who’ve blocked your golden elephant’s victorious road.
Gaze always on that sallow man who froths in spasms! 639
Gaze on that rotting old man’s corpse that fouls the soil 640
and drips its eyes, ears, mouth to earth like pus. Alas,
he marched through life like a bold youth—behold his end!
Clasp like a scarecrow in your brain that youth’s pale head
supine on a white pillow, drowned in stifling flowers,
whom four pallbearers quickly whisk away in dread. 645
Blessed be that dreadful day when I first saw these three! 646
Life is a huge unfolding flower, and Death its fruit.
A prince must always raise the dreadful secret close
to his clear eyes and hold it like a mirror there
and in his own face gaze upon the whole world’s face. 650
The body is a lustrous thing and smells of musk,
its holy head is made of ivory, precious, proud,
with myrrh-washed curly locks, with carmine-painted lips,
and there the foul worms crawl and munch! O faithful slave,
come close and answer me: Will not one soul be saved? 655
Will these large lustrous eyes turn into lumps of mud?”
The poor slave shook to see his master’s doe eyes brim
with tears and slowly streak his newly painted face:
“O long-lived prince, it’s a most monstrous crime to lift
the holy veil of Mother Earth and spy her shame. 660
It’s only just that we should spring at break of day
like wheat stalks, with no cry or curse, and then toward noon
sprout with a gold head full of seed until at dusk
we softly fall once more on the clay threshing floor.
Not one soul can be saved from the worm’s fragile mouth! 665
It’s proper that a prince should understand this law,
accept it proudly with no stumbling steps and march
with head held high, a leader, toward the lower world;
let all his people spawn to save the seed from rot.”
But then the sad youth shook his pale head bitterly: 670
“Why should it live? Why should the seed of man be saved?
Why should we breed our children for Death’s bottomless mouth?
O slave, who bend your wheaten head to the sharp scythe,
now raise your eyes and look in mine, give me reply:
How shall we ever conquer that black butcher, Death?” 675
The faithful slave raised his head high and his eyes shone:
“By spawning swarms on swarms of children, long-lived lord!
When the exhausted father falls to earth and rots,
let sons and daughters hang behind him in thick clusters;
first flood your courts with grandsons and great-grandsons, prince, 680
then only may you draw Life’s flimsy bolt, and leave.
Mankind’s deep bowels are not easily emptied, prince,
for like the fish’s entrails, filled with eggs and milt,
all our own bellies, hearts, our armpits, breasts, and sides
and our dark heads brim full of daughters and strong sons; 685
only in this way, prince, may mortals vanquish Death.”
But the exhausted prince of earth cried out with grief:
“Deep in my loins I hear babes kicking to leap out,
to eat and drink and turn to good lean cuts for Death.
We are but fodder sent to earth for the worm’s food. 690
Dear slave, it’s time for mankind’s heart to find repose, 691
for earth’s grim slaughterhouse to crumble, where they herd us
like votive beasts and deck our throats with crimson ribbons. 693
O true slave, do you weep? Don’t kiss my rotting hands!
Behold, for on my weary head Death is my golden crown!” 695
The gold tent gaped abruptly and a guard rushed in: 696
“Prince, our first envoy has arrived, and gasps for breath!
He holds the great ascetic’s face carved out of wood!”
Then the old herald fell prone at his master’s feet:
“Prince, in my hands I hold the secret of the world! 700
Your heart shall now grow gay, your soul shall find its balm!
I saw the great ascetic play by a cliff’s edge
with all the gods as though they were a baby’s rattle.
Then I stooped low and marveled, seized a block of wood
and carved out the ascetic’s laughing baby’s face; 705
now, prince, I place the infant in your holy palms.”
The king’s son seized the sacred mask with pallid hands
but as he gazed on its gay features, his mind whirled:
“This can’t be the ascetic! I see a giggling babe,
its tender new-cut teeth still drip with mother’s milk 710
and a crisp red carnation dangles from its ear!”
Then the old herald kissed the prince’s feet and cried:
“For days and days I fixed my eyes in light, and watched—
he crawled on all fours like a babe on the cliff’s edge,
clasped by his ancient wet-nurse, Earth, the thousand-dugged. 715
I longed to approach and tell him of your great request,
but though I strove three days, I could not take one step.”
The gold tent opened and the guard once more rushed in:
“Master, the second herald’s come and gasps for breath!”
A stalwart man fell, shuddering, on the golden mats: 720
“I give God thanks that I’ve escaped and come in time!
I saw him, master, on the cliff, and my heart stopped:
his armpits steamed, his black beard glowed, and when he spread
his arms, I thought the wheel of the vast world had rasped.
Three days he buckled on his arms, but to no end! 725
On his left side he seemed to weep, but on his right
to brood, and seen full-face he laughed till stones crashed down.
