Before the oarsmen of Odysseus
would leave their mark upon the wine-dark sea,
I can divine the indefinable forms
of that old god whose name was Proteus.
Shepherd of the wave-flocks of the waters
and wielder of the gift of prophecy,
he liked to make a secret of his knowledge
and weave a pattern of ambiguous signs.
At the demand of people, he took on
the substance of a lion or a bonfire
or a tree, spreading shade on the river bank
or water which would disappear in water.
Proteus the Egyptian should not surprise you,
you, who are one, but also many others.