The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel

  that it leapt motionless in a great flaming kiln,

  a fire no thorns could feed, where no wind ever blew;

  upright, it stood on strife’s high peak, stripped of desire.

  The lone man gently smiled and hailed his haughty heart:

  “Dear heart, you’ve flown beyond the final labor, Hope. 1190

  You’ve grown serene, all storms have merged within your depths,

  sorrows have piled so high that now they form your joys.

  Where shall you turn, dear heart? Whom shall you speak to now?

  Slowly, in a great hush, you glide in dark like a wild hawk.”

  He stood straight on the cliff as though his feet would dance, 1195

  all his ten fingers tingled, his slim arches burned,

  his body flicked like tongues of flame, and his brain whirled.

  The pilgrims slept, dreams passed above them like white swans

  whose red feet glittered and who sang with open beak

  a strange marauding tune as from another world. 1200

  Then they leapt up from sleep and seeing with great fear

  in dawn’s rose light the dread ascetic standing straight

  close to the cliffside, flapping his bare arms like wings,

  they shook, and in their hearts all felt some bitter news.

  But their flame-swollen leader looked upon the crowd 1205

  and neither pity nor compassion filled his heart;

  he stood unmoving, listening to his fingers dance:

  “There is no master now on earth, the heart is free! At dawn from my right temple the sun leaps in flame,

  sweeps through the great dome of my head all day, then falls 1210

  at dusk in my left temple, swollen with crimson blood;

  stars blaze now in my mind, and men, ideas, beasts

  browse in the ephemeral green meadows of my head;

  laughter and tears throng in my black eyes’ irises,

  dreams flood my brains, and phantoms drown my heart, but when 1215

  the mind snuffs out like a thief’s lantern, all things vanish.

  I kindle fires in fog, I plant bell buoys on waves,

  I cut roads through the air and build all things from chaos;

  my five slave-weavers at the loom of my swift mind

  weave and unweave all life on air’s firm-fibered cloth 1220

  until I cover the whole abyss with a strong net.

  On this I stitch my house, give birth to all my sons,

  entrust the seed of future wheat, hitch up my horse,

  and found my life on mist for a brief lightning flash.

  And when I blow, all vanish, but my heart speeds on 1225

  shorn of all condescension, anger, hope, or pain,

  a small and dapple-feathered flash that lanced the night.

  Forebear, who crouch on the other shore and shoot your shafts,

  with your own blessing I’ve surpassed you and return

  singing at dusk from the mind’s glen and drag with me 1230

  the slain fawn, Hope, with her large weeping eyes now glazed.

  I cock my cap awry, stride singing through the earth,

  and holocausts mount up my hair, a flaming crown!”

  Although the lone man ceased, his blazing body burned

  like bonfires on the mountain’s rim where the stones flashed, 1235

  and his mind, armored like the scorpion, strolled on coals.

  The crowd took fright and cupped their hands against the blaze,

  for on the cliff once more the alluring voice rang out:

  “By the three-hundred-and-sixty-five joints knit to flesh,

  by the three-hundred-and-sixty-five snakes round the soul, 1240

  no master-god exists, no virtue, no just law,

  no punishment in Hades and no reward in Heaven!”

  The lone man burst in cooling laughter like a wild spring

  that suddenly splits the ground and leaps high toward the sun.

  The pilgrims shut their ears and tried hard not to hear 1245

  freedom’s wild voice, or the cool spring that splits the grave,

  for his eyes rolled and glazed as though he’d lost his wits.

  Some laughed with jutting jaws awry, some burst in tears,

  some rushed with stones and staffs, roaring with rage to kill

  at once this herald of a sacred, proud new earth. 1250

  But like a flaming iron that glows to a white heat

  and singes poor man’s lashes, thus the lone man glowed

  on the cliff’s edge so that the crowd drew back in fright;

  unnumbered flaming sword-sharp hands flailed round his body

  and seven crimson heads in tiers flashed in the air. 1255

  When the blaze finally calmed and all the myriad hands

  and seven tiers of heads plunged in the lone man’s mind

  and his bare body seemed its normal self once more,

  he turned and looked around him; not a soul remained.

  Somewhere on the far plains he saw huge dustclouds rise, 1260

  on the lake’s waters gasping oarblades rose and fell,

  and in their panic the crowd left behind tall piles

  of hatchets, wooden clogs, caps, slippers, flasks and belts.

  The foxy-minded man looked at his loot, and laughed:

  “By God, you’d think that freedom was a plague that killed! 1265

  In former days my preening heart would have grown bitter

  if left thus nude on earth without gewgaws or wings.

  Well-met now, desolate wastes! Welcome to both your eyes!

  A thousand welcomes now to savage freedom’s freezing breath!”

  Through his free heart there blew a chaste immaculate wind; 1270

  he stepped on the high peaks of both despair and strength

  and on his mind’s rim broke in dance like a wild eagle.

  The great cry of a grasping bird tore at his breast,

  the ancient wounds upon his shoulders burst in wings

  and his mind swooped and soared within a whirlwind dance; 1275

  nor souls nor stones were told apart in that mad whirl

  till the Earth and the Archer’s flesh were merged like man and maid.

