Pound, Ezra: Canto XLVII

Who even dead, yet hath his mind entire!

This sound came in the dark

First must thou go the road

                                     to hell

And to the bower of Ceres' daughter Proserpine,

Through overhanging dark, to see Tiresias,

Eyeless that was, a shade, that is in hell

So full of knowing that the beefy men know less than he,

Ere thou come to thy road's end.

Knowledge the shade of a shade,

Yet must thou sail after knowledge

Knowing less than drugged beasts.

phtheggometha thasson*

φθέγγὠμεθα θᾶσσον

  The small lamps drift in the bay

And the sea's claw gathers them.

Neptunus drinks after neap-tide.

Tamuz! Tamuz!!

The red flame going seaward.

  By this gate art thou measured.

From the long boats they have set lights in the water,

The sea's claw gathers them outward.

Scilla's dogs snarl at the cliff's base,

The white teeth gnaw in under the crag,

But in the pale night the small lamps float seaward

Τυ Διὠνα

TU DIONA

Και Μοῖραι' Ἆδωνιν

KAI MOIRAI' ADONIN

The sea is streaked red with Adonis ,

The lights flicker red in small jars.

Wheat shoots rise new by the altar,

                 flower from the swift seed

Two span, two span to a woman,

Beyond that she believes not. Nothing is of any importance.

To that is she bent, her intention

To that art thou called ever turning intention,

Whether by night the owl-call, whether by sap in shoot,

Never idle, by no means by no wiles intermittent

Moth is called over mountain

The bull runs blind on the sword, naturans

To the cave art thou called, Odysseus,

By Molu hast thou respite for a little,

By Molu art thou freed from the one bed

                    that thou may'st return to another

The stars are not in her counting,

                    To her they are but wandering holes.

Begin thy plowing

When the Pleiades go down to their rest,

Begin thy plowing

40 days are they under seabord,

Thus do in fields by seabord

And in valleys winding down toward the sea.

When the cranes fly high

                    think of plowing.

By this gate art thou measured

Thy day is between a door and a door 

Two oxen are yoked for plowing

Or six in the hill field

White bulk under olives, a score for drawing down stone,

Here the mules are gabled with slate on the hill road.

Thus was it in time.

And the small stars now fall from the olive branch,

Forked shadow falls dark on the terrace

More black than the floating martin

          that has no care for your presence,

His wing-print is black on the roof tiles

And the print is gone with his cry.

So light is thy weight on Tellus

Thy notch no deeper indented

Thy weight less than the shadow

Yet hast thou gnawed through the mountain,

           Scylla's white teeth less sharp.

Hast thou found a nest softer than cunnus

Or hast thou found better rest

Hast'ou a deeper planting, doth thy death year

Bring swifter shoot?

Hast thou entered more deeply the mountain?

The light has entered the cave. Io! Io!

The light has gone down into the cave,

Splendour on splendour!

By prong have I entered these hills:

That the grass grow from my body,

That I hear the roots speaking together,

The air is new on my leaf,

The forked boughs shake with the wind.

Is Zephyrus more light on the bough, Apeliota

more light on the almond branch?

By this door have I entered the hill.

Falleth,

Adanis falleth.

Fruit cometh after. The small lights drift out with the tide,

sea's claw has gathered them outward,

Four banners to every flower

The sea's claw draws the lamps outward.

Think thus of thy plowing

When the seven stars go down to their rest

Forty days for their rest, by seabord

And in valleys that wind down toward the sea 

Και Μοῑραι' Ἆδωνιν

KAI MOIRAI T' ADONIN

When the almond bough puts forth its flame,

When the new shoots are brought to the altar,

Τυ Διὠνα Και Μοῖραι’

TU DIONA, KAI MOIRAI

Και Μοῖραι' Ἆδωνιν

KAI MOIRAI T' ADONIN

that hath the gift of healing,

that hath the power over wild beasts.

  

* "let us raise our voices without delay." Transliteration of the Greek words in next line, invoking Montallegre Madonna, a festival reminiscent of early vegetation rites celebrating the return of Persephone and Adonis to the earth.