“The Engineer”. Part 4 of Book I.Book I: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Interlude.
Book II: 1, 2, 3, 4.

I always love new planets,
I always hate waking the professors.

A smooth landing,
like a feather falling upon silk;
Were it not for the rockets,
I’d bet a man I could take off
and leave less than a dozen blades of,
whatever they call grass on Serretti IV.

I asked them what the grass was called,
“We are scientists,”
they said,
then went about their worship.

I always love exploring new places,
I always hate talking to the geniuses.

The days are strange here,
the dawns take forever,
and the dusk even longer.

I see things that used to be other things that I know.

There goes an angry thing that used to be a butterfly,
and there a violent plant that used to a lily.

These too long days,
leave too much time,
to think,
and labor.

Sweat smells sickly here,
something in the air,
“We are scientists,”
they said,
when asked about the smell,
and sensually ritualized their machines.

The nights are bitter and full of wind;
the night creatures ever more bitter,
and much sharper than the wintry winds;
they hulked just out of sight,
which terrified me
and made me hate the scientists even more.

The repulsive, bulging things
that pass for insects here,
infest the dawn,
the air filled with vibrations
and the ugly colored birds scream,
agony drowns out the humming,
and their bodies fall like stones from the sky.

Then, another day of work,
and scientists.

Still, it is lovely;
Every day makes the sweat on my brow
feel like a crown.
Every night brings dreams of bliss,
endless gardens and happiness.
The wood-stuff burns fragrantly,
and even the scientists enjoy
the simplicity of fire and brotherhood.

Still again,
I’ll be happy to leave;
I always hate waking the madmen.