David Ferry

i Gilgamesh spoke and said to the old man then: "When I looked at you I thought that you were not a man, one made like me; I had resolved to challenge you as one might challenge a demon, a stranger-adversary. But now I see that you are Utnapishtim, made like me, a man, the one I sought, the one from whom I might find out how death can be avoided. Tell me then, father, how it came about that you were admitted to the company of gods, who granted you eternal life." The father Utnapishtim spoke and said: "I will tell Gilgamesh the king the story; a secret of the gods I will disclose. There was an ancient city, Shuruppak— you know of it—most fortunate of cities, god-favored, on the banks of the Euphrates. The gods in heaven decided in their council to bring the flood down on the fortunate city. They sat in secret council together, deciding. Anu was there, the councilor Enlil, Ninurta of the Silence, and there also was the god Ennugi, monitor of canals. And there was Ea, cleverest of the gods. The voice of Ea telling me the secret came whispering through the reed walls of my house: 'You reed house walls, listen and hear me whisper; listen and be attentive to what I tell you. Utnapishtim, son of Ubartutu, abandon your house, abandon what you possess, abandon your house and build a boat instead. Seek life instead of riches, save yourself. Take with you, on the boat you build, an instance of each thing living so that they may be safe from obliteration in the flood. Perform the construction of the boat with care. Let the length of the boat and the width of the boat be equal. Roof over the boat as the abyss is roofed.' The whispering voice spoke through the rustling walls: You reed house walls, listen and hear what I say.' I listened and heard and spoke to the whispering voice: 'I hear what you say. What will I tell the others? What will I tell the old men and the people?' Ea the god whispered to me, his servant: 'Tell them you can no longer live in the city, because you are out of favor with Enlil. The city is the city of Enlil, and therefore Utnapishtim, whom he hates, must find another domicile and another god who will be his patron and protector, and you have therefore decided to depart from Shuruppak and seek another home. Tell them Ea the god will be your patron, whose domicile is Apsu the abyss. Under the roof of Apsu is where you go. As for the city, fortunate Shuruppak, in the morning dawning, abundance will then rain down: there will be plenty, a flood of bounty, the city teeming with heaven's profusion, game birds falling, fishes unheard-of before in song or story, tumbling loaves of fresh-baked morning bread; grain will come showering in from all the grain fields; a harvest of everything, yes, more than enough. These are the things to tell the elders and people.' ii "In the first hours of the early morning dawning, all the people came out for the boat-building, the little children, the weak as well as the strong, everyone carrying something: asphalt, and oil, and pitch, the best of timber with which to build. Day after day I labored building the boat. Ten times a dozen cubits were the walls; ten times a dozen cubits was each deck. There were six decks; the cabin was divided into nine compartments. I made up the plans; I drew a picture of them for our guidance. I hammered the boat together, and plugged the holes with water plugs to keep the water out. I made the bitumen pitch in the pitch kiln, three sar of bitumen pitch to caulk the hull and, to be certain, three sar to caulk the inside. I counted punting poles and put them aboard; I had the basket bearers stow the supplies of oil and foodstuffs, everything I needed. As for the people who came to help in the work each day was like a New Year's holiday: I slaughtered sheep and bullocks for their feasting; for drinking there was wine and beer, plenty, as if there was a river overflowing. On the seventh day I finished building the boat. I opened a bowl of ointment for my hands. I commanded the loading of everything I owned that could be carried, silver, and gold, and all the instances of living things to be saved from obliteration in the flood; and all my household people I took with me. At sunset on that day I launched the boat. The launching was very hard to manage. It took much shifting and much maneuvering on the ways to get the unwieldy boat down into the river, and two-thirds of its weight under the water in order to prevent it from capsizing. As darkness was coming on I heard the god: 'Abundance will rain down, more than enough! Get yourself inside, and close the hatch!' I saw the signs of morning in the sky. 'Abundance will rain down, more than enough!' I got myself inside, and closed the hatch. To Puzuramurri the caulker, who, outside, caulked up the hatch with pitch, I gave my house. iii "In the early hours of the next morning dawning there was the noise of Adad in the clouds that rose and filled the morning sky with blackness. Shullat the herald of the dread Adad moved out over the mountains and over the valleys, bellowing; Hanish the herald of the dread Adad moved over the plains and over the cities; everything turned to darkness as to night. From time to time the Annunaki blazed terrible light. Then rain came down in floods. Beneath, the god of the Underworld, Nergal, broke down his own doorposts and opened the earth. Ninurta god of chaos and of war opened the dikes, and other floods burst forth. The South Wind rushed in flooding over the mountains. Brother could not see brother in the welter; none of the gods in heaven could see the earth; the land was shattered like