by Homer （Translated by Robert Fitzgerald）

    An old trunk of olive

    grew like a pillar on the building plot，

    and I laid out our bedroom round that tree，

    lined up the stone walls， built the walls and roof，

    gave it a doorway and smooth-fitting doors.

    Then I lopped off the silvery leaves and branches，

    hewed and shaped that stump from the roots up

    into a bedpost， drilled it， let it serve

    as model for the rest. I planed them all，

    inlaid them all with silver， gold and ivory，

    and stretched a bed between——a pliant web

    of oxhide thongs dyed crimson.