The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

  Man’s sweetness tamed once more his rash improvident brain;

  some in their hunger roasted lamb on the palace embers, 465

  some with the court dames kissed on the still smoldering ashes;

  body and brain got drunk, only the castle-wrecker

  scorned to surrender his firm soul to headstrong joy

  but like a lion climbed a salient rock, stretched out,

  and with unsated eyes swept the whole town below. 470

  The bloodstained sunset dyed all homes with crimson rays,

  all doors were bolted hurriedly in narrow lanes,

  and quivering bodies ran like ants on cobbled stones.

  Silent, the castle-wrecker hung his head far down

  the crag, and then his heavy jaw broke in a grin; 475

  his eyes flashed fire until he felt his mind made one

  with the hard walls of his burnt skull and burst in flame,

  a lime-kiln where whole cities sank like kindling wood.

  He sat down cross-legged then and spoke to his calm mind

  as two old friends will talk astride their ambling steeds: 480

  “Dear friend, I think we’ve earned our wages well today;

  I marveled how you chose amid those craven mortals

  and slew them calmly with no wrath or false compassion;

  now here unstained with blood you came as from a wedding

  and shone!—by God, it seems to me you even sang!” 485

  His vulturous mind then laughed and croaked in a harsh voice:

  “Your hands, ears, eyes, and nostrils shoot like a good archer

  straight to the bull’s eye of the flesh—how can I flee them?

  It’s true, I sang with joy an ancient rousing song:

  ‘Dear God, if only earth had stairs, if sky had rings! 490

  If I could climb those stairs and grasp those iron rings

  I’d kick the earth away and shake the sky with quakes!’ ”

  Although the castle-wrecker’s heart with pity shook,

  he gave no sign but challenged his bold mind with calm:

  “You fool, don’t think you’ll make me sweat with your old threats! 495

  Like it or not, I’ll follow you, I’ll push even further!”

  But his mind laughed, then like a hedgehog spiked with grapes

  from rolling in a vineyard, coiled in the archer’s skull.

  A youth from far spied him convulsed, crouched on the crag

  like a young maid in childbirth, and with pity cried: 500

  “Look, brothers, see, his bloodstained thoughts have not yet calmed!

  I can’t make out his features, yet I feel a heat-haze

  sizzling about his temples like the sun’s corona.

  I fear his mind’s grown wild and bristles with sharp thorns.”

  But his friends curled their glutted lips with cunning craft: 505

  “Brother, how can the wildfire in his roused heart die

  since after so much blood he’s not yet kissed a Woman?”

  They spoke, then rounded up five crisp young girls, and drove

  toward their great leader that the male in him might cool,

  but he frowned wrathfully, until the young men roped 510

  the girls like gaudy partridges and slowly went away.

  In the sun’s afterglow, Odysseus glimpsed the girls

  like fuzzy peaches through the trees, and growled to think

  how many times he’d shamed his mind with suchlike fruit.

  His mind now barked beyond such women and such joys. 515

  “Ah, Captain Clam,” he moaned, “we never shall meet again;

  all that we’ve said or done together, all that we’ve planned,

  our tears, our joys, I clasp now to my chest like coals.”

  He suddenly saw in smoke, upon the highway’s mound,

  stooped messengers ascending slowly toward the castle, 520

  then stretched on the tall crag and held them in his eyes.

  Two young men trudged before and six old men behind,

  barefooted, weaponless, roped tightly like low slaves.

  “They’ve come to beg for mercy,” mumbled the man-killer,

  “hoping with tears and gifts of gold to touch my heart. 525

  My gypsy heart may grow serene or spurt with flames

  and finish off with scorn what wrath has left undone.

  O lion-heart, I set you free, do what you want!”

  They came within a stone’s throw of the crag, then stopped

  with hanging tongues, as though they sniffed a lion’s stench. 530

  The youths held disks of gold, the old men bread and salt,

  and their bold leader held a bronze bare-breasted goddess

  with a thick rope of rush wound thrice about her neck.

  But as they walked in single file along the road

  Odysseus sprang on his high rock and yelled out, “Eh!” 535

  At once they hurriedly took to heel, scattered in fright,

  then looking everywhere on high and seeing no one,

  slowly took courage, gathered, and approached once more,

  and the sly archer calmed his features and crouched low.

  They laid their votive gifts on the earth, then raised their hands: 540

  “If you are evil spirits, we’ll slay five slaves for you,

  our best and plump ones, that your bellies may eat well;

  if you are good souls, then we’ll sacrifice for you

  frankincense, psalms, clean entrails, and good works;

  but if you’re men like us, here’s women, wine, and bread.” 545

  The archer laughed, then to the messengers stretched his hands:

  “Your jaws are chattering so, I can’t tell what you’re saying!

  Glory to God, I’m not a spirit, but only flesh,

  I’m made of thick brains and strong bones, and walk the earth!

  Speak straight and clear! I only hear that manly prayer 550

  which like a huge fist breaks my head against the stones.”

  A thin-haired elder fell then on his knees and cried:

  “Here are the city keys, they’re yours! Here’s bread and salt

  and our sweet goddess that you’ve roped with a slave’s noose.

