The Good Book (32 page)

I cannot eat, even if I had bowl and spoon.

I would cross the river, but ice has stopped the ferry;

I would climb the mountain, but the pass is blocked with snow;

I would sit by the pond and fish, lazy in the afternoon,

But suddenly I dream of flying to the sun.

It is hard to journey, hard, for there are so many turnings:

Which shall I take?

I will climb on the wind one day and ride,

Over the heavy waves, with a cloud for a sail,

And cross the deep sea to other lands.

60

In the capital as the year draws to a close

A great snowfall cloaks the palace courtyard,

And through the blizzard, on their way from court,

In fine crimson robes the dukes and barons ride.

They can enjoy the snowfall’s beauty and bracing wind;

To the rich they do not signify hunger and cold.

At a grand gate the riders and coaches gather,

Candles are lit in the tower and music spills out,

Happy guests press knee to knee,

Warmed by wine they open their fur coats

To show off silk linings and silver buttons.

The host is a high dignitary of the Punishments Board,

The guest of honour is the Minister of Justice.

It was dusk when the feasting and music began,

Now it is past midnight, and the revel continues.

What do they care that in the gaol tonight

The prisoners are freezing to death?

61

Yesterday the villagers pitched a tent on the green,

Brought their hogs and calves to sell;

Their wives laid out cakes and flower displays,

And when dusk fell they lit a bonfire

To roast a pig on a spit,

Lifting their beer mugs, talking quietly while the spit turned,

Themselves turning over gossip and old news.

In the strong firelight they ate when the roast was ready,

Faces gleaming,

And in the shadows the fiddler tuned his fiddle for the revel to come.

62

This isolated hilltop has been dear to me always.

And this hedge also, that draws a line under the sky.

Sitting, looking, I wonder idly

What is beyond the horizon: and I imagine

Great silences, infinite spaces,

Unearthly stillness. Then for a while I am not afraid.

I hear the wind breathing in the trees,

And it is the voice of that distance,

Calling to mind the idea of time without time,

The dead ages past and mute,

The unbounded present ever arriving

With tumult and noise. My thoughts

Founder in those immensities;

And it is sweet to sink and drown in them.

63

The days of my youth are long over,

Now the days of my prime dwindle in their turn.

With what sad regrets I walk again

In this cold deserted place!

In the middle of the garden I stand alone,

The moonlight blanching the paths,

The wind cold and damp, leaving frosted dews

On the autumn lettuce, tangled and gone to seed.

The orchard trees are withered too;

All that is left are chrysanthemums

Newly opened under the wattle fence.

I had brought wine and a cup, and meant to drink;

But the sight of these stayed my hand.

I remember how quickly my moods could change

From sad to gay when I was young;

If I had wine, no matter what season:

Even before I tasted it my heart grew glad.

But now that age approaches, moments of gladness

Are harder and harder to get. I fear that when I am old

Not even the fiercest liquor will comfort me.

Therefore I ask you, chrysanthemums, why you bloom so late:

Though I know well that it is not for my sake. Yet,

Reminded by you, I will forget age and sorrow for this while,

And drink a cup to you.

64

What can this mean? What a strange new life!

What could disturb you so? I no longer know you,

Heart, now that you are overtaken like this,

Old loves, old griefs forgotten, new turbulence instead:

Are you caught by the beautiful youth whose eyes,

Shining at you, prevent you from running away,

Even though you cry out: Let me go! Let me go!

It is the thread which cannot be untied that leads you back,

Every path leads back, you are held fast: what a change!

How old must you grow before this kind of enchantment

No longer catches you, but leaves you free?

65

Come to the dance with me, fair one, come:

The dance crowns the feast day when evening falls.

If you are not my love, yet still you can be,

And if you will be, come, dance with me.

Without you what would a feast day be?

If you love me, all life is feasting:

Without you what would a dance be?

Come dance with me;

Let us spin in the dance, let us steal dizzied away

To whisper in the evening woods:

Come love, dance with me,

Come crown the feast with dance, and love.

66

You see how the high hills stand out white with snow,

And the struggling trees can scarcely bear the load

Of deep drifts on their branches. The river

Is frozen with sharp ice, even the air cracks with cold.