a shattered pot; confusions of dread Adad were everywhere. Terrified gods got themselves up as high as they could go, nearest the highest heaven, cringing against the wall like beaten dogs. Ishtar cried out like a woman in her birth pangs, the sweet-voiced lady cried: "The days that were have now become as featureless as clay because of what I said when I went to the gods in heaven, bringing calamity down on those whom now the sea engulfs and overwhelms, my children who are now the children of fish.' The Annunaki sat and wept with her, the cowering gods wept, covering their mouths. Six days and nights the storm went on this way, the South Wind flooding over the mountains and valleys until the seventh day when the storm birth labor subsided at last, the flood subsided at last. I opened the hatch. The daylight touched my face. I looked outside. Nothing was moving at all. It looked as flat as a flat clay roof looks flat; and all the human beings had turned to clay. I fell to my knees and wept. The tears ran down the sides of my nose. I wept in the total silence. I looked outside and looked as far as I could, trying to find, looking across the world, something. And then, far off, something was there. What looked like signs of an island could faintly be seen; and then the boat was caught and held from under by the peak rock of a mountain under the water. It was Mount Nisir the boat was grounded on. A first day it was held, and a second day; a third day the boat was held from under, and a fourth day, and a fifth; a sixth day, and then on the seventh day I freed a dove. The dove flew free and flew away from the boat, seeking a place for its little feet to alight, and finding none, flew back to the boat to perch. I freed a swallow then and it flew free and flew away from the boat, seeking a place for its little feet to alight, and finding none, flew back to the boat to find a place to alight. I freed a raven then and it flew free and flew away from the boat, and never returned. It had found a place to alight, and circled about the place, and alighted, and settled itself, and ate, and never after that returned to the boat. Then I set free all the other birds in the boat and they flew free, scattering to the winds. iv "I went ashore and offered a sacrifice. I poured out a libation; I set out seven vessels of offerings on a stand, and then set seven more; I made a fire of wood of myrtle, wood of cane, and wood of cedar. I lit the fire. The odor touched the nostrils of the Igigi gods and gave them pleasure. I slaughtered a sheep to make a sacrifice; the gods collected like flies about the altar. The great goddess progenitrix Ishtar came down from heaven wearing about her neck the pendant Anu gave her for her adornment, of lapis lazuli ornately made. She said: 'Just as this pendant never shall forgotten be by the goddess, so the goddess never will forget calamitous days. The gods may come to the ritual but forbidden is the presence of Enlil, by whose command the flood was peremptorily brought down on the heads of all my children, engulfing them.' When the god Enlil came to the sacrifice he saw the boat, and the sight filled him with rage. He spoke in anger to the gathered gods: 'How is it that one man has saved himself? No breath of life was meant to be kept safe from its obliteration in the flood.' Ninurta opened his mouth and said to the god: 'Ea, the cleverest of the gods, deviser, let Ea speak and give Enlil his answer.' Then Ea opened his mouth and said to the god: "The punishment should always fit the crime. Let him who has performed an evil act be punished for that act. Let not the flood be brought down on the heads of all for what one man has done; and he who has transgressed, show pity to him, lest he be cut off from all his fellows. Better that a lion should come into the village and prey upon it, taking a few, than that the flood drown all. Better a wolf should find its ravening way into the fold, devouring some, much better than that the flood turn all that breathes to clay. Better that famine starve a few of them than that a harvest of waters obliterate all. Better that Erra the plague god, better that he take hold of some, seize them and bear them away to the Underworld, than that the flood drown all. I did not tell the secret to the man. He listened to the wind and guessed the secret. Let the gods sitting in council now decide how to reward the wise man for his wisdom.' The god Enlil then went on board the boat. He took me by the hand and made me kneel; he took my wife by the hand and made her kneel. The god then touched our foreheads, blessing us, and said: 'You were but human; now you are admitted into the company of gods. Your dwelling place shall be the Faraway, the place which is the source of the outflowing of all the rivers of the world there are.' And so they led us to the Faraway, the place we dwell in now, which is the source of all the rivers flowing through the world." Then scornful Utnapishtim said to the king: "Tell me, who would bring all the gods together so that for you they might in council decide what your deserving is, that you be granted admittance into the company of gods? Let there be now a test of Gilgamesh. Let him but keep himself awake for a week, six nights and seven days, to show his worth." So Gilgamesh sat down to begin the test. v Almost as soon as Gilgamesh the king sat down to test himself, a mist of sleep, as ocean mist comes over the shore from the waters, came over his eyes, and so the strongest slept. Then Utnapishtim spoke to his wife and said: "See how this hero sleeps who asks for life. As ocean