The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

  and the plates steamed with double portions of choice meat. 1010

  Town elders lay stretched out in pride on fat sheepskins;

  with pale, exhausted faces and with bloodshot eyes,

  some looked like dogs or foxes, some like bony mules.

  Holding their lyres straight on their knees, the mighty bards

  grasped them by both curved horns like bucking animals 1015

  and led the old and new tunes in their heads life flocks

  as their minds picked and chose amid the noisy fold.

  The people cast themselves down by the fuming boards

  while servants cut the roast, mixed jars of wine and water,

  and all the gods flew past like the night-breaths of spring. 1020

  The chattering female flocks sat down at farther tables,

  their fresh prismatic garments gleaming in the moon

  as though a crowd of haughty peacocks played in moonlight.

  The queen’s throne, softly spread with the white furs of fox,

  gaped desolate and bare, for Penelope felt ashamed 1025

  to come before her people after so much murder.

  Though all the guests were ravenous, they still refrained,

  turning their eyes upon their silent watchful lord

  till he should spill wine in libation for the Immortals.

  The king then filled a brimming cup, stood up and raised 1030

  it high till in the moon the embossed adornments gleamed:

  Athena, dwarfed and slender, wrought in purest gold,

  pursued around the cup, with double-pointed spear,

  dark lowering herds of angry gods and hairy demons;

  she smiled, and the sad tenderness of her lean face, 1035

  and her embittered fearless glance, seemed almost human.

  Star-eyed Odysseus raised Athena’s goblet high

  and greeted all, but spoke in a beclouded mood:

  “In all my wandering voyages and torturous strife,

  the earth, the seas, the winds fought me with frenzied rage; 1040

  I was in danger often, both through joy and grief,

  of losing priceless goodness, man’s most worthy face.

  I raised my arms to the high heavens and cried for help,

  but on my head gods hurled their lightning bolts, and laughed.

  I then clasped Mother Earth, but she changed many shapes, 1045

  and whether as earthquake, beast, or woman, rushed to eat me;

  then like a child I gave my hopes to the sea in trust,

  piled on my ship my stubbornness, my cares, my virtues,

  the poor remaining plunder of god-fighting man,

  and then set sail, but suddenly a wild storm burst, 1050

  and when I raised my eyes, the sea was strewn with wreckage.

  As I swam on, alone between the sea and sky,

  with but my crooked heart for dog and company,

  I heard my mind yelling with flailing crimson spear

  upon the crumbling battlements about my head. 1055

  Earth, sea, and sky rushed backward; I remained alone

  with a horned bow slung down my shoulder, shorn of gods

  and hopes, a free man standing in the wilderness.

  Old comrades, O young men, my island’s newest sprouts,

  I drink not to the gods but to man’s dauntless mind!” 1060

  All shuddered, for the daring toast seemed sacrilege,

  and suddenly the hungry people shrank in spirit;

  they did not fully understand the impious words

  but saw flames lick like red curls round his savage head.

  The smell of roast was overpowering, choice meats steamed, 1065

  and his bold speech was soon forgotten in hunger’s pangs;

  all fell to eating ravenously till their brains reeled.

  Under his lowering brows Odysseus watched them sharply:

  “This is my people, a mess of bellies and stinking breath!

  These are my own minds, hands, and thighs, my loins and necks!” 1070

  He muttered in his thorny beard, held back his hunger

  far from the feast and licked none of the steaming food.

  Soon from the abundant meat and the unwatered wine

  a sweet mist crept upon the crowd and dulled their brains

  until the armless sprouted arms, the crippled legs, 1075

  and eyes sank secretly into their hollow sockets.

  The moon slid like a man between each woman’s thighs,

  sat on the knees of each youth like a lustful wench

  and sailed with laughing face within the purple wine.

  In heat that night for the first time, a young girl felt 1080

  her small breasts rising in her open blouse amid

  the fragrant shade, and eyed the young men secretly;

  a sweet knife cut her heart remorselessly in two.

  Kentaur, big-bellied dragon with a twisted tail,

  turned up his wineskin to gulp down the final dregs, 1085

  and Orpheus rode astride his huge friend’s fatfold nape

  and with his thickly smudged and wine-besplattered face,

  his shameless, mindless mind, his spluttering, stuttering tongue,

  talked grossly with old men and teased the ripening girls;

  all necks turned backward toward the sky like gurgling flasks. 1090

  But suddenly the piper stopped his stuttering squeaks

  and his loud-mouthed and impish throat dared mock and prod

  the palace bronzesmith who with his long golden curls

  sat feasting by himself apart, bolting his food.

  He pointed to the blond curls round the sooty face: 1095

  “Hey, here’s a riddle! the reward’s two salted herrings:

  even the charcoal pit’s brought forth pure golden earrings!”

  The bronzesmith leapt with wrath, reached with his calloused hands,

  and as a cricket splutters in a wildcat’s paws

  so did the cross-eyed singer shriek in his black grip. 1100

  Fat-buttocked Kentaur bawled with rage and raised his fist;

  blood would have flowed had not the elders filled the breach

  and soothed the crude beasts in the grove with gentle words,

  but then the piper had lost heart and his voice choked.

