how all dogs wag their happy tails, how fish and birds
and muddy worms and hopeless brains sprout brilliant wings,
how all gods scatter through the air like startled crows
to see the pale cadaver leap and stretch his bow!”
Leaning against the lightning-blasted old oak tree 365
the lone man brooded in the wilderness, rejoiced
in his mind’s myriad eyes that sweetly glowed on earth
like constellations; all his life in memory passed
like melodies, his bones became a proud pipe’s reeds,
and all the storms and cares that struck him his life long 370
passed through his body’s flute and turned triumphant song.
That night in the cool mistral and the rare star’s light
he felt the holy taste left in his mind by nights
when he had stretched on earth, rejoiced to gaze at stars,
and each night had its own most sweet, most bitter scent. 375
Far in his native island, at the world’s ends now,
night smelled of musk like a new-blossomed almond tree;
in Crete night slowly passed like a great archoness
laden with pearls, wearing the moon for amulet,
and a nude Negro page held up her flaming train 380
gold-edged and spangled with the glowworm Pleiades.
In Africa, night growled like a tall virgin forest
where stars in darkness mutely glowed with dreadful eyes
as though fierce lions, leopards, tigers lay in wait
while Scorpio coiled and dripped its venom on the world. 385
Sometimes night seemed like a black rose that drove men wild,
and Death like a small honeydrop lodged in its heart;
at times she seemed a heavy-breasted mother weighed
with too much milk, poured for relief through the vast sky
drop by white drop, or in a silent river’s flow. 390
Then the god-slayer’s lips brimmed with the bittersweet
memories of all his nights, until his heart was filled
with precious gold of honeys, poisons, thick perfumes
that fluted in his mind like distant warbling sounds
till from his astral contemplation his huge brow 395
with light and sweetness filled, shone like a smokeless flame
as though it were a full moon freed from life’s desires
and held its light as final loot in brooding thought.
At midnight, black Temptation saw the sacred flame
shine like a golden egg in a tree’s hollow trunk: 400
“The earth has hatched the flame of freedom much too quickly;
I’ll rise and smother it with clouds of heavy dust!”
It spoke, and a small Negro boy sprang from the ground
with carmine-painted nails and gold bells round his throat,
who crawled toward the tree’s bole and held in his plump hands 405
some heavy dust to cast on the lone man’s soaring flame.
But the unsleeping eyes shone sweetly in the dark
and the black startled Tempter slowly backed away
while his soft flattering voice came floating through the air:
“O brimming, deep, and three-decked vessel of salvation, 410
you’ve roamed all the earth’s wealthy shores, you’ve taken all
for your rich merchandise: joys, troubles, gods, and hopes,
all man’s enormous sacred tears of pearl, and now
you open tranquil sails, a fresh wind gently blows,
your midmast sprouts with grape-hung vines, and a small bird 415
sits on its topmost tip, your heart’s a small, small bird,
and friends and foes are dolphins now that bid farewell:
‘Good voyage, brimming vessel of salvation! Go!
The poor ports of our wretched earth can’t hold you now;
and do not deign, O Free Heart, ever to return— 420
it’s sweet to scatter in the dream of nonexistence.’ ”
The full-rigged mind then turned and sweetly smiled in shade,
and the Black Tempter, thus emboldened, crawled close by,
twitched his behind like a court fool, with bumps and grinds,
then boldly stroked the lone man’s limbs with probing hands, 425
and his soft words wove through the air in cunning snares:
“Master, my mind is dazed! I count, then count again, 427
and find all thirty-two of the earth-savior’s signs
still glittering on your laboring and much-suffering flesh.
