then he stamped on the earth, threw out his arms, and laughed,
for once more life had not abandoned him, his mind
was whole, his nostrils smelled the heady stench of men.
All pressed him round with questions, striving to find out 1285
whether within his hands he held their life or death.
Then Kentaur shouted, as new seas came flooding round him:
“Captain, do we cast anchor deep in the earth’s grave
or shall we see our foaming prow scud in the wind?
If only the road to deathless waters were still unending, 1290
still to be passed, and still no end to that great passage!”
As the lone man groped at his comrades’ heads and backs,
he choked with joy to feel man’s warmth and life’s good stench,
for new joys and new loves rose in his heart and swayed
as though he had just then been born, a full-grown man, 1295
and stood on the earth’s threshold, filled with stupefaction.
He then recalled the newborn cricket far away
that hatched on an old olive tree and shook to see
the brilliance of the world spread out, all sun and trees;
he too, now, like that cricket, brimmed with glowing strength. 1300
Then when he’d had his fill of fondling, he found his voice
and told how he had danced, how his bold god had rushed
and opened wide his ponderous jaws and gulped them all:
“Eh, comrades, calm down now, for I’ve a somber speech:
I’ve just been born this hour, I’ve just returned from Hades! 1305
A pity on all the years I’ve wasted! My life was shameful,
for like a craven slave I’ve tread in man’s old footsteps—
were I to die today, I should have lost the game!”
His eyes flashed and cast sparks in the dark dungeon;
cold and hot waters tumbled down the glutton’s spine 1310
to see them, and the wretched piper shook with fright,
but the blue-eyed barbarians glowed and yelled as though
they dashed on horseback through their far snow-covered plains.
The flame-eyed archer bound his waist with a strong belt,
tied his strong sandals, cleansed his eyes of the thick mud, 1315
then turned to all his troops, medley of blond and black:
“God is no song that darts and fades in empty air
but a warm throbbing throat that brims with flesh and blood;
he’s called us, spoken his dread word, and rushed ahead.
Forward, my friends, let’s tread in our forerunner’s steps, 1320
plunge southward, lads, in Africa, in the sun’s heat!
There at the utmost rim of all, at the world’s end,
where wheat grows tall as trees, and weeds to a man’s height,
and the pig-thistle springs beyond a horse’s rump,
there we shall build new castles and a brand-new city, 1325
there we shall raise new hopes and virtues, joys and sorrows,
there our strong arms will finish what the proud heart orders.
Push on! We’ll give this old whore earth a new virginity!”
All the barbarians roared, and joining arm to arm
raised the flushed archer high till the whole dungeon shook, 1330
The piper buckled on his flute like a slim sword
—who knows, dear God, what tune the wretched reed will spout?—
and with his cricket-shanks stalked to the dungeon door,
but flatfoot flung him horseback on his nape and yelled:
“Hold on, my fine friend! What’s your rush, my sparking lion?” 1335
And Granite zoned and zoned himself with his red sash,
for all his yearning mind flew far off, far away,
deep down in Africa’s hot wastes, and his heart danced:
“Ah, for the desert’s clear pure air, for spreading roads
where the proud crane, that swift road-guide, may surge ahead 1340
till at the road’s far end my Rocky looms and shines!”
As Granite yearned and zoned himself for the new road,
workingman Nile approached and spoke to the town-builder:
“Good luck to your air-castles, O rebellious soul
You clutch air in your hands and we but a lump of earth; 1345
give me the liberty to come with you awhile
for my life still may bear some fruit on this poor earth.
But we shall part before you pass our frontiers, friend,
for on this land where I have suffered I must one day
reap the great harvest of revenge with workers’ scythes.” 1350
Day broke, the skylight wanly smiled like a weak sun
and the mind-reader pushed the door as his friends passed,
wing-footed hunters with wide eyes that flashed with fire,
and gazed on the endless road as their ancestral home.
Their leader smiled serenely and then with his swift glance 1355
spied on his wild new friends and to his quick heart said:
“Rise up and lead, O double-lightning, double-ax,
for this bare earth grows bold and thorns press round to choke us.
Strike, O lean lightning, right and left! Open our bloodstained way!”
XII
Doys, never mourn the warrior! What though he miss the mark?
Though he err once or twice, he’ll swoop to arms once more,
sling a carnation over his ear, then cock his cap,
and once more friends will throng about his groaning boards.
His friends feast in his courtyards, eat and drink with joy, 5
then strike up rousing songs until their hearts catch fire.
Brandish the torches now, push on, our horses neigh,
this whole world’s grown too narrow, and I choke for air!
Out of rams’ horns, I make curved bows, swift ships from trees,
I gulp down birds and beasts, drink undiluted wine, 10
and wake at dawn to find the meat has climbed my head
and burst in gallant flame that spies and hails the world.