mist blows over the land from the waters, so the mist of sleep comes over the eyes of the king." The wife of Utnapishtim answered him: "Touch and awaken him, so that he may return in safety to his native city, entering through the gate of his departure." But Utnapishtim said: "Man is deceitful. Therefore he will deceive us. Every day, as he lies sleeping, you must bake a wafer and place the wafer near him, making a mark upon the nearby wall for every day this hero sleeps who seeks eternal life." She baked a wafer every day, of bread, for every day that Gilgamesh lay sleeping. The first wafer was dry as dust; the second only less so than the first; the third was soggy and rotten; the fourth wafer was white in the crust; there were spots of mold on the fifth; the sixth wafer looked almost as if it was fresh; and the seventh—Gilgamesh started and waked up as Utnapishtim touched him on the forehead. Gilgamesh said: "I had almost fallen asleep when you reached out and touched me and kept me awake." But Utnapishtim said to Gilgamesh: "Look at the wafers and look at the marks on the wall: a mark and a wafer for every day you have slept. The first wafer is dry as dust; the second is only less so than the first; the third is soggy and rotten; the fourth wafer is white in the crust; there are spots of mold on the fifth; the sixth wafer looks almost as if it is fresh; and the seventh—but it is then that you awoke." Then Gilgamesh said to him: "What shall I do? Who takes us away has taken hold of me. Death is in my chamber when I sleep; and death is there wherever I set foot." vi Utnapishtim said to the boatman then: "Though your delight has been to cross the waters, the harbor now is closed, the crossing forbidden. The waters and the shore now shun the boatman. The hairy-bodied man you brought across the perilous waters, wearing the skin of a beast that hides his beauty, let Urshànabi take him to the washing place. There let him wash his body, washing away the filth that hides his beauty. Manifest be the beauty of Gilgamesh. Take the skin of a beast he wore on the journey and throw it away in the sea. Let Gilgamesh bind up his shining hair with a new fillet. Let him put on a spotless festal robe. Let him return to his native city in honor in the royal garments appropriate to himself." The boatman led the king to the washing place. Gilgamesh washed his body, washing away the filth that obscured his beauty; then Urshànabi took the skin of a beast and threw it away. Manifest was the beauty of Gilgamesh. He bound up his shining hair with a new fillet; he put on a festal robe, utterly spotless, a royal garment appropriate to himself. Then he and the boatman boarded the little boat and the boat began to move away from the shore. But the wife of Utnapishtim said to her husband: "This man has undergone a terrible journey. What will you give him for his return to his city?" Gilgamesh, hearing, took up his punting pole and brought the little boat back to the shore. Utnapishtim spoke and said to him: "Gilgamesh, you who have made the terrible journey, what shall I give you for your return to your city?" Then Utnapishtim said to Gilgamesh: "A secret of the gods I will disclose. There is a plant that grows under the waters, thorny to seize, as a rose is thorny to seize. How-the-Old-Man-Once-Again-Becomes-a-Young-Man is the name of the plant that grows under the waters. Descend into the waters and seize the plant." So Gilgamesh tied heavy stone weights to his feet to bring him down through the waters of the abyss to the place where he could find the magic plant. He seized the thorny plant that cut his hands; he cut the stone weights loose from his heavy feet; and the waters cast him up upon the shore. vii Gilgamesh said to Urshànabi the boatman: "Urshànabi, this plant is a wonderful plant. New life may be obtained by means of it. I will carry the thorny plant back to my city. I will give some of the plant to the elders there, to share among them, telling them it is called How-the-Old-Man-Once-Again-Becomes-a-Young-Man. And I will take my share of the magic plant, once more to become the one who is youngest and strongest." viii At twenty leagues they stopped only to eat; at thirty leagues they stopped to rest for the night. Gilgamesh found a spring, a pool of pure water. He entered the water, to refresh himself. In the reeds nearby a serpent of the place became aware of the fragrance of the plant, breathed its perfume, desired it, and approached, and stole away with it among the reeds. As it disappeared the serpent shed its skin. When Gilgamesh found out what the serpent had done he sat down weeping by the pool of water. He took Urshànabi by the hand and said: "What shall I do? The journey has gone for nothing. For whom has my heart's blood been spent? For whom? For the serpent who has taken away the plant. I descended into the waters to find the plant and what I found was a sign telling me to abandon the journey and what it was I sought for." ix At twenty leagues they stopped only to eat. At thirty leagues they stopped to rest for the night. And so they traveled until they reached Uruk. There Gilgamesh the king said to the boatman: "Study the brickwork, study the fortification; climb the great ancient staircase to the terrace; study how it is made; from the terrace see the planted and fallow fields, the ponds and orchards. One league is the inner city, another league is orchards; still another the fields beyond; over there is the precinct of the temple. Three leagues and the temple precinct of Ishtar measure Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh."

