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Updated: May 2, 2025
The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton. Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them in the original. Thalatta! Thalatta! She is our great sweet mother. Come and look. Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Leaning on it he looked down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of Kingstown. Our mighty mother! Buck Mulligan said.
She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and opens her toothless mouth uttering a silent word. THE CHOIR: Liliata rutilantium te confessorum... Iubilantium te virginum... BUCK MULLIGAN: She's beastly dead. The pity of it! Mulligan meets the afflicted mother. I am dead. No. What bogeyman's trick is this? Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket. Epi oinopa ponton.
If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I am not. Across the sands of all the world, followed by the sun's flaming sword, to the west, trekking to evening lands. She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, moondrawn, in her wake. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, oinopa ponton, a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon.
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