I grab an ax, hack out a god, bow down and worship,
but then I see him one clear dawn and raise my ax:
‘Blockhead, dry log, my heart has no more room for you, 15
nor can you hold my strength, and I shall knock you down!’
Then I hack God to kindling, throw him in the hearth,
and in the darkness stretch my still-un-sated hands,
grab women like soft clay and with them mold more men,
then set them loose on earth that they may dry in sun: 20
‘Ahoy, my lads, let’s see where this great world will end,
how far the soul will stretch without the bowstring snapping,
but if it snaps, my friends, don’t mind, it soon will mend
and once again the arrow will rise in light and strike the sun!’ ”
Thus did gaunt Granite sing as the youths beat their drums 25
and a riffraff of motley men pushed on behind,
all those the roaming guide had chosen for his troops.
By God, how had he found the top cream of the crop?
He must have culled the land’s best buds for his bouquet,
each sour-apple’s pip, each walnut tree’s hard nut! 30
What gallant cutthroats, what knife-slingers, what low crooks,
what roughnecks, rakehells, were not found in his wolf-pack!
Ripsnorters of the rope and rod, whoremongering pimps,
long-fingered fleecers, pirates even of empty air,
free hearts that had no fear of demon, man, or god. 35
With these came stout horse-wenches, lumbering monkey-sluts,
harridans, sirens, gypsies, and homebreaking tarts,
brazen and flaunting whore
s, frail sisters big with child,
and troop on straggling troop of demon-seeded bastards.
Their guide had skimmed the land and gathered all the scum! 40
All stooped to earth and cast a stone behind their backs:
“Cursed be your fertile fatty soil, rotted with lords,
may the black plague and snake-coiled curses eat you whole,
may all the poisons you’ve made us drink become your wounds!”
They screamed and raised high heaps of stones on the frontiers, 45
and when the king’s troops finally left them and turned back,
Odysseus blew his conch, and Kentaur raised his voice
into a thunderous blast until from all sides round
the motley mob pressed close to make its final choice.
Then the death-archer rose in the packed crowd and took 50
God’s mask from his broad back and held it high, aloft,
turning it round in sun, full of black blood and mire,
and when the crowd had hugged the fear deep in its heart,
the man-decoyer’s voice rang in the desert sands:
“O heart, don’t quake! My people, come, bind your brains tight! 55
Look well now on your dread God’s eyes, his teeth, his lips:
this was the mouth that growled and struck the pale king dumb,
these were the bloodshot eyes that rolled and gulped their gods,
this is the black ram that will lead us in the grim desert!
Bind your brains thrice, and then, O brothers, say farewell 60
to your loved homelands and to all good times forever;
gone are the wines and pots, the good terms with your lords,
gone are the flattering hopes, gone your consoling gods,
gone is the right to raise your head or to turn back.
And if you ask me what good things this god will vow 65
to trusting hearts that follow him, then cock your ears:
hunger and thirst are what he holds in his black pouch!
This is the cruel truth, lads! Don’t you come whining when
in the dry wilderness you wander ragged and hungry!
Here on the sands I cut a line with my iron sword: 70
behind lies slavery and our fat grain-mother earth,
before lies liberty and hunger. Weigh both well.
He who has never killed or stolen or not betrayed
or murdered in his mind, let him now rise and leave!
Who in his heart of hearts still whispers, ‘I like this earth, 75
and spacious is man’s head to hold me’—let him leave!
We in the wilderness shall shape a rutting god
stifling with liberty and hunger, blood and brains.
Place your hearts well within the scales and search your loins:
we too won’t bear that man who can’t bear God’s grim face!” 80
The hardened roughnecks listened without fear, nor moved,
for each soul weighed itself and found it was not wanting—
untamed desires, murders, thefts and manly deeds
seethed in their daring hearts and boiled up in their brains
till memory roared in all their heads with mud and gore. 85
As the great archer watched his mob, his churlish roughs,
he suddenly turned giddy with love, pity, and pride:
“O men, warm bodies, hearts who are Death’s roaring flutes,
O holy dust, air, water, fire and brain, my children,
forward! Let’s tighten our belts firmly and start the climb, 90
but now, before we move, let’s bathe in the cool river
and wash away dishonor’s crust and slavery’s mire;
our God now seeks to pierce new flesh and lie ensheathed.”
He spoke, and all leapt laughing in the azure river’s stream.
But Granite with his gallants heard a roaring sound 95
and saw far off a herd of bison line the sands.
“Out with your swords! God’s passing by in a buck’s shape!
Our road starts well, for meat’s a good foundation stone.”
Thus Granite yelled, and his men charged the sacred beasts.
Soon, as the motley crowd climbed up the banks, new-washed, 100
and gazed upon the wastelands with their fresh-cooled eyes,
they saw great Granite with his wild-game hunters come
and drag two monstrous bison on their bloodstained backs.
