The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

by Nikos Kazantzakis

  and flashed his eyes till the two bodies wholly glowed

  and hovered in his smile like playthings made of light.

  The young man writhed, then rushed to fall into the net,

  but the mature man seized his friend and held him tight: 1035

  “Brother, hold lustrous Hellas firmly in your mind!”

  But the young man drew close to the smile’s magic well:

  “A soft smile bubbles from his mind, serene, profound,

  pours on his flesh like honey, spreads on all the earth,

  and in the dusk his face’s contours flick with light. 1040

  Ah, could I snatch his smile and bring it like bright plunder,

  more brilliant than the mind, to intellectual Greece!”

  His startled friend gazed on the young man’s pallid face:

  “Alas, you’ve tasted the lotus’s forgetful fruit!

  Your eyes are burning, honeyed poison brims your lips, 1045

  let’s leave before our native land fades from your mind!”

  But the dream-taken youth glowed with a soft smile:

  “This is our native land, dear friend, this is the rock

  on which great God is carved with faint forgetfulness and air.”

  His comrade clasped the waist of the still trembling youth 1050

  then calmly turned to the unflowered tree that smiled

  and had now cast one overripe sage fruit to earth. 1052

  “Speechless Ascetic, who on strife’s peak sit enthroned,

  we’ve brought our words like heralds, and we seek reply.”

  But the old man once more spread his compassionate arms: 1055

  “O brothers, wash your mouths in deep oblivion’s stream,

  our great Ascetic smiled and all your flesh dissolved—

  this is the mighty answer, friends, the total Word.”

  The seedless unillusioned brain, translucent head,

  leant gently on the unflowered tree, and its soft smile 1060

  allured both heralds closer like a fisher’s net,

  though they clung tightly, arm in arm, to keep from falling.

  The moment of full freedom loomed, the pale flame hissed

  and gathered strength to leap far from the sputtering wick

  as the translucent Saint now smiled and beckoned Death. 1065

  But as he shut his eyes and his back touched the tree,

  its branches brimmed with pure white bloom, a warm breeze blew

  and the white flowers slowly fell, mute tufts of snow,

  and covered all his body, his shoulders, feet, and head.

  “It’s Death!” some awed disciples cried in loud lament, 1070

  but others laughed, broke into dance and clapped their hands;

  behold, salvation’s door had smashed and gaped for all!

  The beasts and birds cried out, and from a lowering cloud

  the gods stooped low to find a worthy paradigm

  of how the soul is freed, to free themselves one day. 1075

  Then the wedge-bearded man turned to his youthful friend:

  “Why do these strange barbarians dance and laugh and weep

  like God’s fanatics who tread snakes or burning coals?

  They soil the reverent face of holy Mother Earth.”

  But the youth sighed as his mind raced beyond the earth: 1080

  “This Sage, my friend, seems like a greater Dionysus;

  sober amid earth’s wine-vats now, ruthless and sweet,

  he treads on man’s heads as on clumps of purple grapes.

  Blood splatters, rises to his knees, his loins, his chest,

  then floods his brain like wine but cannot make it drunk, 1085

  for blood within him turns to soul and lucid light.

  Now I’m ashamed I’ve brought our god as talisman, 1087

  as though this Sage would condescend to fear the, abyss!

  Greece is a small and dwindling thought within his brain.”

  The elder spread his arms to guide the enraptured troop: 1090

  “Don’t weep or wail, my brothers, and don’t dance, keep calm;

  our great Ascetic strides now past Death’s sacred door,

  his hands and feet grow bright, his body glows with joy,

  the victor treads his native land, and the great walls

  of mind and flesh fall silently that he may pass. 1095

  Flesh dances, and mind dances! Death is a swift dance!”

