for justice or injustice or the joys of men!
One dawn as I gleaned the mind’s loneliness in vain,
I heard the seas, the heart, the earth call me for help;
God called in greatest peril, and I rushed to build 70
a head for him to hide in, town in which to sleep.
Forgive me, Life, if I’ve so stupidly pursued
such gaudy plumes as whence we come and where we go;
I’ve squandered years in hunting what I thought firm flesh,
your three great shadows: Beauty, guileless Virtue, Truth; 75
but may these wanderings, too, be blessed that in good time
brought me to your nude body cool as warbling water.
If I were young, I’d bind a kerchief round my head
to keep my brains from spilling after too much love;
if I were old, I’d weep in silence as I reached 80
my hands to fumble at your firm crisp breasts, O Life;
but now we’re met beyond old age or lustful youth,
beyond all tears or kisses, time or space, within
the ephemeral deathless throbbing of the human heart.
Well met, integral Freedom! We are both well met! 85
Naked, stripped bare of gods and plumes, with the cool dew
on my mind’s cockscomb, I lunged down from mountain strife
and you rose high from billows, glittering in the sun,
the salt stars quivering on the fringes of your hair,
till we both merged within the moment’s deathless shore. 90
All dark partitions crumbled then, those ghosts, those thoughts,
those sterile virtues which disjoined our amorous flesh,
till in thick heat I fell and lapped you like cool water,
and you, too, sucked my stinging blood with yearning gasps.
We rolled on the wet beach, tight-clasped and drunk with love, 95
lips glued to lips, eyes staring in each other’s eyes,
till we both climbed intoxication’s four tall steps:
wine’s ecstasy, God, love, and star-eyed liberty.
On the sheer crags of brimming strength and full despair,
on the high peak of drunkenness and laughter’s bloom, 100
arise, O Life, and play! Earth’s a good threshing floor!
My guts are filled with souls, my mind is filled with flesh.
What would you like—a wedding pomp on mountain slopes
that Orpheus leads, or armies with torn flags that fight
and slay each other for our sake in the sun’s blaze? 105
Or would you like a large town spread amid the plains
where blue smoke puffs from roofs, where doors open and close,
where children scream and women laugh, dogs bark, and all
the crazy hubbub of the city spills in sunlight?
All bodies are but ghosts of dew which the mind swells; 110
they meet, they clasp, they part, they raise tall clouds of dust,
then all at once the mind grows bored, and the world clears.
Rise up, Dame Life, give me the sign and choose your toy!”
Midnight and heavy solitude: a leaf would now
and then detach itself in silence, slowly drop to earth 115
like a dead falling star, a disembodied heart,
a cricket that on stones stopped chirring when it found
its sweet companion and rejoiced in all it longed for.
The full round moon at zenith poured upon the beard
and the white-haired, well-sated chest of the god-slayer; 120
had gypsies seen him then, they would have seized a sledge,
mistaken him for tin and pounded him to bits;
had shepherds seen him then, they would have spit three times
to exorcise and drive away a ghostly ghoul;
and had girls come, they would have screamed in the moon’s glow 125
to see the old god Priapus lure them on with wiles,
and each in dream would suddenly clasp her lover in her arms.
The ascetic smiled, and three slim maids sprang from his lips:
“Ah, Pearl, Caresse, here’s an ascetic by the cliff!
He sits cross-legged, he beats on stones and shouts in air.” 130
“Ascetic? Where? I see but sticks in the moon’s glow.
Sisters, let’s set these twigs on fire and save their souls,
for in moist logs the fire smothers, wails, and shouts:
‘Ah, Pearl, I’m choked in these black logs! Ah, set me free!’”
“I see two eyes that gleam beneath a pear tree’s shade, 135
amorous and despairing. They lure me and shout, ‘Come!’
Sisters, farewell! Is this a jar or child I hold?
No water-well exists, no mother, father, home,
for all have sunk deep down and drowned in those black eyes.”
Then the wing-shepherd called, and an old wizened man 140
fell from his mind to the hard ground like a dry leaf:
“Who called? A strong voice seized my nape with gripping hands,
pummeled me heavily on the ground and blocked my way.
I swear I’ve given birth, I’ve built, I’ve tilled my fields,
I’ve filled my yards with sons, gods, grain, domestic beasts, 145
plowed land and women well. I’m tired now, let me be!
There’s no oil left in these old eyes, my lamp’s gone out.
Who holds me back? I hear a voice, and grope with fear.
Ah, here’s a heap of bones that wails on the cliff’s edge.”
The great mind-reveler sighed, his longing filled with flesh, 150
and the slim dancer in his mind leapt down the earth:
“I see a marble threshing floor and a tall spear
with gold canary wings and lofty rooster plumes,
and on its tip a woman’s blond hair flaps in sunlight.
I washed, dressed in my finery, donned my golden breastplates 155
to guard my bosom well, then rushed to find my king.
What king? Within my mind a great voice cried out, ‘Dance!’