i The Story of him who knew the most of all men know; who made the journey; heartbroken; reconciled; who knew the way things were before the Flood, the secret things, the mystery; who went to the end of the earth, and over; who returned, and wrote the story on a tablet of stone. He built Uruk. He built the keeping place of Anu and Ishtar. The outer wall shines in the sun like brightest copper; the inner wall is beyond the imagining of kings. Study the brickwork, study the fortification; climb the great ancient staircase to the terrace; study how it is made; from the terrace see the planted and fallow fields, the ponds and orchards. This is Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh the Wild Ox, son of Lugalbanda, son of the Lady Wildcow Ninsun, Gilgamesh the vanguard and the rear guard of the army, Shadow of Darkness over the enemy field, the Web, the Flood that rises to wash away the walls of alien cities, Gilgamesh the strongest one of all, the perfect, the terror. It is he who opened passes through the mountains; and he who dug deep wells on the mountainsides; who measured the world; and sought out Utnapishtim beyond the world; it is he who restored the shrines; two-thirds a god, one-third a man, the king. Go to the temple of Anu and Ishtar: open the copper chest with the iron locks; the tablet of lapis lazuli tells the story. ii There was no withstanding the aura or power of the Wild Ox Gilgamesh. Neither the father's son nor the wife of the noble; neither the mother's daughter nor the warrior's bride was safe. The old men said: "Is this the shepherd of the people? Is this the wise shepherd, protector of the people?" The gods of heaven listened to their complaint. "Aruru is the maker of this king. Neither the father's son nor the wife of the noble is safe in Uruk; neither the mother's daughter nor the warrior's bride is safe. The old men say: 'Is this the shepherd of the people? Is this the wise shepherd, protector of the people? There is no withstanding the desire of the Wild Ox.' " They called the goddess Aruru, saying to her: "You made this man. Now create another. Create his double and let the two contend. Let stormy heart contend with stormy heart that peace may come to Uruk once again." Aruru listened and heard and then created out of earth clay and divine spittle the double, the stormy-hearted other, Enkidu, the hairy-bodied wild man of the grasslands, powerful as Ninurta the god of war, the hair of his head like the grain fields of the goddess, naked as Sumuqan the god of cattle. He feeds upon the grasslands with gazelles; visits the watering places with the creatures whose hearts delight, as his delights, in water. iii One day a hunter came to a watering place and saw Enkidu; he stood expressionless, astonished; then with his silent dogs he went home to his father's house, fear in his belly. His face was as one estranged from what he knows. He opened his mouth and said to his father: "Father, I saw a hairy-bodied man today at the watering place, powerful as Ninurta the god of war; he feeds upon the grasslands with gazelles; he visits the watering places with the beasts; he has unset my traps and filled my hunting pits; the creatures of the grasslands get away free. The wild man sets them free. Because of him I am no longer a hunter." His father said: "Go to Uruk and there present yourself to Gilgamesh the king, who is the strongest of all, the perfect, the terror, the wise shepherd, protector of the people. Tell him about the power of the wild man. Ask him to send a harlot back with you, a temple prostitute, to conquer him with her greater power. When he visits the watering place, let her show him her breasts, her beauty, for his wonder. He will lie with her in pleasure, and then the creatures, the gazelles with whom he feeds upon the grasslands, and the others with whom he visits the watering places, will flee from him who ranged the hills with them." So the hunter went to Gilgamesh in Uruk and told him about the power of the wild man, and how he had unset the traps and filled the pits, so that the creatures got away free. The lord of Uruk said to the hunter then: "When you return, a temple prostitute will go with you and with her beauty conquer the wild man. He will lie with her and then the gazelles with whom he feeds upon the grasslands, and the others with whom he visits the watering places, will flee from him who ranged the hills with them." iv The harlot and the hunter traveled together, taking three days, back to the watering