  A lustful hot wind blew, his downy belly glowed,

  the arteries of his body rushed and twined around

  earth’s crust to keep it firm from crumbling down the abyss. 1280

  His Soul hung over the cliff, all phallus and all womb,

  starved for a kiss and cried for males, craved for a kiss

  and moaned for female ghosts to come, then carved on air

  meaningless mystic signs filled full of light, and played

  but with no purpose, from sheer strength and without joy 1285

  because it knew the voice must turn back wretchedly

  to lips that called. His breast’s cave groaned with echoing sounds:

  “I rise high on the shores of time, I shape, reshape

  with water, blood, and sand the adventures of all man;

  as thoughts leap from my brows and fall to earth, they turn 1290

  at once to men and maids and merge in tight embrace.

  Like the smooth tusks of elephants the face of earth

  shines on in sun and rain, and I stoop slowly down

  and fondle it with speechless tenderness, and muse:

  What shall we carve on this belovèd ivory face? 1295

  A murderer’s knife, an eating bowl, or a fine comb

  to gleam on a girl’s raven hair within the abyss?

  On all ten fingertips strength leaps in sweetest flesh,

  and as in his deep gardens a king slowly picks

  what maid to throw his kerchief to from all his harem, 1300

  so do I gaze on all desires, and curb my strength.

  My solitude is cruel today, the air’s too warm,

  I’m weary of being alone, I fear that I shall faint,
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  and this swift terrifying dance unlocks my wits.

  I yearn to see and to be seen, to touch, be touched, 1305

  my heart throbs like a new god’s heart, I pity man,

  I pity him so, I’ll nail wings on his wingless brains

  and cast down all those wicked walls that jail his soul.

  O trees, get drunk and burst in bloom; girls, swell your breasts;

  and you, brave youths, hatch in your minds all your desires— 1310

  life’s but a lightning flash, my lads, and death is endless!

  I gaze on earth and love her, I don’t want to die!

  I gaze on a man’s and a maid’s body, and I shout:

  ‘Fill it with joys and sorrows, daring dreams and deeds,

  raise high the crimson sun and the mind’s soaring kite, 1315

  light up the high head’s magic lantern till it glows!’

  I love to stroll and watch maids at their window sills,

  to see the fragrant smoke arise at dusk from roofs,

  to hear beds creak and crack at midnight in the dark.

  I pass by towns and lands, bless them and shout in air: 1320

  ‘O mankind, joys and tears, warm bodies, O my children!’

  I once saw pallid monks, in the first bloom of youth,

  dressed in black cassocks, who as lustful maids passed by

  and made all earth they stepped on smell of jasmine flowers,

  gather their frocks about them, lower their eyes, and spit 1325

  to ward off every evil eye, and curse the earth—

  I raised my fist on high and roared, ‘May you be cursed!’

  I laugh, give birth, rejoice, gaze on the earth and say:

  This whirlpool earth’s my trusted wife, I love her well!

  Sometimes I turn to cloudbursts in the wild spring rains, 1330

  sometimes to hot midsummer suns, at times again

  to strong male souls and mount her like a bull at dawn.’

  On! Let the heavy beasts awake in memory’s cave,

  let the black forest of the heart growl as dusk falls;

  I dance, and all the tight coils of my head unwind!” 1335

  As the archer leapt and yelled, the earth could not keep pace

  with his swift dancing till it dwindled and cast sparks

  like a shy bride surrendering in a man’s wild arms.

  The soul leapt like a fiery tongue, with longing licked

  the small dark body of the earth that nestled close 1340

  and swooned with sweet caresses like a maiden kissed.

  Earth was swept up, then sprouted in his brain like seed,

  and all she strove, unnumbered years, in old night’s womb

  to turn to root, leaf, flower and fruit, swelled now with leaves,

  bloomed and bore fruit in his wild head, then all at once 1345

  vanished like lightning. Ah, time is bitter and space confined;

  the lone man’s dance shall overbrim, then fall from time

  like an illumined star and vanish in the world’s dark night.

  But as he danced, he held the human short-lived soul

  clenched tight between his teeth for fear the winds might take it. 1350

  When the great dancer had danced his fill, he shrank like fire,

  the burning stones grew calm, the world stood still once more,

  and as he panted, the brain-sucking man could hear

  his blood leap frothing through his flesh from head to toe.

  Like the lithe snake who in wide circles twists and coils, 1355

  delighting in the world from head to tail, just so

  the archer wished to merge in one from head to foot.

  He bent and fiercely bit his heel till his lips filled

  with warm salt blood, and thus his fearful body drank

  communion as he sipped his blood, refreshed, till all 1360

  his strength flowed round his body in full, steadfast rings.

  Man, woman, god, and beast all merged within his blood,

  turned to blood brothers, vanished in swift freedom’s wheel:

  “I’ve no more children, comrades, dogs, or gods on earth.

  May they speed well and prosper, may winds fill their sails! 1365

  Enough! I want their breaths and their sweet swoons no more,

  for I’m all ships, all seas, all storms, all foreign strands,

  I’m both the brain-begotten god and the anti-god,

  I’m the warm womb that gives me birth, the grave that eats me!