  All these are yours, O master! Take them! Our souls are yours! 555

  We ask but one thing only from your dread palms: Peace!”

  Their backs broke out in sweat as the archer mocked in scorn:

  “I’m not a god of comfort, friendship, or good cheer,

  I hold no meat pot or winecup to cheer your hearts.

  Who holds a sword is tempted, who has youth must play, 560

  he who does not fear death on earth does not fear God.

  Eh, ancient archon, stop your crying, don’t lick my feet!

  Peace is the daily food with which our holds brim over,

  the stench of home, of honor, life, of farms and vineyards . . .

  Oho! You make me sick! Pounce on them, leopard soul!” 565

  The heralds heard his cry and scurried down the stones

  and as they turned to look back, their eyes blinked with fear;

  the old men saw a tall flame flickering on the crag

  and the young men saw Death, barefooted, clothed in blazing light.

  Odysseus burst out laughing, sat cross-legged again 570

  with joyous and light heart, his tense throat now unlocked,

  but suddenly felt deep hunger, clapped his hands with joy

  and yelled out, laughing, for a loaf of dark wheat bread.

  His friends were roasting lamb on the hot palace coals

  and the sweet-blooded Holy Harlots with bare breasts 575

  already had forgotten the pale palace youths.

  Virginity blooms anew and new embracements open!

  Three-deep, the Holy Harlots began their snaky dance

  on the warm tiles that warped like dry leaves in the bla
ze,

  and cackling Kentaur took the lead, waving a wineskin, 580

  while at the tail-end stumbled the smoked, drunken piper,

  a striped cat that had singed his fur close to the hearth.

  But the musk-nourished dames, with torn disheveled hair,

  hung stooped with fear on the blond strangers’ hairy thighs,

  and their tears mingled with their thick cosmetic paints. 585

  Rocky leapt up, for he had heard his master’s cry,

  grabbed a huge chunk of bread, strode through the burning ruins,

  laid it with care by his unmoving master’s knees

  then turned and left him to his wild seclusion there.

  Odysseus turned his ears toward the far sea and heard 590

  the tramp of myriad feet on harbor streets, storm clouds

  of screeching maids and children thronged on crowded wharves

  with their hands stretched to flee on the dark desolate waves,

  and his mind gaped, unslaked, to hold their vast lament.

  Feeling his hunger pangs, he reached his hand to eat, 595

  but all at once his open fingers froze in air,

  for a huge locust with taut feelers, fully armed

  had sunk his thorny feet deep in the bread’s hard crust

  and glared at the archer wrathfully with crystal eyes.

  Then the man-killer felt his knee-joints snap with fear, 600

  and gliding slowly off the rock, he-crouched on earth.

  The locust in the dim dusk seemed like a green Death

  that swooped to take possession on his crust of bread.

  “The bread’s all yours! Devour it, take it, I don’t want it!”

  the archer yelled, then looked about him, light of heart. 605

  For the first time he had felt fear, though seen by none.

  Leaning his head on earth like stone, all unawares,

  he fell asleep, and a dream swooped on his dazed mind:

  It seemed he tightly grasped a black and shaggy flower,

  a beast, an octopus that spread its tentacles 610

  on fist, on fingers, then ascended slowly upward

  and ravenously ate his hairy arm, dark flesh and bone.

  “The Spirit!” he cried in terror, “the Spirit”; then leapt with fear,

  and his right hand hung down his numb side, paralyzed.

  He smiled, and knew that Death had beckoned him from far 615

  and sent him as a gift that dark flesh-hungry flower.

  “This scorpion, this black heavy flower suits me fine

  to hang above my ear when the world sings my deeds!

  Ah, good housekeeper Death, you think that my ant-mind

  had sprouted wings with pride when this great castle fell 620

  and send me this black messenger to keep me humble.

  Ah, black mole, I too send a crow for messenger,

  and a long letter, burnt in each of its four corners. 623

  Death, castles do not fool me nor does plunder shake me,

  my mind is firmly in the saddle and won’t fall; 625

  I’ve thrown the castle behind me now, and drive straight on!”

  He spoke, then laughed as by coincidence he saw

  at the same moment a black crow fly toward the south,

  the messenger, you’d say, who seized his letter and flew on.

  He shook his arm to make the blood flow in his veins, 630

  then turned to find his friends, to touch mankind once more,

  to eat bread, take a sip of wine, make his mind human again.

  His friends had eaten, danced, and kissed, and now they lay

  at ease to hear a ragged blond bard sing a song

  accompanied by a horse-skull lyre hung with bells. 635

  All demons of the earth and sea adorned its rim

  and from its chords the blood of slaughter dripped, still warm.

  The archer first seized bread and meat, began to crunch

  his food like a wild bull to give his body strength,

  then stretched out and rejoiced to feel the jolting song: 640

  “Don’t make too much of it, my lads, don’t overboast

  because you’ve spitted one poor castle like a quail

  and think that you’ve subdued already man’s proud heart.

  Tigers have piled tall castles of bone, then stretched inside

  like landlords, glutted to their ears with prey, while high 645

  on the bone-towers both blond and black hair flapped in the wind.