The archer’s words still seethed within the people’s minds,
their savage god hung like a sharp ax from their belts, 105
like fire from their eyes, and gazed on the sands, laughing.
But as they looked on the dark beasts and the sharp horns
a monstrous and unbearable hunger pierced their guts,
and even before the hunters could unskin the beasts,
all, men and women, yelled and grabbed at the raw meat 110
and with their teeth, their dog-teeth, tore it all to shreds.
The beasts were minced to pieces in a flash, devoured,
and the mob, smeared with blood, became wild buffaloes;
their heads, like dens of cavemen, roared with savage cries.
The many-faced man felt his great mind twist and whirl 115
till the proud veins between his eyebrows spread like horns:
he rushed into the bison-sated crowd and nailed
his iron lance deep in the sand and on its tip
hung the mud-splattered, awesome mask of his dread god:
“Hold me, my lads, don’t let me fall! God stalks and groans!” 120
Granite was startled to see the dark drunken state,
the savage bison-stare of his enraptured master:
“For shame! Our leader’s glance is glazed, and his mind shakes,
a wild wine strikes him, evil winds now whip his soul!”
He spoke to Kentaur who stooped low and moaned with fear 125
for he, too, felt the spirit coursing along his spine.
The demon-driven man leapt high and grabbed the mask,
stumbled, as though he had no strength to hold it high,
then lashed it thrice about his head with a thick thong
and swept into a swirling dance with his dread god. 130
He felt God’s spirit pour within him like thick flesh,
his mind dashed down from crag to crag till on the last
stark cliff his brain was freed from trance and his voice cleared:
“Ah, the spread-eagle has soared away, and the dance stops!
Friends, when I held God’s mask lashed to my giddy skull 135
I saw our secret goal and where our road must lead:
earth’s fate shone clearly in my heart, all roads sprang open,
till now I hold the future etched in my lined palms.
I stoop and see wild beasts and wars, sorrows and joys,
and a huge city dangling from my slender thumb. 140
But it’s most shameful to unlid or tell with words
the secret will of God or what man’s heart can do;
we shall unwind the yarn of fate as we march on!
Rapture was good, a heavy flaming bird that passed
and filled our guide, the antlike mind, with flashing wings, 145
but now our dread task starts on earth with no bright wings.”
He spoke, then split his troops according to their kind:
“Let’s cut apart our army, lads, into three columns:
Granite shall lead the first brave group of gallant youths
and the one-breasted girls who have not yet known men; 150
Kentaur shall follow with his crowd of feeble crones,
for he’s soft-spoken and his heart pains like a mother’s;
I shall come last with comrades in the prime of life,
mature men who have reaped the fruit of topmost strength;
our piper, Orpheus,
with his drum and dulcet flute 155
shall scamper freely where our God shall choose to blow him
for, being a songster, he claims the free air for friend.
Thus our three ranks shall march in order, row on row.
Forward, my lads! If our stud-god wants his own good
he’ll march with us on our rough desert road and share our fate.” 160
He spoke, and the three columns swayed, the army moved,
and the wild god stalked on ahead like a black ram,
while high above, the hot sun ground them like ripe grain.
Mutely the ancient river rolled and tagged the troops,
the date trees moved their honeyed hands to welcome them, 165
and famished crows from far off swarmed and spied to see
how long these creatures would stand straight and move their limbs.
Like heavy winking eyelids, nights and days blinked by,
and the hot days walked in and out and beat their clogs
on the resounding river-stones and the coarse sand. 170
The nights adorned their black throats with resplendent stars
and like ferocious Negro widows roamed the banks
and jangled joyously their star-embellished bracelets.
When sad nostalgia seethed within the piper’s breast
his new tune danced upon the sands like a moonstruck 175
and downy deer until all throats poured forth their flutes.
Once more the long days rose sand-spattered on the earth,
rough scaly crocodiles slid through the tepid waters,
strong snakes coiled in spasmodic twists and flicked their tongues
while their small glittering eyes flashed sweetly like a girl’s. 180
Soon, far off they discerned a village of mud huts
and each seemed like a towering pile of dead mens skulls;
nude women scrambled screaming to their terrace roofs,
and old men, trembling, placed at Granite’s sturdy feet
trustworthy signs of love and friendship: dates, salt, water. 185
One day in some dry bushes the world-wanderer saw
an old man crouched, transported with ecstatic joy,
striking a bow’s gutstring with his small fingernail.
Like a bee-swarm’s light murmur or wing’s gentle hum
the bowstring’s tremolo slowly vanished in thin air 190
and the enraptured codger cocked his ear and listened.
He heard all of the wilderness, the river and woods,
his small and humble hut, his sweet and gentle grandson,
his god who stood on guard before the sacred village gate.
He heard his desolate spirit quivering through the chord, 195