her rosy-ankled foot on the pale ivory sill,
the palace’s foundations creaked and the walls cracked.
It was as though fate’s thralls had made a mystic pact,
as though they’d waited for the kiss’s secret sign 890
to march their armies from afar and zone the castle.
Thoughtful and foiled, the old king sat enthroned and clicked 892
his virtues one by one on holy amber beads:893
“Dear God, I haven’t killed, or thieved, or shamed my bed,
I have not touched the ascetic’s child, though my heart breaks; 895
why do I dread your wrath or fear to face you, Lord?”
Then to God’s mocking laughter all the palace rang:
“They think to hunt the tiger, Me, with wiles! What shame!
They think they’ll catch me if they set good deeds for traps,
but I’m a tiger, not a ghost; I’m starved for meat!” 900
God roared with laughter, plunged, and joined the other camp.
Moons bloomed and withered hot suns rose and fell, and still
a cruel invisible murderer pushed the frenzied hosts
and made them strive with fierce assaults to breach the walls;
but the king’s only son, wilting in shade away, 905
tightened his stubborn lips and at his father glared:
“May you be cursed, old man, who keep my loved one locked
nor let me see her, till my mind’s forever numbed.
May your skull burst to bits and your walls crash to dust!”
The king kept silent, wearing on his hoary head 910
his virtue’s bitter olive wreath with pride; the slave
hung all his hopes on balsam Time that heals all wounds
nor knew that old man Time himself has his own master.
Odysseus wiped his flute, then leant against a rock
and watched his five slack dancers tottering on their feet 915
as once again the mills grew weary and fate ground slow.
Then the swift-minded man leapt from the rock, erect:
ODYSSEUS: “I brace myself and kick the Wheel of Fate! Whirl on!
Let old men drool, and let the dead be patient still;
we have no time, our hearts beat with sledge-hammer blows, 920
the iron is white-hot now, and life is brief, most brief!
Let generations flick in sun like lightning streaks,
let all trees flower and rot in a brief flash on earth,
let kingdoms in one day rise like the sun at dawn,
climb swiftly to mid-heavens and finally fade at dusk. 925
Let life’s wheel also whirl as swiftly as my heart,
let the young man cry out and the maid rise in sun,
let me cast love with her red ankles down to earth,
let wretched people fall like brushwood in the hearth,
let all that take long years to bloom last not one hour! 930
Come forward, faithful slave, appear, come bring the dreadful news!”
SLAVE: “O king!” OLD KING: “Don’t spare me, slave! Speak bold and clear!
This heavy heart no longer aches; give it no thought.
I know my army has turned tail and scurries back.”
SLAVE: “O king!” OLD KING: “Don’t hurry, slave, my heart has turned to stone.” 935
SLAVE: “O king, your army’s lost! It’s faded away like mist!”
OLD KING: “Don’t moan. An ax can’t cleave what fate has foreordained.
Thank you, my God! Ah, you’ve repaid my service well!”
SLAVE: “Master, I’ve never feared, but my heart trembles now.
Their fierce king falls on us with his vermilion feet 940
and treads our skulls as the grape-treader treads his grapes.
When their steeds dashed at daybreak and the highways roared . . .”
OLD KING: “O faithful slave, be still, I wish to hear no more.
Sages, be still! See how I’ve thrived on your advice:
the holocaust is my red crown, and grief my harvest; 945
a hard hand rules our fate, and to resist is shameful;
hide from before my face, I’m weary of this world,
it’s rotted like a fruit in sun, it’s filled with worms,
and only you remain, my only son. Come near me now.
O God, hear my complaint, my one unbearable shame: 950
you’ve given me an only son, who won’t—for shame!—
take up his arms to fight the foe and save his race!”
PRINCE: “I’ve sworn not to take arms or to protect the town
until you smash your jail and give me my belovèd.
Stretch out your hands, old man, and choose! Write down your fate: 955
I hold your kingdom in one fist, the maid in the other!”
OLD KING: “I fling my arms to heaven and swear a mighty oath:
I’ll not draw back the bolts, you’ll never take the maid!
I hold a soul as grieved as yours! Fate’s will be done!”
PRINCE: O wild winds, blow, scatter his castle’s ashes far, 960
may his white beard be steeped in blood, may all his wealth
be blown to the world’s ends, and may his kingdom fade!”
SLAVE: “Master, the field’s aflame, battalions press us close,
the foe has zoned the city, and the frenzied crowd
rush to burn down the palace with red flaming brands!” 965
OLD KING: “In your dread hands, O Lord, I see a wreath of flames.
O slave, what do the people want of my red crown?”
SLAVE: “Master, the people charge you with a heavy crime
because you hold our dread ascetic’s only daughter
deep in a dungeon’s pit unjustly, with no cause, 970
and now the ascetic’s soul has risen and cracked our walls.
Set her free, master, loose this sorceress on the foe,
she’s stronger far than armies for with her white hands
and her caresses she can kill the foe’s fierce king.
The crowds complain you smite them out of stubbornness; 975
do what they wish, don’t let one soul destroy them now.”