  All overate and overdrank, brains reeled in air, 1105

  men felt their black-fringed kerchiefs tightening round their heads,

  the women’s headbands tumbled and slid down on their backs,

  till their smeared hair with oil of laurel berries glowed.

  An old man eyed his wife: she shone as on that night

  when he had first besieged and ripped her breasts thin veil; 1110

  the young men eyed the girls and could not breathe for longing;

  a heavy suffocation weighed on the rich feast,

  maidens and adolescents, like two armies, paled,

  and the men’s pointed dogteeth gleamed with lust in the pale moon.

  Then the chief minstrel rose, the oldest in the land, 1115

  who in the cradle had sung the archer lullabies,

  and every throat grew sweet at once, all hearts grew light,

  all ears pricked up with greed to hear a new refrain.

  He leant his body on a plane tree, and his beard;

  shone in the limpid moon like a tumbling waterfall; 1120

  then slowly he began to sing of their courageous king’s

  far childhood years, and the dumb crowd gaped rapturously.

  “Friends, a deep longing seized me, lest I suffocate,

  to sing a rousing wine-song to adorn this feast

  and welcome thus our king, new-come from foreign shores. 1125

  Like a great master-shepherd, owner of many flocks,

  who stands straight by his sheepfold and selects with care

  his fattest ram to slay at his best friend’s reception, br />
  so did my mind rise up to count its flocks of song.

  Our minds rejoice in admiration of a good man 1130

  when his full-flowering body knits and first bears fruit,

  or when, grown old, he sits like God in the market place,

  his head a heavy honeycomb that brims with honey.

  Lads, there’s no greater joy here on this desolate earth

  than that of the minutest seed the plant lets fall 1135

  which with its roots grasps earth and with its head grasps light

  and in its passing crumbles rocks and cracks the hills,

  and I shall sing this night of that most small, small seed.

  The king’s grandfather and I, stretched out on lion-pelts,

  enjoyed the setting sun from the high palace terrace, 1140

  and like the ancient gods grown old, we reached our hands

  and drank sweet wine, and watched the sea to its far rim.

  Just as the sun in blood-red waves stooped to expire,

  a pain unbearable began to crush the old man’s chest,

  and nurses ran and brought, wrapped in gold swaddling clothes, 1145

  his precious grandson, lone support and consolation.

  O king, he raised you like a burning coal in light

  and said: ‘Your plowman father wants you to plow land,

  and sings you lullabies in fields, rolls you in ruts,

  but I plunge you in waves: may you become a pirate! 1150

  Your father gives you toys of plows and earthen ox,

  but I give you bronze armies and two-bladed swords

  and six toy pairs of deathless dwarfish gods to play with.

  Ahoy, my grandson, grow up quick and resurrect me!’

  Then your old grandsire laughed, jounced you on his right knee 1155

  and on his left struck at the savage lyre and sang

  the monstrous troubles and vast joys of all mankind;

  and you, clinging with your plump hands about his neck,

  listened, and in your mind bloomed azure foreign shores

  till your still tender loins were drenched with sea-swept brine. 1160

  One night on a high tower your old grandsire and I

  sat sipping wine, bidding farewell to the afterglow,

  and our four temples burst their bolts from too much wine;

  our souls soared from our bodies, shadows reeled, rooms shook.

  Then arm in arm we dashed and reached the women’s quarter; 1165

  I’ve not entrusted this to any man: tonight I tell

  a deep dark secret of the three great Fates that blessed you.

  The lampsteads in the corners dimly glowed, and all

  the nurses slept there on their soft warm mattresses;

  your old grandfather rushed ahead, his beard flashed fire, 1170

  and his white hair fell down his back in waves of light.

  He longed to see and touch you with his rugged hands,

  for as we’d perched like two humped eagles on the tower,

  we’d seen three shadows swiftly dash into the palace:

  ‘Surely those are the Fates,’ he cried, ‘the Three Great Graces! 1175

  Quick, let’s defend the royal seed asleep in its cradle!’

  But as our eyes discerned your small shape in the dusk,

  our hollow knees, O king, gave way and shook with fright:

  three savage dragons hung, like swords, over your head!

  And I, who night and day consort with gods and demons, 1180

  whose mind like a high threshing floor corrals the winds,

  I saw in the dark and recognized those three great dragons.

  First, like a topless cedar tree by lightning seared,

  Tantalus stood, forefather of despairing mankind;

  with vulturous claws he tore at his voracious chest, 1185

  uprooted his abysmal heavy heart, stooped low,

  and wedged the graft deep in your own still tender breast;

  your cradle blazed as though your entrails had caught fire.

  The middle Fate then raised its awesome brow, and I

  with trembling recognized Prometheus, the mind’s master, 1190

  who in his wounded hands, that softly glowed, now held

  the seed of a great light, and stooping over your skull

  gently unstitched the tender threads, and sowed the seed.

