into his thirsty palm like two enormous pearls.
He smiled and closed his fist as his whole body cooled,
then bent his now redeemed and double-minded head: 30
“My fist is slaked with charity and wants no more.”
Huge drops began to fall upon the sun-scorched soil,
leaves flashed, the fragrant plants filled all the air with scent,
and as the sun sailed through the mists and the stones smiled,
the North Wind rose and blew until the storm dispersed. 35
Woodcutters meanwhile entered the wet woods with fear
and lightly stepped on tiptoe not to scare the spirits
that had assembled in trees and shook their bony limbs
or knocked their heads in furious winds until they merged,
stood straight like mighty pillars, and supported God. 40
Like puny ants, the lumberjacks swarmed round the roots
with axes at their waists, held honey in their palms
to soothe the spirits of the trees, those dread forefathers.
Passing through groves of fir and pine, they reached the oaks
and raised their eyes with mute awe to the huge forebears, 45
then hid their axes fearfully behind their backs
and stepped on tiptoe close, with honeyed hands outspread:
“Forgive us, grandfather oak, bear us no evil now,
we want to raise our children here, plant roots in soil
so that our souls won’t fade from earth, our seed in wind; 50
but master, we’ve no wood with which to build our homes.
Come, grandsire, give us a good roof, become our house;
come, grandsire, be our plow that we may sow and eat;
become our son’s stout cradle and our wife’s strong loom;
come cast within our blazing hearths your final flower, 55
the crimson bud of flame, to keep us warm and dry!”
Thus did they try to supplicate the great old oak,
then slowly raised their axes in the shade with fear.
Light had been stifled with the shower, the damp woods steamed,
the frothy soil smelled sweetly like a new-dug grave 60
so that earth’s odor rose into the archer’s brains
as though it were an acrid wine and shook his brows
until his skull roared in the woods like crashing rocks,
like a great flint, and flung sparks in the burning air.
A lightning flash coiled in his hair like a blue viper, 65
earth flared and danced like a bright star, cast roots like seed,
a tree sprang up and swelled, flung flowers and fruit, and then
a sudden cry of “Fire!” rang in the wild woods
and all things turned to flimsy azure smoke, and vanished.
Like eggs that burst with hollow sound in a great fire, 70
the archer heard earth crack deep in his head’s hearth,
but as he sang and stretched his mind’s great inner bow
his eyes grew suddenly dark and his ears buzzed as though
a twanging chord had snapped in two in his mid-brow.
His face turned to a pallid blue, his sharp eyes glazed, 75
and his mouth twisted as he tried to shout, but choked,
by demons whipped, then spread his arms to keep from falling;
but the ground shook with sudden fury and knocked him down.
Then the deep woods resounded and the wild beasts raised
their tails with fear, the foxes stiffly cocked their ears, 80
earth shook again, storms raged, dark brows and temples gaped,
but slowly mountains calmed and the soul raised its head.
Odysseus took a deep breath then and looked about—
what joy! the forest blazed, deserted—not a soul
of man or beast had seen the athlete’s sorry fall. 85
He leant against a tree, then slowly stood erect
in sun and felt Death’s fingers on his shoulders still.
The sunlight fell in a white blaze and struck the ground,
and eagles spread their wings on the white fluffy clouds;
his brain reared like a king snake in the brilliant light 90
and swayed its undulating head to thaw in sun.
“Death laid his fingers lightly on my shoulders then!
Deep in my heart I heard him calling me to come.
Oho! My end at last approaches, the ground gapes!”
He spoke, and his brains seethed, his tholes ripped wide, but as 95
he mused on his sad words, his mind broke into bloom,
his forehead slowly cracked, and softly in the sun
between his eyebrows rose, unseen, the great third eye.
A deep joy drenched his soul and body through and through, 99
he felt this was his famous body’s final flower; 100
and as through a clear emerald the sharp eye discerns
far things, and sweetness inexpressible laps the world,
and the sun loses all its poison, the air its sting,
so did the third clear emerald eye stand over the world.
He saw and hailed all virgin things for the first time, 105
looked on all things for the last time and cried farewell. 106
Each moment Time is wound, then springs like a fierce tiger
within whose mind past, present, future flare and die;
end and beginning close the circle spun by fate
and in that sweetest union the third eye arose 110
in the god-slayer’s brow like a pure precious stone.
Turning, he saw his boon companion, old man Death,
standing with his lean sword beneath a fig tree’s shade
while seven crimson dogs with green eyes yelped in rage.
But the brain-archer gazed on old man Death and smiled: 115
“Ah, friend, you wait for me in shadow astride your horse,
you hold the reins of my gray steed with your one hand
and with your other shade your eyes and search the road.
Push on toward the blue sea, O slayer! I’ll greet you there!”