OLD KING: “The moment every man’s conceived, a worm is born 977
and crawls on past all fields and peaks to eat him whole!
The same thing happens when a town or a whole world’s
conceived, and now that our own city’s worm crawls close 980
here on this plain, not even God can change our fate.”981
SLAVE: “Master, I hear the dungeon’s bronze bolts crash and fall!”
OLD KING: “I hear the flesh fall from my soul, and mist from mind . . .”
SLAVE: “Master, they’ve smashed the bolts, they’ve pulled the dungeon down
and brought to light, unshackled, the great ascetic’s child!” 985
OLD KING: “All things are smokes, shames, fancies of the burning mind.
Run swiftly, slave, bring me the maid, for fate speeds on.
Make keys and counter-keys, O heart, bolt yourself well
and say this was a lustrous dream, that the cock crowed,
that life stripped off its golden clothes and turned to air.” 990
SLAVE: “Master, here at your feet I place the slender maid;
she can bewitch the cycling sun, cast down the moon,
and bring the foe to utter ruin in just one night;
open your eyes and mind, command your sacred wish.”
OLD KING: “Life’s a red lightning flash; I walk in its bright glow, 995
I’ve seen all things, I’ve no more hope or fear, I’m free!
Death is a long, long feather that I hold aloft.”
PRINCE: “Welcome, midwinter sun, O welcome, bright new moon,
a thousand welcomes with your cool arms, maid I love!”
OLD KING: “Ho, seize my son and cast him
in the iron pit! 1000
Alas, maid kissed in stealth and stealthily made pregnant,
undress yourself and glow on earth, unbind your hair,
kneel at the date tree’s holy root once more, and weep.
I quiver in your lime-twigs, bitch; your spells have crazed me,
but I am old and graceless—go to the fierce king, 1005
tell him that you’re once more alone, that you fear beasts,
and when within his tent you clasp him in your arms,
here, take this poisonous knife and stab him through the heart.”
MAID: “Dear God, time has its twists, and now my turn has come.
My body is my security, my breasts are shields, 1010
and I shall bring you in my pouch the fierce king’s head;
your castle trembles, and one kiss will make it firm,
but I, too, seek a costly recompense, O king.”
OLD KING: “Speak up, maid kissed in stealth and stealthily made pregnant,
but weigh your words well, don’t ask what my heart can’t give.” 1015
MAID: “I stretch my white arms at your castle gate and beg:
master, come out, give me for alms your only son.”
SLAVE: “Wake from your nightmare, master, exorcise these spells;
a murky darkness, monarch, chokes your lustrous soul,
but don’t forget that you are king, and the world’s crown.” 1020
OLD KING: “Oho, this whore and her beast-womb long for no less
than our one son, our throne, the earth, our head and crown!
The body is a ship that scuds with full-rigged sails
on deep dark waters frenziedly to find its doom;
the soul of man is a lightning flash, a gust of wind.” 1025
SLAVE: “O master, give her what she wants! It’s our last hope!”
OLD KING: “Lady, I’ve rooted up my heart! Take joy of him!
I rip the regal crown from off my whitened hair
and place it like a coal of fire about your head.
We crawl from fire to fire on earth, and thus proceed; 1030
between two towering, blazing pyres we dance and weep,
nor does death pity us, nor does life want us now.”
SLAVE: “Master, don’t weep; no matter what it says, the soul
can bear all the world’s worse, most bitter decadence;
the whore heals all shames swiftly and grows young again.” 1035
The old king mounted silently the day’s watchtower
and saw streets burst in bloom where the young maiden passed;
a strong and fair wind blew and swelled her crimson gown
and flowing tresses like a pirate ship full sail;
a spark set out, increased, and swiftly sped across the plain. 1040
Then the god-slayer raced his tune till his flute danced,
for he, too, saw the maid walk with seductive step,
and blessed her from his heart and gave her his advice:
ODYSSEUS: “Don’t be ashamed now, paint your lips and shake your hips,
you’re not just any common girl, no harbor whore, 1045
you are unhaltered fate speeding with silver sandals!
Don’t ever condescend to say, ‘I pity man’;
leave pity to slaves, and fainting spells to ugly maids.
O Fate, flame speaks now in our breasts with her long tongue!
Our soul contemns compassion, justice, goodness, truth, 1050
nor cares for virtues or ideas, men or gods,
they’re all good kindling-wood, and hunger gleans our soul;
go with my blessing, pay your whole debt with a kiss.”
He spoke, and the proud maiden blazed, lit all the plain,
looked on the troops as kindling-wood, looked on their king 1055
and coiled thrice like a viper, like a small, small bird
in his deep armpits and his heart’s audacious core.
The twilight sauntered past, the mountains crawled in darkness,
all fountain sources moved, beasts thirsted, the earth smelled,
and as the warrior-king tossed in his lustful bed 1060
dawn broke and all wings woke, trees laughed with rose-red smiles,
the sun first struck upon a sparrow’s flinty head,
and when the king raised his dark lashes, his bed glowed.