I perched on a high boulder, grabbed wild ilex wood
to hack out that impalpable ghost, to catch in wood
that soul which blows and disappears, and which our mind 730
can’t grasp; now, prince, I place it in your holy hands!”
The prince broke in cold sweat, then seized the hardy log:
“Dear God, this is not an ascetic’s nor a man’s face;
I hold a crimson-bearded dragon, grim-faced War!”
The gold tent opened and again the guard rushed in: 735
“Prince, your third envoy has returned, and gasps for breath!”
A gallant youth fell prone before the prince, and cried:
“I saw him! Like an old forebear he sunned himself
on a great cliff, vines twined him round, and nightingales
built in his hair, beasts walked his flesh, and his white beard 740
poured down the cliff like an old hoary river-god;
a red rose hung behind his ear, a setting sun.
I climbed a tree and yelled, ‘Grandfather, our prince calls!’
but my own echo struck and felled me like a stone.
Stubbornness seized me then—with trembling hands I grabbed 745
a knife and carved his face from an old olive trunk;
now prince, I place the ascetic’s face within your hands!”
The ruin-hearted prince then stooped toward earth and cried:
“O dreadful spirit, O mighty three-yolked egg of air!” 749
When the three messengers had left the golden tent 750
the ravished prince then raised his tear-stained eyes and saw
his faithful slave alone in a far corner, weeping.
“O faithful slave, don’t weep! Look in my eyes, reply:
What happens to a man’s body when it stays a month,<
br />
what happens when it stays a full year in the grave?” 755
“O long-lived master, I beseech you, don’t, don’t ask!”
“Slave, my request is my command! Answer at once!”
“O prince, six kinds of fat worms, six invading troops,
six waves of famished worms rush swiftly toward the corpse;
each wave first towers high, swoops down, eats all it can 760
with leisure, then rolls off, makes way for other waves,
all in good order, prince, and not one bickering quarrel!
Before the body well expires, the good news sweeps
the air and the dung-flies with their huge bellies swarm
from gardens, dung-heaps, stables, cow barns, filthy lanes, 765
and perch on the still-striving, dying man’s pale lips,
on his blue nostrils, the deep pits of his dark eyes,
and quickly lay their eggs in clusters, heap on heap.
At once, when the man dies, the blowflies swoop down, prince,
the savage meat flies, too, with their fat fuzzy bellies, 770
and heap on the warm corpse their white and welling eggs.
Then four pallbearers come, open and close the tomb,
and in the first nights slowly the corpse softens, swells,
the chest turns blue, the head becomes soft yellow wax,
the belly bloats up like a wineskin and turns green. 775
Then eggs hatch everywhere, on nostrils, eyes, and ears—
and all at once an army of blind silent worms
march, mount, possess the body, and begin to eat.
In time the fingernails drop off, the belly cracks,
the human corpse becomes a hogskin of fat lard, 780
O long-lived prince, till finally a new white wave
of worms appears, like cheese grubs, and begins to eat.
The flesh becomes black broth and pours out in soft slush,
and then the third great wave leaps up and swells until
tall heaps of maggots sink into the broth, and eat. 785
Slowly the corpse becomes a tough dry hide, and then
a deep invisible host of larvae hatch and gnaw
what filaments still stick about the bones and skull.
Close on their heels the fifth most greedy wave mounts up
of strong-jawed worms and maggots that begin to saw 790
and munch away the nerves, the brains, the shroud, the nails.
At length, in three years’ time the final wave mounts high,
the final table guests arrive deep from the earth
and squat about the corpse to eat what scraps remain.
Nothing at length is left of man’s once mighty body 795
or his almighty soul, O scion of great kings,
but his white, naked bones strewn underground until
within his empty head, the bulwark once of God,
only a soft damp mold distills, a flabby dough.
But don’t think, prince, that this is man’s once holy brain— 800
this is not brain, but dross, dregs, filth and sediment,
the myriad droppings of the waves of worms that passed!”
The slave fell silent then and shut his lips with fear,
but the weak seed of kings, death-stifled, spoke no word,
and heard his slave’s voice for a long time, saw the worms 805
still rise and fall within his mind in six huge waves.
But then he suddenly shook his head, his eyes shot flames,
his voice for the first time rose in a gallant cry:
“I’ve never heard before such a strong martial air!”
He spoke, then sank his head upon his chest in thought; 810
his black-veiled memory stooped above his giddy mind’s
resounding threshold where she combed, uncombed her hair
and held the stream of worms for mirror, and softly wept.
As his soul sank within destruction’s dazzling mist,
drums suddenly resounded, loud rejoicing shouts 815
struck at the young man’s worm-enraptured brains and ears
and an old archon knelt and bowed before his lord:
“King’s son, your race is firm now, for your seed’s been blessed, 818
and your great throne spreads roots in earth like a stout oak;
I bring you happy news and this ripe pomegranate: 820
a son was born to you last night, the world’s grown firm!” 821
But the new father flung his hands on high with dread:
“Ah, help me, God! New chains now tie me to wretched earth!
