cry out, for his pale face is very sweet;

  I’d rock him gently like a son between my breasts. 440

  But if the warrior rushed and grasped me tight, alas,

  how could I ever guard my virgin body, Lord?

  He treads the earth like a bull; it groans, and his teeth shine;

  I see his hairy arms, and my breasts hurt me! Ah,

  if he should squeeze me in his hands I’d break in two, 445

  yet no girl’s come to harm, just squeezed in a man’s arms!

  But best of all is to be gleaned by the old king’s hand.

  He’d heap my doorway with a pile of towering gold,

  he’d arm me handsomely with pearls and golden coins

  and on my wedding finger place the wedding ring. 450

  Alas, he’s a thin shadow lost in the moon’s glow.

  Only the slave’s left now, he stalks like a wild boar;

  how can a girl sleep, Mother, on his shaggy chest?

  Ah, in the road there leaps and steams a strapping man

  with crooked cap aslant, with the asp’s wily eyes, 455

  and a slim leopard stalks before him with tail held high;

  his hands are empty, but they glow like flashing knives,

  on his broad back he bears the heavens and earth like two

  small goats, smiles like a shepherd, locks them in thei
r pens,

  and in his fists he holds and plays with my pale soul!” 460

  The bone-flute suddenly stopped, and all the five night-prowlers

  stood still within the dream at once with hovering feet

  until the heart-seducer smiled in pity for all man

  and raised his hands above the black-doomed ghosts that death

  might let them find fulfillment in the sun awhile. 465

  His thoughts then rose like smoke in the night’s windlessness:

  ODYSSEUS: “Ah, five warm bodies shrivel here, five wretched souls

  like caterpillars crawl, mud-soaked, and gasp for air.

  Ah, how I pity them! I’ll fall on them and nail

  flames to the right and left of their soft backs like wings. 470

  The sun falls on the ground and rims it with pure gold,

  it shows no special love or hate, and its great eye

  looks on all cities, men, and worms with the same joy;

  and thus my eyes shall make earth sprout with wings of flame.

  Open the mind’s deep hold and let them eat and glow, 475

  let the worm stretch in sun and take whatever it can!”

  Thus did the soul-seducing pirate think, then placed

  his flute of dead man’s bone against his sucking lips

  and, as the first sounds fell, five spirits turned their heads

  in fear and looked at him, stooped on the cliffs of sleep: 480

  MAID: “In the unripe moonlight his eyes flash with emerald sparks.

  Alas, he stalks through earth with rage, he spreads his hands,

  he opens his mouth and speaks, but I can’t hear a word.”

  ODYSSEUS: “Like fragments of a windmill rotted from old age

  their five warm bodies lie unmatched on the strewn ground, 485

  a wheel, an axle here, a wing, a tower there,

  the two millstones disjoined, the gold grain poured to earth.

  But in my memory I still keep that splendid shape,

  and in this wilderness, in the moon’s spread, I’ll raise

  a windmill sonorous and intact, and feed it grain 490

  and set its great wings whirling with my mind’s four winds.

  Ah, you five tentacles of all my passion, stay!”

  MAID: “We stay! If only we could run far, far away!”

  ODYSSEUS: “What shall I do with you, now that you’re in my claws?

  Your tears and laughter are deep cisterns in your breasts, 495

  I like both fountainheads—which shall I open first?

  I hold five hearts tight in my hands, five tangled skeins,

  a windmill’s five white wings; now when the wind shall blow

  how shall I cast my willful mind on those torn wings?

  Shall they grind slowly, gently, a fine household flour, 500

  or shall I blow so fiercely that sails, millstones, grain,

  explode once more and vanish in my whirlwind mind?

  Far better not to ask! Whatever comes is welcome!

  I blow them my own spirit to open their clay eyes,

  I blow them my own spirit to open their brows wide. 505

  O children, an erotic South Wind blows, the hills

  are moved, the world is a plucked rose, a dwindling fragrance.”

  MAID: “Dear God, a sweet breeze blows upon my curly brows;

  earth moves, my brain whirls round, a mighty forest looms,

  dusk falls, and azure cooling shadows spread on earth; 510

  far far away I hear small silver bells that weep—

  ah, ah, I now hear mournful sounds deep in the darkling air.”

  OLD KING: “Faithful slave, stop! My heart feels something evil here!

  With my gold carriage which you drive, and its four steeds,

  entrusted slave, we’re dashing pellmell straight toward death! 515

  See how the parrots perch now on the topmost boughs,

  see how the blackbirds jeer and mock us with shrill cries,

  see how the wild goats, fawns, gazelles, and all wild things

  gaze with no fear as though we were but empty shades!

  Apes climb the pomegranate trees, pelt us with rinds 520

  and stick out their behinds with no respect or shame;

  O faithful slave, shout loudly, let all creatures hear

  and flee with fear: The King of Africa goes by!’”

  SLAVE: “Master, I’m hoarse with shouting at the birds and beasts,

  ‘The King goes by! Now hide from his great face in shame!’ 525

  They eat on shamelessly, befoul themselves, pair off,

  whistle and jeer before you, king, and show no awe;

  but you’re a good man, pity them, don’t wish them ill.”