The sea rose in his loins and flooded all his mind, 120
then on his sulphurous nostrils dashed her salty spray.
He raised his white-haired head and smelled the briny air,
then like an elephant who sniffs Death’s odor nigh
and to the light soil stoops serenely his old head,
recalling dimly the far haunts of his own kind, 125
the dark woods he had roamed, the streams where he first bathed,
and from the foreign and confining glen makes straight
for the dim cradle of his birth to perish there,
thus did Odysseus push on toward his mother, the dark sea.
He drove on southward, smelling from the world’s far ends 130
the cool sea-spray so that his soul spread swelling sails
and Death, too, turned and whistled till the ground twigs cracked
as horses, dogs, and hunter dashed through empty light.
The archer followed close behind, pushed through the glen,
holding an oleander blossom, Death, between his teeth; 135
a rough song of the open road rose in his mind,
and all his retinue before him, steeds, dogs, Death,
heard the resounding tune and ran, his faithful hounds.
Like the white elephant’s round ancient eye, he passed 139
slowly through plants and grass and bade the world farewell; 140
his mind broke the hooked barb of life, shook itself free,
and breathed in deeply the cold, savage brine of Death.
He marched all day, well sated, without food or drink:
“Farewell, tall silent hills that have no fear of death,
farewell, O short-lived trees, and you, my brother beasts, 145
we’ve
played a lovely game, but all things have an end.”
Then mighty autumn blew until the wounded leaves
lay dead on the damp earth like birds of varied hue,
and as he crunched them on his way, Odysseus shuddered.
All turned to mirrors where the soul now watched her face; 150
the lone man was a tree with trees, a stone with stones,
he woke with birds and all his inner wings would shake;
the elements that formed him threw their arms out wide,
air, water, earth, and fire that once had shaped his soul,
until he merged in kind with the world’s elements. 155
His mystic and invisible body, azure-hued,
flickered about his flesh and cast ray-tentacles
that twined about earth’s brawny bones and clasped them tight.
All flesh had turned to spirit now, all soul to flesh,
all to swift dance and counter-dance led by the mind 160
until he trod on earth no more but like the wraith
of a dead saint danced without wings above his head.
Man’s boundaries stumbled, and mud-walls came tumbling down;
at dusk in a dark forest a striped tiger leapt
and stood before him as its lean tail flailed the earth 165
and its chest glowed with hunger like a sneak thief’s lantern.
The freed mind watched his brother with unmoving calm
while from his bowels brimmed a deep forbearing love,
and both stared in each other’s eyes as the man’s flesh
melted and slowly turned to food for the starved tiger 170
until the beast accepted love in place of flesh.
Their mystical communion lingered for many hours
until the mind became frail flesh in the thick air
and the tamed tiger gently growled, stepped back with tail
held high, and sated, full of joy, leapt in the wood. 175
As the moon rose like a lean prow in bluest air
and slowly dragged its round and sunless hull down toward
the dark West in a sky of flickering starry flames,
the death-consenting man recalled the golden ships
he once rejoiced to watch on the Nile’s fertile stream 180
as they sailed slowly on with cargoes of dead kings.
When the night shadows fell, the lustrous border-guard
stretched out supine on the roots of a wing-stormed date tree
and watched the careless stars amid the poignant leaves,
and watched the heavens slowly turn like a huge wheel 185
on which man’s wretched mind turned also, bound with law.
Ah, with what ruthless silence do stars sail the sky,
and we, shipwrecked within a deep black well, drag out
a savage shriek in vain, in vain cry out for help,
for no star ever swerved toward earth to save one soul. 190
Only the third eye watched the heavens hopelessly
nor deigned to weep, nor asked for shelter, but between
the ruthless eyebrows of the freed man slowly whirled
the world around and ground it calmly like gold grain,
for all things live and die in its one wink alone. 195
Odysseus stooped and shuddered to feel the mind’s strength;
earth fell and sprang like seed in his brain’s furrowed coils,
and what for eons had striven in night’s womb to sprout
in shoots, fruit, flower, now in the holy lone man’s brain
sprang in a flash with fruit and flower, then swirled in smoke. 200
But suddenly as his brain wove and unwove the world,
he felt black fingers touch his shoulders once again
till his delirium worsened like a wound so that he clutched
the date tree not to fall, and as he pierced the dark,
he saw Death standing to the left of the date palm 205
with all his seven flaming bloodhounds panting there.
Then the old athlete wanly smiled and waved his hand:
“Why such great haste, dear friend? Why not consult me too?
Don’t lick your chops with your dry tongue; I’m still strong bone;
I’ll let you gnaw my bones one day, but now I need them, 210
for the soul clasps the body tight until it rots.
