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XIII. The Departure
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145 XIII. The Departure And so we see how the heart dreams everything with the blue color of distance and memory; how it shortens the shadow of the Cyclops and hears the far-off song of the Sorceress: the one appears to guard so many sheep on the hillside, as many as there are waves; the other seems to weave an immortal song on a canvas that stretches over the wide ocean. And they all dragged the ship down to the sea on circular beams as though it were on wheels; and they tied the mooring to a mastic tree that turned green at the top of a steep incline; the old hero had already gone on board. He passed the tiller on to the helmsman; and he planted his feet in front of the stretcher. Aedo, the poet, was seated very close to him. And with a gesture he signaled the oarsmen to climb into the ship and take up their oars. Odysseus cut the cable free with the axe. And a cuckoo sang a song in the bushes. a farmer sang while he pruned his vineyard, a flock of sheep passed on the sands of the beach, with an incessant mewling of tiny lambs, curly-haired women washed their endless laundry, pounding the clothes as rivals gossiped out loud and from the rocky houses of Ithaca the early morning hearth fires leapt to the sky. And the sailors seated at the ship’s oarlocks 146 facean coi remi biancheggiar il flutto. E Femio vide sopra un alto groppo di cavi attorti la vocal sua cetra, la cetra ch’egli avea gittata, e un vecchio dagli occhi rossi lieto avea raccolta e portata alla nave, ai suoi compagni; ed era a tutti, l’aurea cetra, a cuore, come a bambino infante un rondinotto morto, che così morto egli carezza lieve con dita inabili e gli parla, e teme e spera che gli prenda il volo. E Femio prese la sua cetra, e lieve la toccò, poi, forte intonò la voga ai remiganti. E quell’arguto squillo svegliò nel cuore immemore dei vecchi canti sopiti; e curvi sopra i remi cantarono con rauche esili voci. - Ecco la rondine! Ecco la rondine! Apri! ch’ella ti porta il bel tempo, i belli anni. È nera sopra, ed il suo petto è bianco. È venuta da uno che può tanto. Oh! apriti da te, uscio di casa, ch’entri costì la pace e l’abbondanza, e il vino dentro il doglio da sé vada e il pane d’orzo empia da sé la madia. Uno anc’a noi, col sesamo, puoi darne! Presto, ché non siam qui per albergare. Apri, ché sto su l’uscio a piedi nudi! Apri, ché non siam vecchi ma fanciulli! - [54.204.117.206] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 14:15 GMT) 147 were making the waves billow white with their oars. And Femius saw, at the top of a knot of twisted ropes, the lyre he had thrown out, found by an old man with tears of joy in his eyes, who brought it aboard and told his companions it was for all a golden lyre of the heart, the way a child mourns for a dead swallow which, though he knows it is dead, caresses it, with his clumsy fingers, and speaks softly to it, both fearing and hoping it would take flight. And Femius took up his lyre and touched it lightly, and then he began to play loudly to the oarsmen. How that sudden keen song stirred the closed and forgotten hearts of those men! They remembered sweet music and bent to the oars, while singing out in their thin, raspy voices: Here is the swallow! Here is the swallow! Open— so she may bring us good weather, good years. She is black on top and her breast is white. She has come from one who is all powerful. Open yourself to her, door of the house, so she may enter, bringing peace and abundance, and wine to make your sorrow disappear, and barley bread to fill up all your breadboxes. Some bread for us, too, with sesame! Right now, so we won’t have to stay here. Open, so I seem to stand at my door with bare feet! Open, so we won’t be old men but young boys. ...