A woman’s words in bed have great world-shaking power,
and the mind-archer smiled, tamed his delirious flute, 1065
then placed his whorled ear close against the bedside’s rim.
WARRIOR: “May the cock never crow, may daylight never break!
Lady, I’ll gather nutmeg pods to pelt you with;
never before have I known flesh so poisonous sweet;
I wake, but honey drips still from my thorny beard, 1070
I live and hold you on my chest as in a dream;
lady, why didn’t you raise your hand to kill me then?”
MAID: “Sleep took you gently on my breast at break of day;
there you smiled meekly like a babe with curly hair
and mumbled softly as your bare chest rose and fell, 1075
as though a childhood dream were fluttering in your mind.
You are a mighty warrior smeared with hair and blood,
your muddy knees and your black fists still smell, still reek
with women’s sour embracements in a slaughter’s din,
but when I marveled at your sleeping like a babe, 1080
for the first time I felt a mother’s palpitations.”
WARRIOR: “And I smiled secretly and kept a sleepless watch;
I knew that if I slept you’d slay me in my bed—
I found your poisonous blade hid in your crimson sash,
and also your wide pouch where you would thrust my head. 1085
When by the tree I saw you nude, coiled like a snake,
your slant and beckoning eyes, your thighs that steamed with lust,
I sniffed the assassination well, but unperturbed
I took and laid you on my bed of lion-pelts.
I know all snares of life, and plunge with open eyes! 1090
Then I began to kiss you sweetly, and God flashed.
As thieving sleep took me a moment on your breast,
I dreamt I burned in cinnamon and laurel boughs,
drenched with rose-oils, and flared up in a roaring blaze
till on your fragrant bosom, lady, I turned to ash. 1095
But see, I’ve wakened and still live, you still rejoice
in my thick nostrils, in my hairy hands and feet.”
MAID: “A woman’s breast is like a drunkard’s country, filled
with wings and demons which the hunter hunts at dawn.
When from the tree you raised me, my eyes throbbed with fear, 1100
I’d never seen such rough, repellent ugliness,
but when you smiled, a chasm suddenly filled with flowers.
As though we two were old and trusted friends, you told
me all your joys and sorrows, opened all your heart,
nor asked me whence I’d come nor what I sought of you. 1105
Belovèd, dawn has broken; I worship this great day,
for you shall spring full-armed and crush the castle! Rise!”
WARRIOR: “You are my falcon, lady, with vermilion claws;
I don’t want now to take their castle with my troops;
let them but give me your sweet hand like a red rose.” 1110
MAID: “You smile, and in your eyes I see the cunning noose;
come, place a new-slain head in my wide pouch that all
their narrow castle gates may gape to let me through,
and when in jubilee they’ve emptied all their walls,
fall on their battlements, my dear, like a starved lion.” 1115
WARRIOR: “Within a drunkard’s land, upon a woman’s breast,
I’ve hunted
many times at night before dawn broke,
but never before have I rejoiced so much or feared
as now when in my hands I hold such flaming prey.
I kiss your hands, your feet, my dear, your crisp cool breasts. 1120
Behold, your pouch shall brim with a new-slaughtered head:
I see your lily feet already blooming in crimson blood!”
ODYSSEUS: “Ah, I no longer want to watch cock-pheasant man
with shriveled brains, with flimsy plumes stuck on his head,
crowned with a dappled cap! I blow, and fate speeds on! 1125
They’ve decked their town with laurel boughs, burst all the kegs
till wine spills out like blood and dulls their languid eyes;
the wretched king sits on his throne and lifts his hands.”
OLD KING: “Thank you, all-holy God, your soul aches for this world;
you filled my cup with bitterness to test my love, 1130
my soul distills to pure gold in your blazing kiln.
Forgive my sins, Almighty, that for a brief hour
my heart grew faint and mouthed most bitter words, while you,
all-knowing Father, held my salvation in your hands.”
ODYSSEUS: “Of what salvation do you dream, on what God shout? 1135
Earth hangs, and light coils like a noose about her neck.
Lift up your eyes, the whole plain moves now toward your town,
your stables weep their horses, and your palace weeps
its kings, your golden garments weep your flesh and bones;
your trusted slave, bowed low before your foe’s red feet, 1140
surrenders the town’s silver keys on a gold tray.
Enough, my grinding’s done, and my millwheel has stopped;
the smell of deadly camomile intoxicates the air.”
SLAVE: “O dread, O long-lived king, here are the castle keys!
His palace smokes in ashes, his streets sail in blood, 1145
for with no spirited resistance or complaint
our old king stretched his tender neck, and here I hold
his white head in your pouch. Shackled in dungeon irons,
his only son was burned in the town’s conflagration,
and here’s the small, small heap of ash his body left.” 1150
WARRIOR: “God holds each soul, weighs each dram well in careful scales,
nor does he love, or feel compassion, or need friends,
for God entrusts his fate to the most strong alone
with stern commands to rule the world without compassion.
Where’s that untamed sweet beast with female breasts who spread 1155
her lily hands with love and gave me king and castle?