Page 9 - Omar!

with a quatrain linking that theme to the immediate situation of
Omar and the Vine-daughter:

I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

Wonderful transition, don’t you think?”
Robert Baron appeared unmoved. “Whatever you say. The Bird of
Time pops up in the tree; they have some more wine, and then pack
it in and exit right. So much for Act One. Act Two starts off in the
town square, marketplace on one side of the stage, mosque on the
other. Various characters milling around, doing their thing. Omar and
the young lady enter left and stop at a potter’s stall, where our hero
delivers a brief and seemingly humorous song, camping it up with
some clay pots.”
Fey laughed. “Is that what your informants thought was going on?
Omar does carry out a mock dialog with an earthen wine vessel,
continuing the last scene’s motif of organic recycling with a bit of
black humor. Most people do not stop to consider that their food,
clothing, and shelter are composed in part of atoms or molecules
once possibly part of another human being; it’s not a pleasant
viewpoint, but one that Omar considered philosophically necessary
to take in order to arrive at the truth. And, for his time and place, it
was a remarkably modern or scientific notion, I’d say.”
“Too damned modern.” Robert Baron’s smooth roast-beef
coloring paled noticeably. His hand trembled as he held up a letter
with a dark green letterhead. “The next thing your hero does is insult
two or three sects of Islam. These are not the kind of people you
want congregating under the marquee with murder in their hearts.”
“Indeed? I didn’t know the faithful were permitted to partake of
theatrical entertainment.” Barnaby Fey gave no indication of sharing
the other’s trepidation.
Baron put down the letter and returned to his annotated libretto.
“From the potter, Omar and the Vine-daughter cross the square,
passing the mosque; the Bird of Time, perched atop the minaret,
screeches at them when they stop to look within. The audience sees a
bunch of saints, sages, and doctors arguing noisily, accompanied by
woodwinds. Then Omar starts ridiculing them.”
8