Pile on the logs, build the fire higher,

Bring out the two-handled jug:

Leave everything to its own devices,

The razor-edged wind fighting the heaving sea,

The trees shaking and snapping under their glittering burden;

Do not ask about tomorrow, but count the time as profit,

And give your thoughts to youth’s enjoyments:

The dances in the square, the laughter of a girl

Hiding in a secret corner, which gives her away:

And a pledge snatched from her willing fingers

Which pretend reluctance, but brush your fingers with fire

When they touch.

67

The man caught in the open sea longs for calm.

He is filled with fear when a cloud obscures the moon,

And the stars’ sure gleam is lost to view.

Why ambition, when life is so short?

Why trade peace of mind for these ventures,

Our homes for other suns, our rest for arduous strife?

Spoiling care climbs the bronze side of ships,

It hunts the cavalry, swifter than stags

Or the east wind that hurries the clouds before it:

Every hero fell at the throw of its quivering lance.

It is like the bolt of lightning that splits the oak,

And sets the forests to raging fire in summer’s drought.

None escapes who leaves his rural home

Where his cattle meditate and his sheep quietly graze;

Who keeps warm in winter with a wool doublet

Twice dipped in home dye;

Who eats the bread he baked from corn he milled,

Scorning the envious crowd.

68

Gold loves to go through gates and walls,

It defies armed guards and watchmen,

Money throws down gates, unbolts doors,

Brings battlements and fortifications crumbling down.

Bribes sink ships, win wars, unseat the mighty.

Worry and vexed ambition follow money,

Appetite for wealth grows hungrier with feeding.

Yet the more one denies oneself, the more one gains.

Unencumbered, I seek out the camps of those who desire nothing;

A deserter, I hasten away from the side of wealthy men,

Whose comparison makes me poor: for I am wealthy myself

In the absence of my wants,

Rich in already being satisfied.

I have a stream of clear water, a wood of a few acres,

My harvest and milch cows, and my bleating sheep;

Each morning I find eggs in the straw.

I expand my revenues by shrinking my desires,

And live the emperor of my domain.

69

Let us love that we may live:

Let us judge the old women’s gossip

Less worth than a broken jar.

Let the sun rise and set and rise again;

When its brief warmth has left us

We must huddle in the earth

An endless night. So kiss me:

Give me a thousand kisses

Then a hundred kisses

Then a thousand kisses more:

When we have kissed many thousand kisses

We will be beyond the jealousy

Of those who do not know

How many kisses we shared.

70

She is here! She stays, she has promised!

Banish discontent; I have won;

She could not resist my entreaties longer.

Let joy drive out envy:

She has ceased to travel foreign roads,

She says home is best, exchanging

Wide kingdoms for this narrow bed with me.

I did not persuade her with gold or Indian pearls,

But with poetry.

Now my feet tread the stars; I walk the heavens.

She stays: she, the rare, is mine!

71

I was often hurt by your inconstancy,

Yet I never expected betrayal.

See how mistaken I was! Yet when I ask,

You respond in such slow evasive terms.

You raise your brush calmly to your tresses,

And idly examine your looks in the glass.

You go on decorating your breasts with Eastern jewels,

Like a beautiful woman preparing for a new lover.

Alas! is this where it ends?

So Calypso felt when the Ithacan voyager left,

Weeping long ago to the unfeeling waves,

Mourning many months with loosened hair,

Blaming the unkind sea that took him away:

And even though she would never see him again,

Still she grieved, thinking of the happiness they shared.

So Dido lamented, at the same waves and ocean winds

That irretrievably took the Trojan from her,

With tears as salt as the sea, deepening its depths.

Yet no such stories make you pity me, or stop your lying,

O thoughtless girl! Rivers will return to their springs,

The seasons will reverse their course, before I cease loving you.

Do not let these eyes seem worthless to you now,

That were deliberately blind to your perfidies.

You swore by your own that had you been false,

They would close for ever when I kissed them.

Can you look out at the sunlight, and not tremble,

Aware of your falsehoods?

Who has brought this pallor to my cheeks,

And the unwilling tears to wet them?

If I bewail what has happened

It is to warn those who would love

How beauty betrays.

72

Daphnis, it chanced, had made his seat beneath a whispering ilex,

Where Corydon and Thyrsis drove their flocks together,

Thyrsis his sheep, Corydon his goats swollen with milk, to the meadows;

Both in the bloom of life, Arcadians both.