  The circle is now complete, the snake has bit its tail.” 1370

  At length Odysseus leapt erect, he cut new roads,

  his heart grew light, his white beard gleamed like grapes in sun,

  and his mind shone like mountain summits after rain.

  As the full-bodied moon stepped lightly up the sky

  and the sun plunged in waters silently to cool, 1375

  the freed mind of the great god-slayer stood between them;

  he felt he tossed the sun and moon in both his hands

  and flung them in the sky like falcons trained so well

  they came when called again, bound with fine golden chains.

  The honey of evening slowly dripped on the cool ground, 1380

  the heart grew tranquil in calm truce with sovereign Death

  till for the lone man freedom was a saddened power

  that crossed her hands and watched all things on earth with tears,

  and wore a wreath of cliff-weeds in her russet hair.

  He passed beyond pride’s arrogance, the drunken rage 1385

  of plunder, each man’s secret week of sin, until

  the savior, saved from his salvation, knelt with awe

  and kissed his mother, Earth, with sweet humility

  and the due homage of a son long prodigal.

  He wandered round her knees and reached to clasp her breasts: 1390

  “Mother, with your large dugs that hang above the abyss,

  I’ve quenched that thirst, I don’t want your right, sacred breast;

  your pure white milk was good, but now I want the black:

  Mother, I reach my hungry hand to clasp your left breast too!”

  XVII

  The pure white rose of silence bloomed, night lost her wits,

  and the great victor brooded in the moonlight’s glare;

  his eyes spread out until they covered all his skull,

  his hands and swift feet multiplied and whirled in light,

  a mystic wheel that gathered speed and could not stop. 5

  Both life and death were twin and two-edged blades that shone

  and tossed in his black fists, shot high in the moon’s glow

  then crossed in air and swiftly plunged like lightning bolts.

  The walls of his head opened and the world seemed narrow,

  his mind grew claws to a span’s length, his wings grew huge, 10

  he changed to man, maid, god, together and apart,

  joy merged with sorrow, good and evil made their peace

  till all within his mid-brows took their ordered place.

  The mind like a black beetle thrust in the earth’s rose

  but held its brains tight, not to faint with fragrances, 15

  and kept its wings high, not to sink in thickening honey,

  then gleaned each drop completely, emptied all the rose,

  and when it finished, its feet, neck, and belly gleamed

  in light, gold-spattered with the flaming pollen’s dust.

  The evening dripped with mild moonbeams, and the night smelled 20

  with the strong peppery scent of blossomed medlar trees;

  the grasses quivered, and in tree-leaves, lightly swayed

  by breezes, eyes of birds bloomed like star-clustered lights.

  Phantoms and men had vanished, leaving as much trace

  as birds leave in the air or ships leave on the sea 25

  and
every moment in the darkness was heard falling

  like honey from an unseen hive that swells in the heart.

  The mighty athlete also drank each drop of honey,

  distilled from varied poisonous flowers, thoughts, and fears

  into a quintessential, thick, pain-killing scent, 30

  each drop immortal, no beginning and no end,

  where past and future, savage time’s two-sided wings,

  were folded motionless and sank in heavy honey.

  “Time has been conquered now and rests in my warm heart,

  trapped like the lovelorn nightingale on flowering thorns,” 35

  murmured the white-haired victor as in his heart’s depths

  he felt his dreadful strife had turned to amorous song.

  Though the world had not quaked or the mind roared, the earth

  changed calmly in his eyes, creation was dislodged,

  and night blazed up like an alluring wild-dove’s throat, 40

  The lone man’s heart was suddenly filled with lilting love

  as though enmarbled snow had melted on high peaks:

  “Go on, my heart, let’s burst in song, this night is good,

  for I was born today, and my small mother, Earth,

  gives of her first milk to her darling first-born son. 45

  Yes, by the twelve fine plumes in the stork’s sacred tail,

  new eyes have raised their lashes, a new spring has come,

  new virtues with strong claws have blossomed in my blood.

  May sterile memory, that most evil stingy witch,

  plunge down to Hades, and may life turn chaste once more! 50

  I bow to my much-traveled blind forefather, Sleep,

  and kiss his hands that fumble till they reach my crown

  to give their blessing: ‘You, my grandson, are the light

  of which I’ve always dreamed. Bud now, that I may bloom!’

  O gypsy Life, with sun-braids, with coquetting eyes, 55

  for years I’ve stumbled in your light, your holy haunts,

  for years been put to shame, hunting your empty shade,

  thrashing my arms with rage, tearing the wild wind’s hair!

  Sometimes you seemed like Beauty, passion-quelling Helen,

  a shadow’s coolness, smell of musk, or the sea’s air, 60

  seductive dancer paid in the ecstasy of drink

  to please our eyes with your adroit erotic tricks;

  at times, when earth embittered me in my full youth,

  you seemed, O Life, like the grass-widow Virtue, sad,

  unlaughing, and I seized my spear to guard you well, 65

  as though you ever cared, O luring siren-song,