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Updated: June 17, 2025
Wait thou until the night, and we shall peer forth from between the boulders, and all men shall take note that the stars cannot whisper.... Yet it may be that they are pieces of the day. This is a deep matter. Oan: Ay! they are pieces of the moon! Uk: What further madness is this? How shall they be pieces of two things that are not the same? Also it was not thus in the song.
Did Ul, thy father, tell thee that he heard the stars whisper when he was in the tree-top? And of what moment is it that a star be a piece of the day, seeing that its light is of no value? Thou art a fool! Ok and Un: Thou art a fool! All the Tribe: Thou art a fool! Oan: But it was so born unto me.
Thou seest that they become still. None save me can make his kind be still, except perhaps the chief of the apes, when in the night he deems he hears a serpent.... At whom dost thou stare so long? At Oan? Oan, come to me! Oan: I am thy cub. Uk: Oan, thou art a fool! Ok and Un: Ho! ho! Oan is a fool! All the Tribe: Ho! ho! Oan is a fool! Oan: Why am I a fool? Uk: Dost thou not chant strange words?
Hast thou slain a deer in the forest and brought it not to the Stone? All the Tribe: Wa! Wa! He hath slain in the forest, and brought not the meat to the Stone! Uk: Be still, ye! Thou seest that they become still.... Oan, hast thou slain and kept to thyself? Oan: Nay, thou knowest that I am not apt at the chase.
O red liver!" And all the women in the caves shall be affrightened. Oan: I will not have that song of the liver! It shall be Ok's song; the tribe must say, "Ok hath made the song!" Ok: Ay! I shall be a great singer; I shall sing of a wolf's heart, and say, "Behold, it is red!" Uk: Thou art a fool, and shalt sing only, "Hai, hai!" as thy father before thee.
Had he not become still, Ok and Un would have beaten him with their clubs.... But, Oan, tell us those words that were born to thee when Ala did weep. They are such: The bright day is gone Uk: Now I see thou art liar as well as fool: behold, the day is not gone! Oan: But the day was gone in that hour when my song was born to me.
But now, as I strive here to sing of the doe's liver, no words are born unto me: I can but sing, "O liver! O red liver!" Uk: That is a good song: thou seest that the liver is red. It is red as blood. Oan: But I love not the liver, save to eat of it. Uk: Yet the song of it is good. When the moon is full we shall sing it about the Stone. We shall beat upon our breasts and sing, "O liver!
Ok and Un: Thou art a fool! All the Tribe: Thou art a fool! Uk: Yea, he is a fool. But say on, Oan, and tell us of thy chestnut-burs. Oan: I will begin again: The bright day is gone Uk: Thou dost not say, "gone, gone, gone!" Oan: I am thy cub. Suffer that I speak: so shall the tribe admire greatly. Uk: Speak on! Oan: I will begin once more: The bright day is gone. The night maketh me sad, sad
Oan: Truly I did eat of the liver of the she-deer; but to sing thereof is another matter. Uk: It was no labour for thee to sing of the stars. See now our clubs and casting-stones, with which we slay flesh to eat; also the caves in which we dwell, and the Stone whereon we make sacrifice; wilt thou sing no song of those? Oan: It may be that I shall sing thee songs of them.
Also it irks me to squat on a branch all day above a path, bearing a rock upon my thighs. Those words did but awaken within me when I was peaceless in the night. Uk: And why wast thou peaceless in the night? Oan: Thy mate wept, for that thou didst heat her. Uk: Ay! she lamented loudly.
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