  Both young and old, unmoving, marveled at the great

  soul-warrior sinking now serenely deep in the earth;

  the sun had hid himself, drops fell from lowering clouds,

  long lightning flashes swept across the southern plains. 1100

  Earth, like a woman who had given birth and looks

  at her first son with joy amid the rain, now crossed

  her hands serene in silent happiness, and died.

  But as Motherth was sinking in the cellared ground

  he suddenly heard a dread cry tear the sky above him, 1105

  a swift noose seized and hung him for a moment high,

  his soul and body hovered in the darkling air,

  the faithful shrieked, and when they raised their eyes they saw

  a dread spread-eagle soaring, screeching, through the sky,

  and their great Sage hung dangling in the grip of savage claws. 1110

  It soared on southward, lost amid the twilight’s flames,

  and pallid Rala raised her worm-enraptured eyes

  and hailed the flashing, fleeting bird with longing heart:

  “Eagle, if only I had your wings or the great joy

  to hang thus from your savage claws, to tear the sky 1115

  and reach my love at once to find out why he wants me!

  From his hoarse cry, dread bird, I fear his life’s in danger.”

  She bound her blood-soaked kerchief then to hide the mud,

  bit hard her pallid lips to make them red as flame,

  then, stooping low to stagnant pools, gazed at her face. 1120

  Ah, she’d grown ugly, lean, her eyebrows had thinned out,

  only her downy eyes still moved with beauty’s grace,

  like jet-black water lilies in a deadly marsh.

  How good to be returned to the warm breath of earth!

  Once she’d betrayed her destiny, but never again! 1125

  Ah, she’d repented squandering her rich life in vain

  for future joys and glories, to revenge the poor,

  nor ever plucked the ripe fruit of a woman’s tree.

  What joy! Now that she’d scooped her flesh from muddy earth,

  and copper anklets jangled on her sun-bronzed legs, 1130

  now that the proud two-headed beast leapt on her bosom,

  she rushed toward her beloved’s voice and longed to fall

  within his virile arms to bear him sons one day!

  But now she stooped above the stagnant waters, fixed her hair,

  and cried with lips that brimmed with cobwebs and complaints: 1135

  “They call me the Great Martyr, virgin with beast’s eyes,

  raise statues to my memory, altars to my name,

  and worship my virginity, that cobwebbed gate!

  I’ve squandered all my body for a great idea!

  Ah, if I’d only known how heavy my breasts hung! 1140

  All I could not fulfill in flesh I strive to enjoy

  as statue now, and glut myself with marble kisses.

  Quickly, to be on time before the temple gates

  burst open, I paint my lips and nails, I bare my breasts,

  smear unguents on my limbs, twine roses through my hair, 1145

  and when the sun leaps and the panting faithful come,

  then as the rites prescribe, unmoving, mute, I give

  myself to warm embracements and to savage love;

  but ah, the stone takes all the joy and gives me none!

  But see, the sta
tue’s come alive now, the flesh flames, 1150

  so farewell, farmers, workers, here’s my new path now;

  I’m not a man to brood upon the world’s good works,

  for I was born a maid, and a maid’s duty is love;

  I rush to meet my loved one, for I’ve heard his call.”

  But as she looked in leech-filled waters, Rala saw 1155

  a thin shade hovering close that slowly raised its hands,

  and all at once she knew, as though it were a dream,

  what handsome youth stood at her side and gently smiled.

  She bit her lips till the blood flowed, she seethed with rage;

  so he’d come too, with baby faith and fleshless good! 1160

  She raised her face and ran on south, but the young man

  slid calmly by her side and sought her company,

  for night had fallen, he feared to walk in dark alone,

  and a good word at the right time consoles the mind.