  The sea, too, has her calm, and though she spreads her arms

  around earth’s shores, they hold her, and she plays with sand;

  even the swelling fire calms down when it has eaten;

  but the heart of a strong man, my lads, can find no comfort. 650

  A secret kiss can’t tame it, wine can’t make it drunk,

  nor can a god fragment it with his lightning bolts,

  for always it holds its tail erect and whips the earth.

  Death looks upon it and his green eyes pop with fear,

  he lifts his foot and stamps it deep in the damp earth, 655

  but it pokes through the ground again and rears its neck.

  It’s not a snake to be attracted by sweet tunes,

  for it’s the heart that leaps on loam and strolls on cliffs,

  then crouches, huddled deep in mankind’s breast, and eats.

  When God made earth’s foundations and spread out the seas 660

  and blew and raised the winds till the world came and went,

  he called all living things. They came before him, trembling—

  fish, birds, and savage beasts—and the Creator said:

  ‘Ah, my brave gallants, I’ve shaped the upper world at last,

  I’ve armed it with roofs, doors and roots, I’ve planted groves, 665

  I’ve taken mud, and with my breath shaped mortal forms,

  but now I’ve bathed and sit enthroned to admire my work.

  O slaves, your daily wage begins—before you scatter,

  stop quaking, and bow low to my world-shaping hands!’

  The tigers stooped and licked his knees, the eagles closed 670

  their wings and sang like water blackbirds at his feet,

  and elephants came and rolled and jigged like fat court jesters,

  all creatures proffered him their grace with flattering wiles:

  wings, furs, bright dappled tails, birdsong, tall horns, and musk,

  the while their master, chuckling, sat and preened in sun. 675

  Oho, my lads, how shameful this great world would be

  if in that hour man’s heart had not jumped up with pride!

  The Old Man frothed, unfrothed, stamped with his stubborn heels,

  but man’s heart rose up mockingly and hissed in sun:

  ‘I’ll not bow or surrender, I don’t like your world!’ 680

  The Old Man swooned, and his awed slaves ran to revive him:

  ‘Cursed be that hour when I begot you on earth, O heart!

  Why don’t you like my world, you crack-brained crazy fool?’

  The viperish heart puffed up but held his venom back;

  the time would come when he would fling it at the sky 685

  but now he held back, spoke not, and heard out the curse.

  This is my curse, you rebel: may you sink in earth,

  may you lie sleepless and never say “I’ve had my fill,”

  and may you strike with a small hammer night and day.

  Build, if you can, a new and better world yourself!’ 690

  God had created man but now he bitterly repented

  and raised an earthquake, rolled his eyes, and all beasts cowered;

  but the heart rooted in a manly worker’s chest

  and hammered away with spite and love deep in his bowels.

  The dreadful battle began, my lads, hammer and anvil! 695

  Outside our chests the Old Man
growls and strikes with terror;

  whatever the heart has found by day he wrecks by night,

  though we build bridges, he sends storms and knocks them down,

  we raise frail butterflies of freedom in our minds

  but the Old Man like a huge millstone grinds them fine; 700

  then we create, for consolation on vile earth,

  with sweat and tears, our shapely daughter, pure-eyed Virtue,

  but he swoops down and drowns her in her tender years.

  Brothers, to arms! for a great darkness chokes the earth;

  I say that day will dawn—would I were still alive— 705

  when both our gods—without, within—shall come to grips!

  And then, my lads, joy to that man who’ll still be here

  to throw his cap high in the flaming air and give the signal!”

  The man of seven souls leapt in the star-haired night

  to hear the sounding minstrel call him secretly— 710

  his inner God, too, called, and in a heavy shade

  held two black frothing horses for an early start.

  Earth shrank, and the man-slayer rose and longed to flee,

  his eyes were crystal magic, and the cranes of fate

  flew slowly by with dappled birds astride their wings. 715

  “Rise, coward, for life flows on; rise up, the road is long!”

  Thus raged the heart, and sharply spoke to the sated men:

  “Dear friends, you’ve had your fill of food and kisses now;

  great is that joy which treads upon a crumbled castle

  and roasts it like a partridge on the hearth of freedom, 720

  but it’s a greater and more difficult good to plunge

  to the near shore once more and hear the oars of flight

  beat foaming in your mind like two enormous wings.

  Rise up, man’s heart, that the whole world may rise with you!”

  Broad-buttocked Kentaur shook and tossed his wine-soaked head, 725

  Orpheus heard the winds of freedom blow straight through

  his flute and fill it and his hollow bones to bursting,

  and the two mountain comrades raised their craggy heads.

  Flames, wine, and heady kisses were sucked deeply down

  in the dry well of memory, as all four drew close, 730

  lighthearted, to the archer’s loudly throbbing sea-breast;

  Hardihood only squatted on the stones, unmoving.

  Then the quick-tempered solitary raised his voice:

  “Rise up, O bronzesmith, it’s high time to rule your land.

  Gird on the heavy keys of earth, like a good landlord, 735

  wring your mind dry, confine with laws the unjust and just,