KAZANTZAKIS, Niko


The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel
…..
Snatch prudence from me, God, burst my brows wide, fling far

the trap doors of my mind, let the world breathe awhile.

Ho, workers, peasants, you ant-swarms, carters of grain,

I fling red poppies down, may the world burst in flames!

Maidens, with wild doves fluttering in your soothing breasts,

brave lads, with your black-hilted swords thrust in belts,

no matter how you strive, earth's but a barren tree,

but I, ahoy, with my salt songs shall force the flower!

Fold up your aprons, craftsmen, cast your tools away,

fling off Necessity's firm yoke, for Freedom calls.

Freedom, my lads, is neither wine nor a sweet maid,

not goods stacked in vast cellars, no, nor sons in cradles,

it's but a scornful, lonely song the wind has takenŠ

Come, drink of Lethe's brackish spring to cleanse your minds,

forget your cares, your poisons, your ignoble profits,

and make your hearts as babes, unburdened, pure and light.

O brain, be flowers that nightingales may come to sing!

Old men, howl all you can to bring your white teeth back,

to make your hair crow-black, your youthful wits go wild,

for by our Lady Moon and our Lord Sun, I swear

old age is a false dream and Death but fantasy,

all playthings of the brain and the soul's affectations,

all but a mistral's blast that blows the temples wide;

the dream was lightly dreamt and thus the earth was made;

let's take possession of the earth with song, my lads!

Aye, fellow craftsmen, seize your oars, the Captain comes;

and mothers, give your sweet babes suck to stop their wailing!

Ahoy, cast wretched sorrow out, prick up your ears-

I sing the sufferings and torments of renowned Odysseus!
…..
(Translation Kimon FRIAR)
…..
The people cast themselves down by the fuming boards

while servants cut the roast, mixed jars of wine and water,

and all the gods flew past like the night-breaths of spring.

The chattering female flocks sat down by farther tables,

their fresh prismatic garments gleaming in the moon

as though a crowd of haughty peacocks played in moonlight.

The queen’s throne softly spread with white furs of fox

gaped desolate and bare, for Penelope felt ashamed

to come before her guests after so much murder.

Though all the guests were ravenous, they still refrained,

turning their eyes upon their silent watchful lord

till he should spill wine in libation for the Immortals.

The king then filled a brimming cup, stood up and raised

it high till in the moon the embossed adornments gleamed:

Athena, dwarfed and slender, wrought in purest gold,

pursued around the cup with double-pointed spear

dark lowering herds of angry gods and hairy demons;

she smiled and the sad tenderness of her lean face,

and her embittered fearless glance, seemed almost human.

Star-eyed Odysseus raised Athena’s goblet high

and greeted all, but spoke in a beclouded mood:

“In all my wandering voyages and torturous strife,

the earth, the seas, the winds fought me with frenzied rage;

I was in danger often, both through joy and grief,

of losing priceless goodness, man’s most worthy face.

I raised my arms to the high heavens and cried for help,

but on my head gods hurled their lightning bolts, and laughed.

I then clasped Mother Earth, but she changed many shapes,

and whether as earthquake, beast, or woman, rushed to eat me;

then like a child I gave my hopes to the sea in trust,

piled on my ship my stubbornness, my cares, my virtues,

the poor remaining plunder of god-fighting man,

and then set sail; but suddenly a wild storm burst,

and when I raised my eyes, the sea was strewn with wreckage.

As I swam on, alone between sea and sky,

with but my crooked heart for dog and company,

I heard my mind, upon the crumpling battlements

about my head, yelling with flailing crimson spear.

Earth, sea, and sky rushed backward; I remained alone

with a horned bow slung down my shoulder, shorn of gods

and hopes, a free man standing in the wilderness.

Old comrades, O young men, my island’s newest sprouts,

I drink not to the gods but to man’s dauntless mind.”

All shuddered, for the daring toast seemed sacrilege,

and suddenly the hungry people shrank in spirit;

They did not fully understand the impious words

but saw flames lick like red curls about his savage head.

The smell of roast was overpowering, choice meats steamed,

and his bold speech was soon forgotten in hunger’s pangs;

all fell to eating ravenously till their brains reeled.

Under his lowering eyebrows Odysseus watched them sharply:

"This is my people, a mess of bellies and stinking breath!

These are my own minds, hands, and thighs, my loins and necks!"

He muttered in his thorny beard, held back his hunger

far from the feast and licked none of the steaming food.

…..