  Lightly they sped on swift tiptoe from grass to grass 1165

  as on day-broken meadows the frail rolling mist;

  the slim young fisher held his net slung down his back

  and his illumined features shone with quiet joy

  as though the waves had washed them or the sea had drowned them,

  and his voice rustled like the sigh of blossomed trees: 1170

  “Rala, what joy to live with someone at your side

  and to return home in such peaceful dusk as this,

  slow and serene, your working tools clasped in your hands,

  while God roams through the streets like a soft lullaby

  and drifts through courtyards where shy virgins hear his song, 1175

  satisfied, mute, nor long for a man’s lawless kiss;

  to pass through the still night, to hear breasts rise and fall

  like fluttering fledglings in their warm and downy nests!

  Rala, the earth’s a nest in the warm palms of God!”

  But the unsquandering body with its flaming kerchief, 1180

  in whom desire for men at last had burst and swelled,

  now swerved with wrath, and both her dust-grimed cheeks turned red:

  “Ah, if there were a god in Heaven or deep in Hades

  or even on this wretched earth, I’d stand before him

  with a honed ax and curse him in a screeching voice!” 1185

  The startled fisher boy closed tight his ink-black eyes,

  his sigh whiffed through green rushes like a fledgling’s cry,

  a fragile soul that swept through leaves when the wind blows.

  But Rala pricked the squeamish lad with mocking jeers:

  “Go pack, you fool! Your tasteless soup of camomile 1190

  does not refresh my sacred heat or heal my pain! 1191

  Scat! Vanish in your skies! I don’t want chastities!

  Your pure-white lilies make me retch, your sweetness cloys,

  I hold my breasts in both my hands and rush toward love!”

  But suddenly, as the young maid mocked and hissed like snakes, 1195

  she heard a crunching sound in the fresh reeds, and turned:

  behold, a female leopard with great wrath dashed out,

  then reared her head, sniffed at the air, and raised her tail

  as though she smelled a leopard’s sweat in the South Wind.

  Rala spread out her hand and stroked that stormy back: 1200

  “Thrice welcome, O twin sister, welcome, O twin eyes,

  a thousand welcomes to the starved unsated flame!

  I love you when you wag your tail and strike the world,

  for you’re starved always, and you long for human flesh;

  let’s run, dear sister, our great leopard shouts far out at sea!” 1205

  Thus like a stream the shadowy caravan rushed and swelled

  as two by two all sped and merged on sea, air, land;

  old comrades met and merged nor parted ever again,

  Phida and Rala twined as friends, pale Krino dashed

  from her black bull and fell in Helen’s girlish arms, 1210

  sweet Margaro and Diktena strolled arm in arm,

  all lightly swayed from peak to peak at the wind’s bidding.

  The Cretan mistress, happy in her youth, turned first:

  “Dear friend, we’re walking now toward the unsetting sun,

  its holy light drips on our flesh and flows like honey; 1215

  now close your eyes to enjoy the warm hands of our god.”

  Margaro turned, shut her long lashes, and then smiled

  as on the air she smelled the archer’s sulphurous breath:

  “Ah, hold me on earth forever in your warm embrace!”

  Her full lips slowly ceased to flutter their red wings 1220

  and her words vanished like sweet bees in flowers lost;

  then the two bodies, vowed to arts of love, walked down

  the azure shores, light-heeled and silent, sun-caressed.

  The sun took fright as the earth darkened, showers whirred,

  and all the wedding guests, that sweet parade of shadows, 1225

  nude breasts and crimson lips and hairy arms and thighs,

  cooled weary feet at length on the dark waves and raised

  pellucid hands on high to scan the distant sea:

  “Where is our captain now, dear God? Who called for help?

  There spreads a waste and desolate sea, and no tall cap’s in sight!” 1230

  In a deep daze beyond them, on the other shore,

  their captain stood, straight, silent, on his mount of snow,

  his white beard hung with crystal ice, his lips dark blue,

  and gazed far out at sea as his heart called for help.

  The leader’s flesh dissolved and poured in gaping earth, 1235

  but his deep yearning tore through mountains, plunged to Hades,

  then seized the loved damp clay till flesh once more congealed,

  till that wild bird, the soul, soared free and once more built

  its nest in the sun’s beams with flesh and blood and dreams.