I strike against life’s fetters and shout in empty air!”
The faithful slave in tears then clasped the prince’s knees: 825
“Hold your heart firm like a strong king, don’t shake with dread;
joy also is an urgent beast that drinks man’s blood,
but what great shame if your soul now can’t bear that too!
Behold, your twelve slim dancing-girls have come, your twelve
blind minstrels with their zithers raise their throats and sing 830
the golden-crimson birthday of your first-born son.”
He spoke, then placed the pomegranate in the youth’s hands:832
“O princely father, may your courts and your gold floors
brim like this fertile fruit with daughters and strong sons!”
The prince seized savagely the shameless seeded fruit, 835
and his eyes brimmed with tears, and his throat tore in two:
“Thus may my seed and the great seed of all the world
scatter and spill on earth to rot, almighty God!”
He spoke, then raised the seeded fruit to smash it on the ground. 839
But a strong hand reached out and held the raised arm tight, 840
and when the king’s son turned to see what mortal dared
to stop the onrush of his sacred arm, he saw
the ascetic stand before him with a gentle smile.
The dancing-girls like swift chameleons disappeared,
the blind bards shut their babbling mouths, the slaves backed out, 845
and the prince clasped the knees of the sage man with fear:
“O dreadful spirit, great three-bodied egg of air!”
The white-haired athlete spread his battlemented hands
and with great sweetness fondled the youth’s raven locks
until the prince’s mind stood still, his speech grew firm: 850
“Though I rule towns and lands, I still don’t rule my heart;
all day and all night long I see Death loom in air,
I stoop to drink and see his face float in the bowl.
I take some bread to eat, and my hands fill with worms,
and when I clasp a maid I break in loud lament 855
for in my arms I feel the loved corpse putrefy.
Many-souled saint, plumb line between our life and death,
I fall a pilgrim at your feet, and in your court
pile all the spice and treasures of my caravan,
but give my soul some medicament, my mind some drug. 860
They say at drop of midnight you pluck heaven’s herbs—
pity me then, give me the magic herb of health
that I may not discern earth’s worms or Death in air.”
But the soul-snatcher played with a tree leaf and smiled
to watch it twirl within the sun’s prismatic light 865
till his small flame-reflecting eyes began to flash.
The death-lured prince stood waiting for reply, but still
the great ghost-dragger of the dual mind’s wide wings,
one light, one dark, smiled to himself, sunk in his game,
till the prince touched his shoulder and cried in a choked voice: 870
“What do you see in that green leaf and do not speak?”
Like gurgling water then the lone man’s w
ords gushed up
and fell from walls of silence and the mind’s high crags:
“I see, O pale king’s son, a mighty city rise
like a flesh-eating scabby leper, mount the stem 875
and slowly spread its tentacles on this fresh leaf.
I see the noise-resounding streets flash in its veins:
bent workers walk in sun together with their kings,
frail women stroll and clasp their babes like infant gods
and youthful horsemen dash from the wide city gates. 880
Then I hear sounds and weeping, laughter, groans, and wings,
till on the leaf’s edge slowly leprosy is healed
as the great city sinks and its din dwindles far.
This is the secret herb I hold that cures all hearts!”
He spoke, then placed it laughingly in the youth’s palm 885
and he, with joy and fear together, slung the leaf
above his ear like a red rose and cried aloud:
“Guardian of earth, your words are joy and a great solace!
O sage, you gaze on Death while monarchs, cities, towns,
countries and peoples twist like leaves and fall to earth.” 890
Then the death-battler felt his mind brim full of love
for the unripe and shriveled youth who shrank before him;
he cast his calm gaze on that waxen face until
the youth stepped back in fear, for in those somber orbs
the heavens and earth gleamed like a desert, and above them 895
he saw his own face sinking like the waning moon.
“Guardian of earth, you too hold Death within your eyes!”
Then the god-slayer slowly stroked the youth’s black locks:
“My son, I too watch Death before me night and day;
the proudest joy which now unites us here on earth 900
is that we’ve emptied both our hearts of gods and hope,
yet you sink nerveless to the ground, for loneliness
has driven you wild, and freedom cleaves your head in two.
But I hold Death like a black banner and march on!
When I drink water my mind cools to its deep roots, 905
for I know joy is fleeting and does not return;
I munch bread and rejoice to know that I cast crumbs
in my frail body’s furnace that my soul may blaze;
I take my joy of woman till the whole earth laughs
and nestles sweetly in my arms, in haste to feel 910
before I die, my sacred heir stir in her womb.
Death is the salt that gives to life its tasty sting!”
The proud carouser laughed until the gold tent shook
and the youth’s mind was pacified, his voice relaxed:
The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel Page 94