Collected Poems by Anthony Burgess (best e ink reader for manga txt) 📕

much,’ said Moses. ‘The tribal elders

Are too old to set a good example there.’ –

‘As I said,’ cried Aaron, ‘as I always said.’

I’d give all his Promised Land to be

Coming home from work in Goshen. Water.

A bite to eat. More water. So they were all saying.

They came to rock, a rocky land, and Moses,

Showing no weariness, comforting the snarling weary,

Saw two young men, not of his tribe, but of Joshua’s tribe,

Wresting from a wailing group of the old a water-skin,

Then drinking thirstily, spilling wantonly in the sand

Much water in their haste and greed. The old wailed.

And Moses said: ‘Theft, my brothers, theft.

We will have no theft. They have prudently saved their water.

You have imprudently used up yours. Now you steal.’

An insolent youth said: ‘Moses, this is the law.

The law that this desert of yours has taught us.

God made them weak. God makes us strong’, water

Dripping from his insolent young mouth. And Moses said:

‘The strength of the body is nothing. Is a crocodile

Better than a man? Men, my young brothers,

Are strong in a different way. What a man has

He has through foresight and prudence.

You shall not take from him what he has.’ And the other youth:

‘What will you do to us, Moses?’ Sneering. ‘Send down

Another plague? You would do far better to

Lead us to water. Including these weak and

Prudent snivellers here.’ And Moses said:

‘I will lead you to water. In time. But now I tell you

That you must not steal.’ Grinning: ‘No more than that?’ –

‘No more,’ said Moses, ‘for the moment. The time shall come

When we will try a man for stealing. Will exact

On the common behalf just punishment. But that time

Is not yet. For now, think that you are

Displeasing to the Lord. And that the Lord

Could strike you down if he wished. But that the Lord

Would prefer you to learn how to be men.

Not crocodiles.’ And he passed on. And they sneered.

But did not sneer at Joshua, the young, the muscled

Progressive. So the thirsty journey continued,

Until, in that rocky wilderness, under a copper sky,

The sun all burning bronze, they came upon

A spring, a feeble spring running through rock,

And they feebly cheered, limping with their

Pots and cups and water-skins, while Joshua

And Caleb and the young of the tribe of Levi

Watched grimly, keeping guard, letting the old

To the stream first, trembling with relief and joy as they…

And then the old man screeched feebly: ‘No. No.

Nobody can drink this. Salt. It’s salt.’ Groans

And spittings and the mutter of anger, then more than a mutter.

The sneering youth: ‘He said he’d lead us to water.

But what kind of water he didn’t say.’ And Dathan:

‘You said you knew this place like the back of your hand.

Every rock and spring you said you knew,

Every tree and stone. But you were lying.

Lying, weren’t you? The Lord was lying too.

If he exists, that is. What now, great one,

Do you propose to do?’ Moses, wearily,

Humbly even: ‘One cannot always. Be exactly sure.

We have been taken. So much off the path. That I knew.

Strayed sheep. Stragglers. I promise you, promise.’

Faltering. But Dathan cried: ‘All promises.

Promised freedom, promised land, promised

Milk and honey, promised, promised. We can

Do without the milk and honey. We want water.

Water.’ That one word taken up – water water

Water water. And later, to the night sky,

Moses spoke, wretched, solitary: ‘Lord Lord,

What shall I do with these peevish children? Lord,

Tell me what I must do. Man is strangely made.

Fill him with bread, or water, and his spirit

Comes alive, ready to brood on heaven, on you, on

Human freedom. But let the meanest of your gifts

Elude him, and he croaks like a fractious frog.

Tell me, Lord, tell me. What shall I do?’

And what the Lord said or seemed to say,

Not from the silver and empurpled firmament

But from some dank small room in the skull of Moses,

Even in sunlight, the dead tree-trunk in his arms,

Ready to hurl. ‘Throw,’ said Moses. ‘Believe.’

And Aaron hurled the trunk into the salt stream,

Unbelieving. ‘Now,’ said Moses, ‘let them drink.

Let them at least taste it.’ Some tasted,

With sour faces of unbelief, then, believing, drank,

The wonder of thirst satisfied occluding

Simple wonder. Joshua, Caleb, others policed

The thirsty, screeching their joy, while Aaron said:

‘How much longer will they have to be given miracles?

They cry like babies, expecting the breast

Always ready to be bared to them.’ But Moses:

‘They must be led easily. Easily.

They have to be weaned into freedom.’ And the water

Bubbled in preternatural clarity and sweetness,

In potability, never-ending, and Dathan grinned,

Sleek with water, in forgiveness. ‘Weaned, weaned.’

So the weeks passed, the days notched by Moses,

And the Sabbath observed, though not clearly understood,

With the cries of water water renewed, the journey

Upwards, over rocky land, the old and sick faltering,

The young learning to help the old and sick,

And Moses as weary as any, showing his age,

Till at last they reached a summit of rock and looked down,

And Joshua opened his mouth in joy and a cry:

‘Elim?’ They looked. Mountain beyond, but below

Springs, tamarind, palm, green grass like a

Torrent of emeralds. ‘This,’ said Aaron, ‘this

Is the true miracle.’ So they descended and encamped,

Some thinking that this was already the promised land,

The sheep and cattle going hungrily to grass,

The young bathing, playing in the springs,

The hungry eating dates from the date-palms,

Sheltering under the palms. ‘The promised land?’

But Moses smiled and shook his head. At night,

Under the incredible heaven, the flute sounded,

The drum, the harp, there was song and dance,

And Moses, walking, came across love in the shadows,

A couple starting guiltily as the shadow

Of Moses came upon them, Moses saying,

Gently, always gently: ‘You, my brother,

I do not know. The woman I think I know. Sister,

Are you not the wife of Eliphaz?’ She nodded,

Dumbly, and the man was ready to speak, truculent.

‘Eliphaz’, said Moses, ‘is old, near-blind.

He is content to play with his children, yours.

Youth is drawn to youth and to the

Lusty pleasures of the bed. I know, I know.

But it is a sinful bed.’ The man replied,

Truculent: ‘There is no sin in pleasure.’

‘Nor’, said Moses, ‘should there be pleasure in sin.

For good or ill, a family should not be broken.

Your husband, sister, if he knew,