Look! On the holy arches of your feet, fate’s wheels 430
speed on and drag the cart of joy, the savior’s spoils;
on your unmoving legs all towns and cities whirl;
your thighs with freedom shine, undazed by kisses now;
your quiet phallus grows serene, drained of all passion;
your navel has forgotten Mother and closed its wound; 435
the twelve great labors’ constellations gird your loins;
your breasts are double trap doors where you’ve sealed up tight
all phantoms found in water, earth, or air, or mind;
your heart beats heavily with great calm as though it strikes
to cut the hawser that still moors the earth to God; 440
your shoulders twitch and sprout with soft and fuzzy wings;
the demon of light laughs on your right shoulder blade
and that of darkness on your left; both strive and tug
like two strong balanced wings that cut new roads together;
your brawny arms embrace the earth like a bridegroom; 445
your two wide palms are flooded with the mystic signs,
with eagles, scorpions, lilies, streams, and a large plume
that mounts your fingers’ clefts and plunges down their cliffs;
your flashing fingers meet and part, then swiftly clasp
like five wed couples playing life’s most holy game; 450
your firm throat hammers out the laughter’s thunderbolt;
your teeth, those two and thirty beasts that gorged on flesh,
have been tamed now and meekly crouch in their dark den;
your lips, a sharp and two-edged sword, guard all your thoughts
nor will permit a hollow, useless word to pass; 455
your smile reflects a secret conflagration’s blaze;
and like a salty sea your breath cools all the ground;
your tongue’s a savage flame that leaps and licks all heads
and their great thoughts until they turn to ash at once;
the deepest silence in your ears now turns to song; 460
in your white hollowed temples the light drips in wells
like water in hollows of old rocks, slow drop by drop;
your eyes laugh like a viper’s and allure the cliffs;
your eyebrows like a fine scale slowly weigh all deeds
and keep them neither overbold nor overprudent; 465
between them looms the third, rare, superhuman eye,
a rapturous yet hopeless moon, until earth’s crust
flutters like a most flimsy dream-embroidered veil;
your brow’s a lofty flint which when the hammer strikes
sparkles with thoughts that pour like stars in the dark night; 470
your veins flow on like rivers in your holy head,
water the gardens of your brain, turn your mind’s mills
and bring down mud to nourish our salvation’s seed;
your tall crown shines, a temple filled with clustered lights;
your face is water plunging down the cliffs of death, 475
it flicks with myriad features, laughs, then sweeps to chaos;
your voice is deeper than the lair of a slaked lion;
and in the mighty lighthouse of your head’s high peak
th
e guard of sleepless silence shines like a gold casque.
O border-guard, I thrust my temples in your skull; 480
in greatest vertigo, deep in the whirlpool’s heart,
I feel the savior’s final and most mighty sign:
your great mind does not move but knows that all things move!” 483
Salvation’s leader heard the Tempter, but kept silent;
he felt the black hands grope him stealthily, he heard 485
laughter and bitter wails, voices that rose from earth,
huge hidden wings and souls and tongues that licked him clean.
Flinging his black hands wide with fear, the Tempter cried:
“The savior’s two-and-thirty signs glow on your flesh,
and as the crescent moon holds in its shining keel 490
and lightly licks the dark remains of its old form,
so in your cupped hands I discern the old black world.
Serenely now, with no desire, or grief, or hope,
draw back the bolts of nonexistence, and escape!
You are earth’s first-born son, you were the first to drink 495
of freedom’s deathless water till you quenched all thirst;
life has no higher peak, no greater bloom to grant.”
Thus did the cunning Tempter speak, and when he rose, 498
the lofty pointed cap with its star-tassel shone. 499
The border-guard turned sleepless eyes and rested mouth 500
on the black Tempter, and the great woods also turned:
“Ah, old arch-cunning comrade, my mind’s ancient cloak,
you’ve not dared to expose the deepest brand of all;
my mind has climbed earth’s highest peak and knows this truth:
‘I am the savior, and no salvation on earth exists!’ ” 505
The playful Morning Star of freedom laughed, the ground
hissed like a snake, and the Tempter suddenly disappeared.
The warrior, stripped of all hope now, smiled on his mind:
“Your great impatience scattered the black lord of guile
before his ears took in the greatest final task: 510
erect on freedom’s highest summit Laughter leaps!”
He spoke, then closed his eyes, folded his soul like wings,
opened his arms to the low stars, and sank in tranquil sleep.
The cooling flame of freedom wrapped him like a cloak,
life and death sweetly merged as though he gently held 515
jasmine and April roses till their fragrance mingled.
He gleaned within him double joys of man and god;
in the same luscious meadow, dreams and firm flesh browsed,
his hands rejoiced in fondling all the upper world
and yet his mind rejoiced to scatter it far and wide. 520
His backbone then began to play like a long flute:
“My house is azure atmosphere, the stones are clouds,
my two town gates are sun and moon, the rafters dreams,
and in my mind’s green pastures all thoughts graze like flocks;
my slaves, the gods, stoop low and fetch me fantasies 525
and in my fingers glow the castle’s keys, the flame!
Freedom ascends like smoke and holds up the whole world,
my children are the lightning’s flash, the winds, the seas,
and death is a bitten apple, an infolded rose
which I press to my chest till my mind faints with fragrance. 530
The hornet has lost his pain-packed sting, his yellow goad,
and flies on my white-flowered head, a downy moth;
joys, glories, virtues, griefs are freed from venom now
and drift like springtime clouds above my hoary head.
All in my brains distill to quintessential pith, 535
a puff of blue-green smoke, the secret of the world.”
Thus did his dream play through his long bone-flute, and all
which in his waking hours he strove with toil to gain,
played in his sleep like sound and passed like lilting song.
The suffering athlete’s soul and his mud-rooted flesh 540
were drenched at night with dreams and fructified with sleep,
and when the great sun struck and woke the world, he smiled
in secret softly now with sweetly rested eyes,
played joyously in the azure downy air-frontiers
that part deep sleep from waking, and then lightly swing 545
with no enigmas on the clear mind’s topmost bough.