What shall I dance? There’s flaming air above my head
and flaming air beneath my feet; if I but slip
I’ll plunge headlong to Hades like a falling star. 160
Some call me woman, others call me dance and war;
I’m that unmoving mind between the earth and stars
that loves to play and think up women, dance, and war!”
Then the proud victor scowled with rage and knit his brows
till great battalions fell to earth and weapons clashed: 165
“We’ve moored by a great castle, lads, where banners flap
in crimson, black, and yellow on high battlements!
Push on, lads! Cast your scaling-ladders, seize your arms!
Both life and death are good! Grab what comes first to hand!
What joy to toss life like an apple high, and play!” 170
The heart-seducer blinked then with his cunning eyes,
and a lass, kissed in secret, slid from her low hut:
“Belovèd, when I hear your rustling in the reeds,
I lose my wits as though a young man touched my knees,
and now they leap in the moon’s glow like man and maid; 175
my eyes have never seen a sweeter night, my dear,
nor is there bird can sing so sweet as now my heart;
my maidenhead longs to be plucked like a ripe apple.”178
When the sly merchant thought of gold, long caravans
like subtle shadows skimmed on sands before cockcrow. 180
Dear God, what spiced aromas, what bright birds and slaves
sprang from his heavy head and spilled along the ground!
“Hey there, push on! Why do the camels stop midway?”
“I won’t push on! Before me lie huge castle gates.
&nb
sp; Horsemen dash by full-armed, serfs plod with heavy loads, 185
here blind and maimed and leprous beggars shove and shout.
Brothers, we’ve come to a great city, rich, unknown;
spread out your wares upon the ground, let the world gape,
strip the slaves naked for the market, wash their hair,
let heralds scatter, beat on every door and shout: 190
‘Ladies and landlords, rise! The caravan’s come, be quick!
Put gold now in your palms, bring all your lambs to market,
select your spotless daughters quick and sell them dear!
Lucky the eyes that see us, the feet that come in time!’”
Then a white elephant sprang from the ascetic’s mind 195
and from its broad arched nape a slave’s voice leapt and cried:
“Bold, long-lived king, how dare I say it? I’m afraid!197
I’ve pled with our white elephant, I’ve stroked him gently,
I’ve raised my whip and flogged him, but he still won’t budge;
he flaps his ears and twitches his fat wrinkled hide, 200
for a huge conflagration, king, blocks all the road!”
“Fetch water, fall upon it, put it out, I say!”
“All your three-hundred-and-sixty-five most trusted slaves,
master, have fought in vain to blot it out since dawn,
but water only soaks and kindles it like oil; 205
it sparks with human speech, I don’t know what it says!
It laughs like a gay dream when touched, but it won’t burn,
yet when you try to pass, it rears like a mad snake.
It must be an ascetic who dwells in flesh of flame!”
“It must be an ascetic who cools his soul in fire. 210
O faithful servant, hold my beast, let me descend
to bow with humble awe and worship his great grace.”
The ascetic’s mind then flapped its wings like a proud cock
till the air filled with brides and grooms, in-laws and lambs:
“I see boards strewn with sheep and wine and brimming bowls, 215
old nurses fan the flushed bride in the nuptial room,
next door the fat groom puffs and pants, and his thighs sweat,
brothers and cousins fetch full trays of fragrant meat,
aunts fill the jugs with wine, dilute them secretly,
and young men cock their caps awry and maidens swoon; 220
then the doors open, the bards come and strike their lyres
till all toes start to jig upon the straw-strewn floor.
This is a good time, brothers, to unsheathe your flutes;
strike hard the tambourines, let the drums take the lead,
let the white bear cub dance on the wide threshing floor. 225
The groom looks affluent, lads, we’ll fill our bellies soon!
Get up, thrush-pregnant minstrel, swell your throbbing throat,
marshal your homeless mind from the high mountain peaks,
make of your fantasy a flame and start the song!
The bride’s thin braids are like a mouse’s scanty tail, 230
her hands are pestles, she’s pig-snouted and popeyed,
but you, O mythic minstrel, rise, give her new birth!
Make her a tall cypress tree, slim as a switch,
plant curly basil leaves on her bald pate, raise high
your hands to the sky and then bring down the sun, bring down 235
the full moon too—ah, don’t be stingy, friend—and hang
them round the new bride’s shriveled throat until the groom
grows giddy, spills his wits and opens his purse wide!
Dream-poet, sing her charms, don’t be ashamed, we’re starved!
Tell her: ‘At your great wedding, O thrice-noble maid, 240
may mountains turn to oxen, snows to finest flour,
the seas to sweet white wine, all ships to drinking bowls,
and waves to swift racehorses which your in-laws mount and ride!’”
As men and women sprang from soil to hear the spells 244
that echoed from the mind-ravines of the soul-snatcher, 245
an inexpressible love and secret pity seized him:
“The blade of my despairing mind plowed in a flash
through earth, and the soil filled with souls, and bodies moved
in new-plowed furrows like white, black, and crimson worms.
