Page 9 - Omar!
P. 9

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.”
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