Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
     - Introibo ad altare Dei.
     Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:
     - Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful Jesuit!
     Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
     Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
     - Back to barracks, he said sternly.

Solemne e repoludo, Buck Mulligan descendeu dende o alto da escaleira, portando unha almofía chea de escuma de barbear, encol da cal se cruzaban unha navalla e un espello. Unha bata amarela, solta, aboiaba delicadamente ás súas costas coa avelaíña airexa da mañá. Ergueu a almofía e entoou:
     -Introibo ad altare Dei.
     Deténdose, esculcou pola escura escaleira espiral abaixo e exclamou nun ton groseiro:
     Sube, Kinch! Sube, xesuíta sinistro!
     Avanzou maxestoso e subiu á canoneira circular. Deu media volta e por tres veces bendixo con ademán grave a torre, a terra circundante e mais as montañas que alborexaban. Logo, ao enxergar a Stephen Dedalus, inclinouse cara a el e trazou rápidas cruces no ar, a gorxa gurgullando e sansanicando a cabeza. Stephen Dedalus, amuado e medio adormecido, apoiou os brazos no alto da escaleira e fitou frío o rostro que sansanicaba e gurgullaba mentres o bendicía, a longa cabeza equina e o cabelo claro, intonso, coas vetas e os matices do carballo pálido.
     Mulligan espreitou un instante por baixo do espello e tapou de golpe a almofía.
     -Rompan filas! -dixo severo.

     Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.
Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him feel a bit peckish.
     The coals were reddening.
     Another slice of bread and butter: three, four: right. She didn’t like her plate full. Right. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off the hob and set it sideways on the fire. It sat there, dull and squat, its spout stuck out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry. The cat walked stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high.
     - Mkgnao!

Moito lle gorentaban ao señor Leopold Bloon os órganos internos de bestas e aves. Gustáballe a sopa de miúdos ben espesa, as moegas picantes, o corazón recheo asado, os filetes de fígado empanados, as rabas de bacallau fritidas. O que máis lle prestaba eran os riles de cordeiro á grella, que lle deixaban no ceo da boca un delicioso saibo cun leve recendo a ouriños.
     Riles era o que tiña na mente mentres se movía pola cociña sen facer ruído, axeitando na bandexa panda o almorzo dela. Ar e luz eran xélidos na cociña, mais fóra, en todas as partes, era unha agradábel mañá de verán. En- troulle larica.
     O carbón arrubiaba.
     Outra rebanda de pan con manteiga: tres, catro: está. A ela non lle gustaba que lle enchesen o prato. Está. Afastándose da bandexa, levantou o fervedoiro do fogón e pousouno de lado no lume. Alí quedou, amortecido e chaparro, co biquelo ergueito. Non tardaba o té. Estupendo. Boca seca. A gata camiñaba toda foncha arredor dunha pata da mesa co rabo requichado.
     -Mrmiau!

     Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion which he very badly needed. His (Stephen’s) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a bit unsteady and on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry water available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes hit upon an expedient by suggesting, off the reel, the propriety of the cabman’s shelter, as it was called, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a milk and soda or a mineral.

Pois antes de máis nada, Bloom sacudiulle a maior parte das serraduras e tendeulle a Stephen o chapeu e o caxato de freixo e aviouno ata certo punto, consonte a boa ortodoxia samaritana, da que moita necesidade tiña. A súa mente (a de Stephen) non estaba precisamente o que se di desvariando senón un tanto trastornada, e coma queira manifestou o desexo de beber algo, Bloom, vista a hora que era e non habendo por alí ningunha fonte pública dispoñíbel para as súas ablucións, canto menos potábel, deu coa solución ao suxerir, irreflexivamente, que o refuxio do cocheiro, como era coñecido, só a unha carreiriña de can, a carón de Butt Bridge, era lugar oportuno onde atoparen algo bebíbel en forma de leite con sifón ou auga mineral.

     Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting for that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all her ailments she had too much old chat in her about politics and earthquakes and the end of the world let us have a bit of fun first God help the world if all the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks of course nobody wanted her to wear them I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice I hope Ill never be like her a wonder she didnt want us to cover our faces but she was a welleducated woman certainly and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and Mr Riordan there...

Si porque el xamais fixera semellante cousa pedir que lle levasen un par de ovos para almorzar na cama dende os tempos do hotel City Arms onde finxía acotío que estaba encamado con voz de enfermo figurando que era un gran señor para facer o interesante coa vella bruxa da señora Riordan que coidaba que a tiña no papo e despois nin un rabo de can nos deixou todo para misas polo seu eterno descanso e o da súa alma só soltaba o que lle caía de entre os dedos conicha ata para gastar catro peniques en alcohol de queimar e veña a falarme dos seus alifafes que tiña unha leria coa política e os terremotos e a fin do mundo máis vale divertirse un pouco antes que Deus nos libre se todas as mulleres fosen coma vostede contra os traxes de baño e os escotes que tampouco pretendía ninguén que ela os levase para min que era tan beata porque non houbo home que se volvese para mirala espero non chegar nunca a ser coma ela milagre que non nos fixese tapar tamén a cara non digo eu que non fose instruída mais veña a cacarexar co señor Riordan por aquí e o señor Riordan por alá...

...the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Trieste-Zurich-Paris
1914-1921

…nos gregos nos xudeus nos árabes e vai saber que máis xentes de todos os recunchos de Europa e en Duke Street no ron e nos pobres burros que escorregaban medio durmidos mercado das aves co cacarexar diante da casa de lady Shanos calaceiros embozados nas capas que durmían á sombra nas escaleiras e nas grandes rodas dos carros dos touros na vella fortaleza de miles de anos de antigüidade si e nos que mouros tan lindos todos de branco e turbante talmente reis che pedían que entrases nas súas tendas pequerrechiñas e en Ronda coas fiestras antigas das posadas 2 ollos a esculcar que a celosía ocultaba á espera de que o amante bi- case nos barrotes e nas adegas entreabertas pola noite e nas castañolas e naquela noite cando perdemos a lancha de Alxeciras o garda de rolda o sereno co seu farol e Ai aquel tremendo cavorco tan fondo Ai e no mar o mar por veces carmesí coma un incendio que espléndidos os solpores nas figueiras do parque da Alameda si e nas calellas todas tan estrañas nas casas rosas brancas amarelas e nas roseiras nos xasmíns nos xeranios nos cactos e en Xibraltar cando mociña onde fun unha flor da montaña fun cando puña unha rosa no pelo coma as rapazas andaluzas ou levarei unha vermella si e en como me bicaba ao pé da Muralla dos mouros e pensei en fin tanto vale este coma outro e collín díxenlle cos ollos que me volvese pedir o si quero e entón pregun- toume se quería si dicir si quero miña flor da montaña e primeiro abraceino si e puxeino contra min para que sentise ben o meu peito todo perfume si e o corazón del desbocábase e si dixen eu si quero Quero.
Trieste - Zürich - París
1914-1921