place. For three more days they waited, and finally Enkidu came with the creatures that love the water, the gazelles and the others, so as to drink their fill. The temple prostitute looked at him, Enkidu, the hairy-bodied wild man of the grasslands, the hair of his head like the grain fields of the goddess, naked as Sumuqan the god of cattle. "That is Enkidu, Shamhat, show him your breasts, show him your beauty. Spread out your cloak on the ground. Lie down on it. The wild man will look at you. Show him your body. The hairy-bodied man will come to you and lie down on you; and then show him the things a woman knows how to do. The gazelles and with them all the other creatures will flee from him who ranged the hills with them." And so the harlot, Shamhat, showed him her breasts, showed him her body. The hairy-bodied man came over to her, and lay down on her, and then she showed him the things a woman knows how to do. For seven days Enkidu in his wonder lay with her in pleasure, and then at last went to seek out the company of the creatures whose hearts delight in feeding upon the grasslands, and visiting the watering places, and ranging the hills. But seeing him, they fled. The creatures were gone, and everything was changed. His body that loved to range the hills was now unable to follow; but in the mind of the wild man there was beginning a new understanding. Bewildered, he turned, and sought out the company of the temple prostitute. He sat down beside her, and looked into her face, and listened to her: "Enkidu, now you are beautiful as a god. Why do you seek the company of beasts? Come with me to the city, to Uruk, to the temple of Anu and the goddess Ishtar. Gilgamesh is the ruler, the strongest of all, the terror. The aura and power of his desire can be withstood by no one." Then Enkidu, whose heart was beginning to know about itself and longed for a companion, cried aloud: "Take me to Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh, whose aura and power cannot be withstood. I will cry out in Uruk, challenging him: 'It is I, Enkidu. The strength of the wild man born in the wilderness cannot be withstood.' " The temple prostitute replied: "Come then to Uruk, where the processions are, and music, and let us go together through the dancing to the palace hall where Gilgamesh presides, the favorite of the gods, the beautiful, strongest of all, the terror, the most desired. Look at his radiant face, the favorite of Shamash and Enlil, Ea, and Anu. While you were grazing beastlike with gazelles, before your mind had any understanding, his mind, a gift to the gifted of the gods, had a dream of you before you knew of him. In the early morning Gilgamesh arose and told his mother his dream: 'I had a dream. A star fell from the heavens, a meteorite, and lay on the empty plain outside Uruk. The men and women came and wondered at it. I strove with it to lift it but could not. I was drawn to it as if it was a woman.' All-knowing Rimat-Ninsun spoke to him, the lord of Uruk, Gilgamesh. His mother, All-knowing Rimat-Ninsun, spoke and said: "The star that fell from the heavens, the meteorite that lay on the empty plain outside Uruk, the star you could not lift when you strove with it, the star you were drawn to as if drawn to a woman, is the strong companion, powerful as a star, the meteorite of the heavens, a gift of the gods. That you were drawn to it as if drawn to a woman means that this companion will not forsake you. He will protect and guard you with his life. This is the fortunate meaning of your dream.' Then Gilgamesh the lord of Uruk said: 'May the dream as you interpret come to pass.' " The temple prostitute thus told the tale.

The face looking into the room; Behind it light, shaking, like heat Lightning; the face calm and knowing; Seeing, but not seeing who I am; The mouth may be telling something. Something about our helplessness; Something about the confusions of beasts; The consequence of error; systems Haywire, or working; the stars gone All wrong in the body’s courses. Out on the plain of Mars, brilliantly Played under the lights, searched out Beyond any answer, the game went on Far into the night; the bloodiest came Home from the battle seeking the prize. The women were disgraced; hair streaming, Pleading into the staring: buy, buy—; Was it my daughter I was seeing?— The humiliation was pleasing: tears, Laughter, smiles, all mingled together. The light swallowed itself, a balloon Deflating; somewhere in the darkness A murmuring let itself go.

