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.