  His comrades yelled from shores, in haste to seize once more 1240

  at oars, love, war, their old tasks in the savage world,

  and their great leader felt their haste, his heart leapt high;

  he saw the caravan coming, heard the joyous bells

  and smelled the myriad fragrances that Granite brought;

  he saw broad-buttocks, decked in his canary cloak, 1245

  bearing the piper on his shoulders like a kid

  that once had wandered from the flock and now returns;

  his nostrils flared and sniffed the sweet and downy maids

  like bitter rhododendrons in cold crystal air.

  Turning, he saw old Captain Clam, and hailed his friend: 1250

  “Thrice welcome! Health and joy! Welcome! There are no ports,

  there’s no more parting, Captain Clam, to scorch our hearts!

  What were our voyages till now on mud-drenched earth

  whose shores constrained us always and whose vile stench choked us?

  With Death for pilot here we sail on shoreless seas, 1255

  in our strong ship of flesh we sail the deathless waves, 1256

  and all we’ve longed for on vile earth sits on our mast

  and warbles to our minds, a golden male canary.

  A thousand welcomes to my crew, my dolphin swarm!

  All’s well! I count and count again, not one soul’s missing! 1260

  Quick with your hands! Unload the great king’s golden camels,

  for I smell figs and grapes, my lads, my memory brims

  and welcomes fruit I’ve loved. Don’t let one small grape fall,

  hang all upon our masts until our hearts revive.

  You’ve twined a spray of basil on my snow-white head. 1265

  I see a blood-soaked lyre that sails the crystal air,

  our Prince
Elias’ armor, and I’ll pluck its chords

  and play Life’s great refrains to keep Death entertained.

  Forward, belovèd forms, small branches of my soul,

  O mind’s starved tentacles, cling to the mizzenmast, 1270

  a strong wind blows once more and our hearts swell like sails!”

  Then their old captain stooped and all his friends rushed up;

  some clutched his heavy hands and clambered swift aboard,

  some gripped the icy slope and climbed up step by step,

  some sat in a closed ring and plied their shadowy oars. 1275

  Rocky enthroned his elephant on the icy prow,

  Krino embraced her bull and pushed him tenderly

  to step on the snow-ship that both might never part;

  on the cold crystal Helen sat, slim-throated swan,

  and Rala fell at the clear body’s frosted feet 1280

  and clasped them with her bloody and mud-splattered hands.

  The seven-souled man then stood upright, hailed his troop,

  caressed the women’s hair, pale Rala’s savage lips,

  the yet still virgin and crisp throat of the child, Helen,

  then softly touched their shoulders, stroked their moldering backs, 1285

  and welcomed his dear comrades in his ample brain

  as though they were huge silent thoughts that wrapped him round.

  He heard hoarse battle cries in his dream-taken mind,

  cool laughter burst and flaming banners flapped in air,

  hands groped to find his hands in sun and to hold tight. 1290

  As his dog, Argus, licked his feet and warmed his legs,

  earth’s hot breath rose and mounted till it reached his heart,

  and as he stretched his empty hands to stroke his dog,

  his crystal frigate shook and swerved in the cold foam.

  He raised his eyes and joyed to see his three great forebears 1295

  tread stanchly on his frozen deck and plant themselves

  in a straight row of three aloft, his ship’s tall masts.

  He wished to speak, but the maids felt his deep desire

  and wreathed the limbs, beards, chests of the three living masts

  with necklaces of pomegranates, grapes and figs 1300

  until the death-ship like a hanging garden glowed.

  The cricket who had perched one dawn on his right shoulder 1302

  as the two chatted and lunged down the road together

  now smelled the figs and grapes, then spread its silver wings,

  clung to the lone man’s beard and burst in rasping song. 1305

  The three great forebears dipped and swayed, the three masts creaked,