  Then the third dragon lit a fire and threw for kindling

  huge looms and thrones and gods to swell the unsated blaze. 1195

  Your grandsire roared and rushed up with his spear, but I

  seized him in time, held tight; and whispered in his ear:

  ‘Hold on! These three great Fates are gifting your great grandson!

  That dragon with the red locks of a lion’s mane 1199

  is Heracles, that iron sword, that famous athlete.’ 1200

  Stumbling, the old man grabbed a column, mute with awe;

  and when the soaring conflagration licked the roof,

  the dragon seized your infant form, flung it in flames,

  and you flushed crimson, rose like flickering tongues and leapt

  to the gilt beams and fluted with the singing blaze. 1205

  The whole night through you laughed and played, refreshed in fire,

  and we, struck dumb, rejoiced in your salvation’s wonder,

  embraced each other tight as our tears flowed in Streams.

  The first cocks suddenly crowed in courts, and the great dragons

  scattered like clouds and vanished in the downy air of dawn.” 1210

  Silent and stooped, Odysseus listened and bit his lips;

  his mind was far away on desolate seas and caves,

  and when the bard had closed his skillful lips, at once

  the archer leapt up, dug his nails into his seat

  till the gold goblets on the table tipped and spilled. 1215

  His voice roared out with heavy mockery and hot rage:

  “To my great shame my hair has whitened, my teeth loosened,

  but I still squander my soul’s strength on worthless works!

  You’d think I’d plundered the whole world with sated fists,

  nor knew of further seas to cross or men to meet, 1220

  and, full of pride, moored in my native land to rot!”

  He spoke, sat down, then cast his baleful eyes about

  as though the whole crowd were a nightmare, a bad dream.

  The people turned to stone, their cups hung in the air,

  and the old archons, sitting by their angry king, 1225

  felt his hot breath like sulphur flowing through his nostrils.

  The guests thrust frightened heads between their shoulder blades,

  and the carousers cowered, smothering in the plane-tree grove,

  but as the hawk of anger passed, they raised their heads

  and filled their winecups and their empty veins once more. 1230

  Big-bellied Kentaur laughed and roused their fallen spirits:

  “Turn poisonous cares away, let fate bring what it may!

  Eat all your oxen to the bone, gulp down your wine,

  and steal a breast stroke on the girls, for life is short.

  The black cock soon shall crow, and death shall dawn too soon.” 1235

  The piper then took heart and stuck his oar in too:

  “My friends, now here’s an elegant verse for you to hear:

  ‘To eat, drink, sleep, and love: this is the life of man!’ ”

  Then the much-suffering archer fell on meat and wine

  and like a starving giant began to eat and drink; 1240

  his bloodshot eyes grew small as in his mind he raved:

  “Wise bard, you don’t know who my oldest forebear is!”

  Within his bowels he felt his wild forefather move,

  a monstrous hippopotamus who step by heavy step

  rose from thick mud to sun himself-high in the heart. 1245
br />   The revelry continued till the break of day,

  the stars grew milky in the sky, the torches paled,

  the light trees rustled in the early breeze of dawn,

  and in their nests the fledglings flicked their wings and raised

  their small round eyes to see if the red sun had risen. 1250

  Then the king rose, the people scattered, the lyres ceased,

  packsaddle mules were spread with brilliant woolen rugs

  on which the giddy peasant women sat and swayed.

  The old men took the road, leant on their crooked sticks,

  but had no heart to sleep now, for their tipsy minds, 1255

  carried away by too much food and drink, gave birth

  to lies and truths indifferently, just as they chanced

  to fall from rosy clouds of dawn and roadside trees,

  and thus the fabled myths of fabulous Odysseus

  were born and grew like dragons in the daze of dream. 1260

  Far up the road the green youths cackled like hoarse cocks,

  for each held secretly within his wine drenched arms

  rose-breasted Helen in a downy cloud of dawn.

  They were all young and beardless, ignorant of love,

  and sang sweet, sentimental, amatory songs: 1265

  “Strike me, my brother, and I’ll strike back, fight and I’ll fight!

  I’ve lost my wits to a white breast, to black black eyes.

  Mother, O Mother, the bitten apple, my sweet bride, 1268

  I saw her by the seashore, gazing far out at sea,

  and her breasts shared a foreign air on foreign waves— 1270

  they’re snow without the snow, and rain without the rain!”

  As, like a silken thread, the crowd climbed twisted paths,

  Telemachus in wrath stalked toward the castle keep

  with his two snake-slim hounds to right and left, alone,

  and thus provoked his father in his guileless soul: 1275

  “My eyes once smarted, sire, to watch the barren waves;

  ah, had my fate decreed that you should not appear!

  Now that you’ve come, may you be cursed, may other waves

  soon sweep you to the world’s far ends of no return.

  You set all minds on fire, you plague man’s simple heart, 1280

  you drive the craftsman from his shop, uproot the plow,

  until the country bridegroom wants his bride no more

  but longs for travel and immortal Helen’s arms.”

  The archer meanwhile passed the plane grove, slowly sloped

  down toward the morning shore and breathed the salty sea. 1285

  Gliding along the harbor with its slim caïques,