O my dear people, frail blue smoke, toys of my brain, 250
green quivering phosphorescence in moist river glens,
warm bodies, smiles and tears born of the mind, my children!”
The contours of his features shone and pulsed with light,
the night was sweet, fragrant the silver-woven air,
and as he watched their hands, their feet, and their weak bodies 255
that toiled all day with the hard soil, all night in bed,
a profound pity filled his mind; he shut his eyes
and gently stroked within his arms his daughter earth
till a great longing rose high in his throat and lips
to cast them simple, satisfying words, like meat. 260
A tender and sweet voice was suddenly heard:
“My children!”
Within the full moon’s webs, the souls in anguish tossed
like night-moths to escape those nets of gossamer,
and the ascetic’s eyebrows squirmed like snakes that hissed
and coiled on the rims of his dark eyes’ sunken wells. 265
The phantoms staggered back in fright and clung to rocks,
paralyzed, gaping, watching in the moonlight’s glow
how the great body blazed now like a burning rock.
Its myriad faces rose and fell and flicked in air;
at times proud stalwart men or ancient codgers flashed, 270
at times fierce leopards reared their tails and licked their lips,
then suddenly all the faces vanished and a voice
rang out in light, most bitter and most sweet:
“My children!”
Slowly the neck turned flesh once more, the mouth took shape,
and the lone man distilled again from the world’s ends. 275
The phantoms scattered terrified, the camels vanished,
the old white elephant grew savage and pushed back,
Pearl and Caresse melted like mist, the peddling thieves
scooped up their merchandise and scuttled off like hares;
only the dancer stayed and leant her heavy locks 280
above the chasm until the whole cliff glowed with light;
beside her stood an old king with his golden ring,
a forty-footed warrior, a young singing prince,
and a robust slave smelling of the stable’s stench.
The many-faced man spread his hands most tenderly 285
and felt his five dream-mortals formed on the firm ground
as though he’d brought five plowmen to plow up the earth,
five dappled oxen yoked to pull his daring dream.
He laughed profoundly till his sword-lips reached his ears,
then slowly to his mouth set his funereal flute, 290
a human shinbone which an ancient hermit once
had placed into his hands as votive farewell gift,
and played a plaintive lullaby, a luring song,
and the five mortals stretched on earth and lost their wits,
the hinges of their minds creaked, double doors burst wide, 295
and thoughts walked into ancient gardens, deep and dark.
Voices have bodies, too, and words have flesh; it’s true
that laughter, tears, and sighs, movements of every kind,
are male and female, all, and merge in empty air.
A flute, made of a dead man’s bone, makes all things drunk; 300
the wine-bowl of the holy night spilled at the brim
a
nd the five heads filled full and splashed on the wet ground.
Then the pale maiden sighed, and as she raised her head
and shut her eyes, she blushed and mused in secret thought:
“Your words, ascetic, seemed to me a gallant youth 305
who smears himself with fragrant oil after his bath,
then strolls at dusk with a red rose hung on his ear
as pale maids from behind closed shutters spy on him
and their hearts break: ‘Ah, might I only bear his child!’”
The dancer sighed that night and yearned thus for a son; 310
it seemed that the young singer heard her yearning sigh
deep in dream’s flowering gardens, and his sad heart bled.
Dear God, to lie for a brief hour, before he died,
in his beloved’s lap! Then let the world go hang!
The young man brooded on the maid and softly sighed 315
till dewy heavens like a vine hung in his head.
The old man glued his eyes on the moon’s brilliant blaze,
recalled in silence his lost youth, his empty life,
how he had heaped his virtue’s tower with silver and gold
although his nights lacked love and his days gallant deeds. 320
As he leant toward the grave, he cursed at virtue now,
that scandalmongering hag with her untouched shrunk dugs!
Dear God, if he could be a wretched youth once more!
The stalwart warrior lay on earth, a sated lion,
beside him the slave sighed and quarreled with God because 325
God loved the archons only and held slaves in scorn
nor cast them a brief kiss or crust of bread for comfort.
Their eyes and brains thus fluttered breathlessly
as on the cliffs of sleep they muttered to themselves
while the soft luring sound flowed from the lone man’s flute 330
and softly, slowly filled their ravished ears with song.
For the first time Death seemed to them a tranquil sleep
and life a blossomed honeysuckle hung in chaos
where the dreams perched at dawn; thrice-welcome nightingales
entwined in honeysuckle spray, and poured their warbling song. 335
PRINCE: “Ah, Mother, I can’t sleep, my bed won’t hold me now!
Dear Mother, shut the windows, close the shutters tight,
I’ve never known a night so sweet, for my heart melts.
A nightingale is singing in a flowering shrub
and my throat chokes with blossomed trees and thorn-hedge smells. 340
Ah, might I only die and my brains sink in soil!
But ah, the earth is good, I want to live, though not
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