Last Voyage: Selected Poems of Giovanni Pascoli

IX. The Fisherman

129 IX. The Fisherman But then a swallow, suddenly seeing him, and with a shriek, swerved to avoid Odysseus. Then circled around toward where the eyes of the hero searched the whole gray curve of beach, hoping to see his ship washed up on shore. But he did not find it there; instead he saw a man, stooped, old, in filthy rags, standing on the beach, alternately scratching at the sand and gasping into the sea. Standing above him, Odysseus smiled, “Caught anything yet, o fisherman of the sands? I’ve seen, while wandering in my black ship, a man seated on a sharp reef, holding up a line hanging over the waves, the long line held down by a lead sinker which carried to the fish a bent hook made of bronze, which thus hooks them; a loop of cow’s horn keeps them from biting off the bait to escape. The man, when he was flushed with hunger ate even the sacred fish which devours raw flesh! I saw as well, men throwing nets from curved ships that hovered over fish-filled whirlpools, diving like moor hens and cormorants. And I also saw fish in the gray sand flop around gasping for water, spilling out of well-knotted nets, and soon die, shining in the sun. But I have not seen, without hook or net, 130 niuno mai fare tali umide prede, o vecchio, e niuno farsi mai vivanda di tali scabre chiocciole dell’acqua, che indosso hanno la nave, oppur dei granchi, che indosso hanno l’incudine dei fabbri. E il malvestito al vecchio Eroe rispose: Tristo il mendico che al convito sdegna cibo che lo scettrato re gli getta, sia tibia ossuta od anche pingue ventre. Ché il Tutto, buono, ha tristo figlio: il Niente. Prendo ciò che il mio grande ospite m’offre, che dona, cupo brontolando in cuore, ma dona: il mare fulgido e canoro, ch’è sordo in vero, ma più sordo è l’uomo. Or al mendico il vecchio Eroe rispose: O non ha la rupestre Itaca un buono suo re ch’ha in serbo molto bronzo e oro? che verri impingua, negli stabbi, e capre? cui molto odora nei canestri il pane? Non forse il senno d’Odisseo qui regge, che molto errò, molto in suo cuor sofferse? e fu pitocco e malvestito anch’esso. Non sai la casa dal sublime tetto, del Laertiade fulgido Odisseo? 131 anyone take such damp spoils, old man— and nobody ever finds a meal with no hook or taking those misshapen snails from the water which look like they have ships on their backs or crabs, that seem to have anvils on their backs.” And the ragged old man answered the hero, “Sad is the beggar who scorns food at a banquet when it is thrown to him by the king, whether he has bony shins or a fat belly. The other side of All is Nothing. I take whatever my great host offers me, even if he gives it grumbling, with a hollow heart. The shining melodious sea is deaf in truth, but even more profoundly deaf is man.” Now the old hero replied to the beggar, “Does not rocky Ithaca have a good king who has stored bronze and gold in reserve? Who has fattened boars and goats in the sty? Who scents the baskets with much bread? Perhaps this isn’t the wisdom of Odysseus, who governed, who wandered, who suffered in his heart? And he was a beggar in rags himself. Don’t you know the exalted house of shining Odysseus, son of Laertes?” ...