THE ODYSSEY, BOOK 11, LINES 538–556

The soul of swift-soled Achilles, hearing me

Praise his son, silvered, and then was gone,

His long strides causing him to blend, light-bent,

Into the shining, maize-meadow cloudbank

Shadowed by that one solitary tree

It takes sixteen years for light, let alone

A soul, to cross.

                            The other dead, who thrived

Though they had died, rejoiced at seeing me

And sang, one by one, to me; and I in

Turn said back to one after the other

That the song that soul sang was a blessing

And that I had never heard anything

Like it; which was true, but also, I must

Admit, they bored me to tears, tears that their

Surprisingly still finite knowledge took

As tears of pure joy from hearing them sing.

Only Ajax Telamoniades

Kept away, arms crossed, refusing to speak,

Dim-starred and disappearing into his rage.

All because of a simple spar of words,

A mere speech, and winning Achilles’ armor.

Athena above and those men at the ships

Decided that, not me, although it’s true

He never stood a chance. By custom he

Should have been given the matchless metal.

How I wish I hadn’t won that contest.

How the ground closed over his head for it.

What a fool I can be. Ajax. Who knew

No equal in action but for the one

Man who surpassed him, just-fled Achilles,

So capable of happiness despite

All that happened because he washed up here,

Heaven: this implausible place for us.

Strange that Ajax is also in Heaven

Despite ending his legendary life.

In the end he’s won, but he doesn’t seem

To understand he’s won. Poor Ajax—

As always, I thought I had winning words,

And so I said to him with unreturned gaze:

“Son of great Telamon, mighty Ajax,

War tower, shake free of your anger.

There’s no one to blame but Zeus, and look—

He is no longer here, friend. Paradise

Has found you and given you an eternal

Roof under the one tree of High Heaven.

Zeus treated us so terribly, and you,

Whom he should have loved like his strongest son,

You worst of all.

                             —But that’s history

Now. Come, my strong brother, lord and deserved

Winner of all Achilles wore and was,

Come, be with us here; let me hear the light

Of Heaven in your voice; and let me know,

Because I love you, how you (of all men!)

Ended up in the keen of this endless berm.”

But Ajax, gift-eyed, said nothing to me

And took his seat under the rowan tree.