Come close, that hunter and the hunted may agree;
I wish now slowly to descend toward the far waves
where I may hew tall trees once more and build my last
most slender, arrowy skiff, most slender, narrow bier, 215
so that with my strong chin thrust tight between my knees,
my hard palms gripping my world-wandering weary soles,
(as once I huddled tightly in my mother’s womb),
I may once more return to the sea, to that vast womb.
Until then, Death, whether you will or not, be patient!” 220
He spoke, then like an archon slowly walked and stretched
his left hand toward the savage shadow, wrapped in fear:
“Keep seven steps behind me, Death; I’ll call at need.”
Death stopped and paced back seven paces, stepping slow,
while his red hounds rolled their green eyes in savage rage, 225
and the great athlete, by this lustrous army tagged,
burst out with laughter, thundering in the cave of night:
“By God, when my flesh lies dispersed in the damp ground,
my throat shall turn to a red cock to rise and crow, 229
and if worms poke into my nose, strong snakes shall rise, 230
coil round the well and gulp the fairy princess down; 231
my mind shall turn to a blackamoor, descend to Hades, 232
and browse on gold it won, and guide its property
of gods and ghosts and dreams and fragrant harbor towns!”
He spoke, and as firm clumps of grapes hang on a vine, 235
the bright star-clusters rose and dangled in his glittering brain.
His mind like a clear crystal crossed the night until
the light came dancing in the dawn like a spry kid,
leapt on his shoulder blades, then stretched in his strong lap.
When he arose, he joyed in rose-cheeked earth that came 240
and stood before him like a nude firm-throated girl:
“Death has revived my appetite, I’ll rise and eat!”
the lone man shouted, laughing, and his nose and ears,
his eyes, searched everywhere for stilts to prop his hunger.
Hearing a rustling skirmish in a large oak tree, 245
the famished athlete stealthily approached tiptoe
and saw a small bear cub that stretched its shaggy paws
and reached for a gold beehive gleaming through the boughs.
It licked its pointed snout, with sticky honey daubed,
knocked down the honeycomb, looted its liquid gold, 250
and the god-slayer sat on earth and like a lord
accepted the divine thick nectar his slave proffered:
“Your health, my good co-worker, O my sweet bear cub!
It’s only right that men and beasts should work for me,
it’s right that a tree’s toiling roots should feed its flower, 255
for only thus may the savior fruit of freedom ripen.
What freedom? To stare in the black eyes of the abyss
with gallantry and joy as on one’s native land!”
He spoke, then set out southward with the dawning light.
His soul stretched out and sweetened, his eyes, ears, and hands 260
caressed the world insatiably and stroked it smooth
till slowly his gnarled heart turned to a ripening fruit.
He watched the young tree-nymphs with locks of maidenhair
swinging themselves in sun high on the supple boughs;
he hailed t
he ancient silent trees, their dread grandsires, 265
then sat cross-legged at night on their humped roots and talked
with their green spirits, their moss-haired ancestral crones.
He saw in sun the phantoms of the invisible world,
he saw at night the downy shades that sauntered past,
and he strolled with them too, a ghost among the ghosts. 270
Sometime toward dusk he heard the crimson setting sun
groan like a young bull dragged to slaughter in the dark West.
He heard the scarab, stretched supine upon the ground,
breathing his last with joy, for he had done his duty
and thrust his holy seed in his mate’s fertile womb, 275
stored dung in the deep burrows for his sons to eat,
and now, like a meek saint, stretched out his claws to die.
One day the three-eyed man saw noontime walk the earth’s
sun-stricken road like a king’s son who held and waved
aloft a tall-stemmed yellow flower while thick round drops 280
of pearly sweat dripped from his hair, but when he saw
the lone man from afar, he climbed on a white rock.
As the lone wanderer slowly passed and looked on high,
he saw no king’s son there, but only a tall sunflower
that hung its heavy head and watched the traveler pass. 285
Another day he saw a snow-white peacock leap
on a cliff’s edge and open there its silver tail,
squandering its beauty in the wilds without reward.
“Ah, beautiful, abundant wealth, I’ll take two plumes
for the two oars of the last skiff I have in mind.” 290
He smiled, and toward that silver treasure stretched his hand,
but the white peacock closed its bright cascade in wrath
and swiftly vanished in the trees like the pale moon.
The lone man’s eyes flashed flame as he recalled the two
good things which always calmed and lit his darkened heart: 295
the warm white rose that steams within the blazing sun,
the windless sand that strews a beach like fine white flour,
and now their third white brother that strolled past with spreading tail.
As the swift-dying man walked on, he sweetly joyed
in the firm world reflected in his ancient eyes 300
and in the emerald unseen world of mystic eyes.
One flaming evening he discerned in a deep hollow
a town that gleamed amid the trees and riverbanks,
and heard the bark of drums and dogs, the talk in rooms;
and as the sun set and the burning houses cooled, 305
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