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.