Nikos Kazantzakis - Zorba The Greek

A group of men and women went by carrying baskets full of food and big bottles of wine. They were going to the gardens to celebrate the first of May. A girl sang and her voice was as clear as spring water. A little girl, her young breast already swelling, passed by me out of breath, and clambered on to a high rock. A pale and angry man with a black beard was chasing her.

"Come down, come down…" he cried hoarsely. But the gírl, her cheeks aflame, raised her arms, folded them behind her head and, gently swaying her perspiring body, sang:

Tell me with a laugh, tell me with a cry, Tell me you do not love me, What care I?

"Come down, come down…!" the bearded man was shouting, his hoarse voice begging and threatening by turns. All at once he leaped up and caught her by the foot, gripping it fiercely. She burst into tears as if only waiting for this brutal gesture to relieve her feelings.

I hurried on. All these sudden manifestations of joy stirred my heart. The old siren came into my mínd. I could see her-fat and perfumed and sated with kisses. She was lying beneath the earth. She must already have swollen and turned green. Her skin must have split, her body fluids must have oozed out and the maggots must be crawling over her now.

I shook my head with horror. Sometimes the earth becomes transparent and we see our ultimate ruler, the grub, working night and day in his underground workshops. But we quickly turn our eyes away, because men can endure everything except the sight of that small white maggot.

As I entered the village I met the postman preparing to blow his trumpet.

"A letter, boss!" he said, holding out a blue envelope.

I leaped for joy as I recognized the delicate handwriting. I hurried through the foliage, emerged by the olive grove, and impatiently opened the letter. It was brief and written in a haste. I read it straight through.

We have reached the frontiers of Georgia; we have escaped the Kurds and all's well. I at last know what happiness really is. Because it's only now that I have real experience of the old maxim: Happiness is doing your duty, and the harder the duty the greater the happiness.

In a few days these hounded, dying creatures will be at Batum, and I have just had a telegram which reads: "The first ships are in sight!"

These thousands of hard-working, intelligent Greeks, with their broad-hipped wives and fiery-eyed children, will soon be transported into Macedonia and Thrace. We are going to infuse a new and valiant blood into the old veins of Greece.

I have exhausted myself somewhat, I admit, but what does it matter? We have fought, my dear sir, and won. I am happy.

I hid the letter and hastened along. I too was happy. I took the steep track up the mountainside, rubbing a sweet-smelling sprig of thyme between my fingers. It was nearly noon and my dark shadow was concentrated about my feet. A kestrel was hovering, its wings beating so fast that it looked quite motionless. A partridge heard my steps, hurtled out of the brush and whirred into the air in its mechanical flight.

I was happy. Had I been able I would have sung out loud to relieve my feelings, but I could only make inarticulate cries. Whatever's happening to you? I asked myself mockingly. Were you as patriotic as that then, and never knew? Or do you love your friend so much? You ought to be ashamed! Control yourself and quiet down!

But I was transported with joy and continued along the track, shouting as I went. I heard a tinkling of goat bells. Black, brown and grey goats appeared on the rocks, in the full sun. The he-goat was in front, holding his neck rigid. The stench of him infected the air.

"Hallo, brother! Where are you off to? Who're you chasing'?"

A goatherd had jumped up on to a rock and was whistling after me with his fingers in his mouth.

"I've got something urgent to do!" I answered, and continued climbing.

"Stop a minute. Come and have a drink of goat's milk to refresh yourself!" shouted the goatherd, leaping from rock to rock.

"I told you I've got something urgent to do!" I shouted back. I did not want to cut short my joy by stopping to talk.

"D'you mean you despise my milk?" said the goatherd in a hurt tone. "Go on, then, and good luck to you!"

He put his fingers in his mouth again, whistled, and goats, dogs and goatherd disappeared behind the rocks.

I soon reached the summit of the mountain. Immediately, as though this had been my objective I became calm. I stretched out on a rock in the shade, and looked at the distant plain and sea. I breathed in deeply; the air was redolent with sage and thyme.

I stood up, gathered some sage, made a pillow and lay down again. I was tired. I closed my eyes.

For a moment my mind took flight to those far-off high plateaus covered with snow. I tried to imagine the little band of men, women and cattle making their way towards the north, and my friend walking ahead, like the ram at the head of the flock. But very soon my mind grew confused and I felt an invincible desire to sleep.

I wanted to resist. I did not wish to give way to sleep. I opened my eyes. A species of crow, an alpine chough, had settled on a rock directly in front of me, on the mountaintop. Its blue-black feathers shone in the sun and I made out very distinctly its large curved yellow beak. I was cross; this bird seemed to be a bad omen. I seized a stone and threw it at him. The chough calmly and slowly opened its wings.

I closed my eyes once more, unable to resist any longer, and sleep immediately overwhelmed me.

I could not have been asleep more than a few seconds when I uttered a cry and sat up with a start. The chough was passing at that very second above my head. I leaned against the rock, trembling all over. A violent dream had cut through my mind like a sword.

I saw myself in Athens, walking along Hermes Street, alone. The sun was burning hot, the street was deserted, the shops all shut, the solitude was complete. As I passed the church of Kapnikarea [31]I saw my fríend, pale and breathless, running up to me from the direction of Constitution Square. He was following a very tall, thin man, who was walking with giant strides. My friend was in full diplomatic uniform. He noticed me and shouted from some distance, in a breathless tone:

"Hello, what are you doing nowadays? I haven't seen you for ages. Come and see me tonight; we'll have a chat."

"Where?" I shouted in my turn, very loud, as if my friend were a long way off and I had to use all the strength in my voice to reach him.

" Concord Square, [32]this evening, six o'clock. The Fountain of Paradise Café!"

"Good!" I answered. "I'll be there!"

"You say you will," he said in a tone of reproach, "but you won't!"

"I will, for certain!" I cried. "Here's my hand on it!"

"I'm in a hurry."

"Why are you in a hurry? Give me your hand!"

He held out his hand and suddenly his arm came off from his shoulder and sailed through the air to seize my hand.

I was horrified by his icy grasp and woke with a start and a cry.

That was the moment when I discovered the chough hovering above my head. My lips seemed to be exuding poison.

I turned towards the east, riveting my eyes on the horizon as though wishing to penetrate the distance and see… I was sure my friend was in danger. I shouted his name three times:

"Stavridaki! Stavridaki! Stavridaki!"

As if I wanted to give him courage. But my voice was lost a few yards in front of me and faded into the atmosphere.

I rushed headlong down the mountainside track, trying to deaden my sorrow by fatigue. My brain struggled in vain to piece together those mysterious messages which sometimes manage to pierce the body and reach the soul. In the depths of my being, a strange certainty, deeper than reason, entirely animal in quality, filled me with terror. The same certainty which some beasts-sheep and rats-feel before an earthquake. Awakening in me was the soul of the first men on earth, such as it was before it became totally detached from the universe, when it still felt the truth directly, without the distorting influence of reason.