Last Voyage: Selected Poems of Giovanni Pascoli

XIV. The Beggar

149 XIV. The Beggar They sang; and their song was a song of lost youth, a song of times gone by; a time they couldn’t remember. And in the cargo hold in which he lay sunk deep in a sweet slumber, Iro, the beggar, stretched his arms and rubbed his eyelids with his fists. And no one knew that down in the hold this big caterpillar had closed itself into a wooly cocoon, perhaps just to sleep. There, inside the ship of Odysseus, Iro wintered; banished from the warm stable by the plowman, as usual, and by the persistent dogs of the shepherd. At the height of summer, he slept under the stars on the dewy ground. Then he would forget the sadness of old age and of hunger; but when the music and song stirred him, great waves tossed inside his heart: “Did I hear the music from a golden lyre? Then it wasn’t a dream that now, at this very hour, messengers brought word the dead suitors, and so I think I heard the golden lyre in the dark hall— and their voices, frail and hoarse.” He clearly heard the continuous tinkling and the faint song between the roaring of the waves, like that of the peevish whine of tree frogs, in a downpour while the sun still shone. And he spoke to himself, this Iro the beggar: “O, is this an entrance hall of the living? 150 e forse alcuno mi tirò pel piede sino al cortile, poi che la mascella sotto l’orecchio mi fiaccò col pugno? Come altra volta, che Odisseo divino lottò con Iro, malvestiti entrambi. Così pensando si rizzò sui piedi e su le mani, e gli fiottava il capo, e movendo traballava come ebbro di molto vino; e ad Odisseo comparve, nuotando a vuoto, ed ai remigatori, terribile. Ecco e s’interruppe il canto, e i remi alzati non ripreser l’acqua, e la nave da prua si drizzò, come cavallo indomito, e lanciò supino, a piè di Femio e d’Odisseo seduti, Iro il pitocco. E lo conobbe ognuno quando, abbrancati i lor ginocchi, sorse inginocchioni, e gli grondava il sangue giù per il mento dalle labbra e il naso. E un dolce riso si levò di tutti, alto, infinito. Ed egli allor comprese, e vide dileguare Itaca, e vide sparir le case, onde balzava il fumo: e le due coscie si percosse e pianse. E sorridendo il vecchio Eroe gli disse: Soffri. Hai qui tetto e letto, e orzo e vino. Sii nella nave il dispensier del cibo, e bevi e mangia e dormi, Iro non-Iro. 151 And will someone then pull me by my feet into the courtyard, and afterwards will they box my ears into my jawbone with their fists, like the other time, when the ragtag Iro fought with the divine Odysseus?” And thinking all this, he pulled himself onto his feet, his head reeling, and when he moved he staggered forward like he’d been drinking too much wine; he appeared to Odysseus and the oarsmen, a terrifying sight, swimming in the darkness. They stopped singing and raised the oars. When the rowing stopped, the ship reared up its prow like a wild horse, throwing Iro the beggar at the feet of the seated Femius and Odysseus. And everyone recognized him when he fell, clutching at their knees, laughing, blood pouring from his lips and nose down to his chin. And then sweet laughter rose from all of them, endless laughter. In this way he understood that he was looking at the scattered Ithacans, and he saw the houses disappear, the waves dissolve into vapor; he slapped his thighs and wept. And laughing, the old hero said to him, “Have patience, here you have a bed and a roof and barley and wine. Be food steward on board ship, and drink and eat and sleep, Iro, not-Iro.” ...