  OLD KING: “These are not birds or beasts but phantoms of the woods.”

  SLAVE: “I’m but a slave, I’ve not been given the grace to see 530

  such souls, but only bellies, feet, and birdshit, master.

  They say the spirits live further off, there at the root

  of a high slender date tree with infertile boughs.

  They say that a lightheaded warrior passed one night

  and saw them dancing in a moonlit forest grove, 535

  but I think, master, they were male and female hares.”

  OLD KING: “I beg of you, dear slave, don’t laugh—it seems I dreamt

  a great ascetic sought for grace in this dark wood.

  Which date tree? My old eyes have blurred, the world’s grown dim.”

  SLAVE: “There at the cliff’s rim, upon that hanging rock.” 540

  OLD KING: “Lower your eyes and hands with holy reverence, slave!

  Well met, O fearful tree, on this cliff’s murky depths,

  thrice holy date tree, without shade or fruit or hope!

  For forty years a great ascetic groaned and fought

  here at your roots and sanctified all earth around, 545

  east, west, north, south, a thousand miles, and lured all souls.

  When I was young and hunted tigers in these woods

  I lost my way and stumbled on this holy ring

  one night and peered with fright amid some blossomed boughs.

  A sweet most beautiful spirit, dancer of azure skies, 550

  knelt nude before the great ascetic sunk in thought

  and held in her slim hands and swayed a feathered fan

  to cool his creaking temples in the fevered dark.

  Her lily fingers shone like ivory, finely shaped,

  her raven hair protected her sweet nakedness, 555

  and I, who fought with tigers and pursued wild lions,

  took fright at her nude sacred body and turned back,

  but a bough creaked, she slowly turned, laughed, and was lost

  in air like a faint rainbow made of the moon’s beams.

  Slave, shut your scoffing lips and exorcise your laughter!” 560

  SLAVE: “Forgive me, master, if I also say my say:

  May this sky-spirit you speak of stay with us forever!

  It seems the great ascetic once had made a masterpiece;

  she must have had the soul you spoke of, king, and still

  a wee, wee bit of flesh. It may be that one night, 565

  as the great athlete toppled from his lofty thoughts,

  he tripped and found himself glued on her suddenly,

  and then from too much squirming, a wee stroke too much,

  in nine months’ time, it seems, the spirit—forgive me, God!—

  began to bellyache like any other simple maid.” 570

  OLD KING: “Slave, stubborn mule, don’t mock, don’t add to all your sins;

  on this vile earth the spirits live like men or maids

  made pregnant with no kisses, watered without water.”

  SLAVE: “I’m but a slave and do not understand souls well,

  but I’ve heard say they love ascetics wondrously 575

  and whoo
p it up in women’s bodies in dark caves

  and that the son conceived is deemed to be God’s son.”

  OLD KING: “Slave, O most scurrilous soul, your lips move secretly;

  retch all your filthy words out now and cleanse your mind!”

  SLAVE: “It’s said—forgive me, king!—that the ascetic’s daughter 580

  bursts into beauteous bloom far from the eyes of man,

  that she, too, hungers, strives, and groans beside her father

  until the spirit descends and shades her like a man;

  I don’t know how, my master—it seems the soul descends

  with breasts to holy men, with beards to female saints.” 585

  OLD KING: “O slave, O murky heart, your eyes are blocked with mud,

  you can’t see the unseen as yet or touch the untouched.

  At times I deign to cross with you some simple words

  and cast in your mud-furrows seeds of simple speech,

  but all the seed lies fallow in your sterile head. 590

  You’ve ears, but you can’t hear, you’ve eyes, but can’t see God,

  yet a blind power always urges that I choose you

  to guide my golden chariot in a difficult hour,

  for my heart loves you, O dull-witted shaggy beast.”

  SLAVE: “Master, far better than your nobles, those musk-rats, 595

  or eunuch slaves, those gelded cocks and faithful dogs,

  shall I flush out and find your son in these dark Woods,

  for I don’t yet believe in spirits or stifling ghosts;

  I brush all pallid shades aside, hunt down the meat

  and cut a faultless road straight through this sterile earth.” 600

  OLD KING: “The spirits of the wilds must have misled my son;

  how can you ever find the road to bring him back?

  Turn the gold reins, dear slave, drive to the palace now;

  we’ve turned the forest inside out in vain since dawn;

  the sun has set, and with it every hope I’ve had. 605

  As he was hunting mountain game or forest deer,

  a cunning spirit must have donned the downy shape

  of a musk doe and led my darling boy astray

  from cliff to cliff, from stream to stream until, dear God,

  they both descended deep to Hades, step by step. 610

  Ah, faithful slave, I’ll deck your head with splendid plumes,

  I’ll give you precious amulets that all your life

  you may be safe from scorpions or seductive maids,

  I’ll hang a noble’s golden seal about your neck,

  and ask but one thing in return: find me my son! 615

  Why do you laugh? Bow down, you fool, and hear my words.”