Gently and sweetly the dream merged with cool new sounds
that rose from the green mountain slopes and swept his brain.
Was it a shepherd who led lambs till the slopes swayed
or were more dreams arriving with their myriad bells? 550
For hours, with lashes closed, enraptured, he rejoiced
in the bell-jangling waters tumbling down his brain,
and when he slightly raised his eyes toward the great din
vast elephants came plodding through his dream-brimmed orbs
with multicolored lanterns round their necks, bronze bells, 555
tall golden towers on their backs with giggling girls,
nude men that gleamed in light and mounted up the slope.
Then flaming, regal, yellow banners flapped in air
and in their midst there loomed an old white elephant
with tiny golden gods that danced and jangled round its neck. 560
A bitter prince had come with his rich caravan,
laden with incense, feathers, slaves, and fruit, to climb
the sacred mountain slope at break of dawn and fall
prone at the ascetic’s holy feet to heal his soul.
A ghoul had mounted him, an evil wind had struck him, 565
his heart was coils of deadly snakes, his mind was caged
like a blind thrush within his skull and sang of Death.
He quailed to see black Death in hovering air above him
and scorned to live much longer in such shameful fear;
winecups of gold and maids in bed he left untouched, 570
his great ring cut his finger like an unhealed wound,
women danced naked round him with their tambourines,
his blind bards sang like nightingales to ease his heart,
and through his open portals his fragrant gardens strolled.
God gave him many gifts but left his mind a wound, 575
till all at once the prince cried out with anguished pain
for in deep-shadowed air he saw rose flesh decay,
dancing-girls turn to skeletons and clack on tiles,
lipless and throatless blind bards stare and gape in sun!
All of the multicolored bridal veil of flesh 580
turned to torn rags and vanished in thin air until
only the coarse white bones and the plump worms remained.
He cupped his face within his hands and softly sighed:
“I won’t look on the sun’s bright face much longer, God;
I’ll take a thin, thin silken thread and slash my throat!” 585
But then his faithful slave knelt down and raised his hands:
“O prince, a great ascetic broods on a high peak
and holds within his hands all gods and all disease,
he also holds that secret dwarf who wounds your heart.
All night he blazes on the mountain cliffs like fire 590
and all day in his holy hands he plays with clay,
shapes gods, then blows and scatters them, shapes men,
blows once and gives them soul, blows twice and knocks them down.
Thus does the lone man spend his time, and laughs because
he has surpassed the mist of groveling cares or frowns 595
and now stands upright in the mountain sun, and plays.
Great prince, I’ve sent three envoys on swift feet to bring
br /> the great ascetic here with pleas and precious gifts;
the lord of your salvation, prince, should soon be here.”
Then hope like gentle dawn poured in the prince’s heart 600
and he armed precious caravans to meet the saint:
“It’s only right that pilgrim-princes fall with musk
and wail at the ascetic’s feet and kiss his knees
for he’s the decoy-bird of spirits, the king of air;
I’m king of muddy loam and he of azure sky— 605
prepare my caravan that I may soon adore him!”
Three days they crossed field after field, three nights they stretched
beneath the stars with their exhausted elephants,
and when they reached the foothills, an aroma poured
from the sweat-streaming hermit like a rutting beast’s. 610
The prince glanced at the mountain peak and his heart failed;
it seemed to him a blazing iron struck by the sun,
that sparks streamed down its rugged slopes, that the air shook.
The king’s son signaled to his servants without a word
and then the caravan stopped at once, the maids jumped down, 615
and the slaves cleared a space and pitched his golden tent.
“It’s only right before we gain the holy peak
to wash our hands and feet and to refresh our minds;
let the great spirit strike, we shall be pure and washed.”
He mumbled with his bitter lips, then called aloud 620
for his old faithful slave who’d held him in his arms
since infancy, and the old man bowed in the gold tent:
“Ah, faithful slave,” the young prince sighed, then burst in tears,
and the slave touched his master’s knees with trembling hands:
“O Prince Motherth, you’ve reached the holy mount, don’t fear! 625
The earth has changed, the sun’s grown mild, the elephants dance,
white birds swoop to my right, and my unerring heart
feels that all time has bloomed, that your salvation’s ripe,
and that oblivion with her torpid poppies comes—
ah, there’s no greater good on earth than to forget.” 630
But the prince raged and stamped on earth with his slim feet:
“Let slaves drown in oblivion’s muddy brains with fear,
but a great prince confronts all things both night and day
without a slave’s low fear until his mind matures.
Motherth, don’t shirk a prince’s great responsibilities 635
but weigh all things on earth with clear, unfearing eyes.
Hold well in mind those three almighty messengers