It was as if a flower bloomed as if Its muttering root and stem had suddenly spoken, Uttering on the air a poem of summer, The rose the utterance of its root and stem. Thus her beautiful face, the crippled girl’s, Was like the poem spoken by her body— The richness of that face!—most generous In what it keeps, giving in its having. The rose reserves the sweetness that it yields, Petal on petal, telling its own silence, Her beauty saying from its thorny stalk That what it is is kept as it is given.

It is an afternoon toward the end of August: Autumnal weather, cool following on, And riding in, after the heat of summer, Into the empty afternoon shade and light, The shade full of light without any thickness at all; You can see right through and right down into the depth Of the light and shade of the afternoon; there isn’t Any weight of the summer pressing down. In the backyard of the house next door there’s a kid, Maybe eleven or twelve, and a young man, Visitors at the house whom I don’t know, The house in which the sound of some kind of party, Perhaps even a wedding, is going on. Somehow you can tell from the tone of their voices That they don’t know each other very well— Two guests at the party, one of them, maybe, A friend of the bride or groom, the other the son Or the younger brother, maybe, of somebody there. A couple of blocks away the wash of traffic Dimly sounds, as if we were near the ocean. They’re shooting baskets, amiably and mildly. The noise of the basketball, though startlingly louder Than the voices of the two of them as they play, Is peaceable as can be, something like meter. The earnest voice of the kid, girlish and manly, And the voice of the young man, carefully playing the game Of having a grown-up conversation with him: I can tell the young man is teaching the boy by example, The easy way he dribbles the ball and passes it Back with a single gesture of wrist to make it Easy for the kid to be in synch; Giving and taking, perfectly understood.

The guest who came in to the street people’s suppers last night, An elderly man with a lost smart little boy’s face and a look As if he might turn against you anytime soon, As if he’d just come into this world and he was extremely Wary about what the world was going to be, and he said, “If I ask you a question will you give me a truthful answer?” And I said, “That depends on what the question is,” Thinking the little elderly boy looked sophisticated and As if he’d in fact been a long time in the world And would get the tone right, and maybe he did, or maybe he didn’t; At any rate he went on to ask the question, “When I come into places like this and there are people holding Coffee cups to their lips and they look at me, Are they about to drink the coffee or not to drink the coffee?” He was balancing the world on the tip of his witty unknowing nose. I felt like I was falling down someplace else than anywhere there.

I have a twin who bears my name; Bears it about with him in shame; Who goes a way I would not go; Has knowledge of things I would not know; When I was brave he was afraid; He told the truth, I lied; What’s sweet to me tastes bitter to him; My friends, my friends, he doesn’t love them; I walk the daylight in his dream; He breathes the air of my nightmare.

To Cornelius Nepos Who is it I should give my little book to, So pretty in its pumice-polished covers? Cornelius, I’ll give my book to you: Because you used to think my nothings somethings, At the time when you were the first in Italy To dare to write our whole long history, Three volumes, under the sign of Jupiter, Heroically achieved; so take this little Book of mine for what it’s worth; whatever; And oh, patroness Virgin, grant that it shall Live and survive beyond the century.

Honor is due to those who are keeping watch, Sentinels guarding their own Thermopylae; Never distracted from what is right to do, And right to be; in all things virtuous, But never so hardened by virtue as not to be Compassionate, available to pity; Generous if they’re rich, but generous too, Doing whatever they can, if they are poor; Always true to the truth, no matter what, But never scornful of those who have to lie. Even more honor is due when, keeping watch, They see that the time will come when Ephialtes Will tell the secret to the Medes and they Will know the way to get in through the goat-path.

It’s as when following the others’ lines, Which are the tracks of somebody gone before, Leaving me mischievous clues, telling me who They were and who it was they weren’t, And who it is I am because of them, Or, just for the moment, reading them, I am, Although the next moment I’m back in myself, and lost. My father at the piano saying to me, “Listen to this, he called the piece Warum?” And the nearest my father could come to saying what He made of that was lamely to say he didn’t, Schumann didn’t, my father didn’t, know why. “What’s in a dog’s heart”? I once asked in a poem, And Christopher Ricks when he read it said, “Search me.” He wasn’t just being funny, he was right. You can’t tell anything much about who you are By exercising on the Romantic bars. What are the wild waves saying? I don’t know. And Shelley didn’t know, and knew he didn’t. In his great poem, “Ode to the West Wind,” he Said that the leaves of his pages were blowing away, Dead leaves, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.