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.
Slovesno je zavaljeni Buck Mulligan prišel z vrha stopnišča, noseč skodelico za britje, na kateri sta prekrižana ležala ogledalo in britev. Blaga jutranja sapa je lahno napihovala za njim njegovo rumeno domačo haljo brez pasu. Privzdignil je skodelo in zapel:
»Introibo ad altare Dei.«
Ustavil se je, pokukal dol po temnih zavojnatih stopnicah in raskavo zaklical:
»Pridi gor, Kinch! Pridi gor, ti strašni jezuit!«
Slovesno je stopil naprej in se povzpel na okroglo ploščad za topove. Pogledal je naokoli in trikrat resnobno blagoslovil stolp, svet naokoli in budeče se gore. Potem je uzrl Stephena Dedalusa, sklonil se je proti njemu in začel naglo delati križe po zraku, oglašajoč se z grgravimi glasovi in stresajoč glavo. Stephen Dedalus je bil slabe volje in zaspan, oprl se je z rokami na vrhu stopnišča in se hladno zagledal v grgrajoči obraz, ki ga je blagoslavljal, dolg kakor konjski, ter v svetle, pramenaste lase brez tonzure, ki so po barvi spominjali na bledo hrastovino.
Buck Mulligan je za trenutek pokukal pod ogledalo in potem naglo pokril skodelo.
»Kar nazaj noter!« je rekel strogo.
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!
Mr. Leopold Bloom je z užitkom jedel notranje organe štirinožnih živali in perjadi. Rad je imel gosto juho iz gosje drobovine, slastne mišične želodce, nadevano pra- ženo srce, rezine jeter, pečene v drobtinah, pečene ikre polenovk. Najrajši je imel pečene ovčje ledvice, ki so mu prijetno dražile nebo z rahlim vonjem po urinu.
Ledvice so mu bile v mislih, ko se je tiho motal po kuhinji, pripravljajoč reči za njen zajtrk na grbavem pladnju. Svetloba in zrak v kuhinji sta bila mrzla, zunaj pa je bilo vsepovsod blago poletno jutro. Od tega ga je rahlo ščipalo po želodcu.
Oglje je začenjalo žareti.
Se eno rezino kruha z maslom: tri, štiri: prav. Ona ne mara polnega krožnika. Dobro. Pustil je pladenj, vzel s kaminske police kotliček in ga s strani pristavil k ognju. Široko, mračno je občepel tam, s štrlečim dulcem. Kmalu bo čaj. Dobro. Suha usta.
Mačka je z vzdignjenim repom togo obšla mizno nogo.
»Mijav!«
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.
Predvsem je Bloom očistil Stephena večine ostružkov in mu podal klobuk in jesenovo palico in ga nasploh skušal poživiti na ortodoksni samaritanski način, saj tega je bil prav hudo potreben. O njegovem (Stephenovem) duhu bi se sicer ne bilo dalo ravno reči, da blodi, bil pa je majčkeno negotov, in ko je izrazil željo, da bi dobil kaj pijače, se je Bloom glede na pozno uro in na to, da ni bilo pri roki nobenega hidranta vartryjske vode, da bi se vsaj umila, kaj šele da bi pila, domislil izhoda in kar pri priči predložil, da bi bilo primerno zavetje izvoščkov, kakor so pravili temu, komaj za streljaj proč blizu mostu Butt, češ da bi tam lahko naletela na káko pijačo v podobi mleka in sodavice ali kake slatine.
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...
Da ker nikoli prej ni storil česa takega da bi bil zahteval zajtrk v postelji hotelu City Arms ko se je včasih naredil bolnega ječečim glasom in igral gospoda da bi bil zanimiv tisti stari coprnici gospe Riordan o kateri je mislil da mu je zapisala ne vem kaj pa nama ni zapustila niti bora vse za maše zase in svojo dušo take skopulje ni bilo nikoli še tistih štirih penijev za denaturirani špirit ji je bilo žal pripovedovala mi je vse svoje bolezni koliko je znala starih čenč o politiki pa o potresih in o koncu sveta rajši se prej lepo imejmo Bog se usmili sveta ko bi bile vse ženske take kakor ona jezna na kopalne obleke in na izreze pod vratom seveda saj nikomur ni bilo da bi jih ona nosila najbrž je bila pobožna ker je noben moški ni dvakrat pogledal upam da ne bom nikoli taka kot ona še čudno da ni hotela naj si zakrivamo obraze bila je pa izobražena to je že res in kako je znala govoriti gospod Riordan sem in gospod Riordan tja... ko je bil najbrž srečen da je je bil rešen in njen pes je ovohaval moj kožuh in se zmerom plazil da bi mi zlezel gor pod spodnjim krilom posebno tedaj ko ampak to mi je vseeno všeč pri njem da je tako vljuden s starkami pa z natakarji tudi in z berači nič ni ošaben od malega mpak ne zmerom če bi bilo kdaj res kaj hudo gredo tedaj v bolnišnico ko je tam vse čisto pa najbrž bi ga morala siliti mesec dni da in potem bi bila takoj na vrsti bolmiška strežnica ker bi ostal tam dokler ga ne bi vrgli ven ali morda kaka nuna kakor tista umazana fotografija ki jo ima toliko je nuna kakor jaz da...
...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
...Grkov in Judov in Arabcev in vrag vedi koga še z vseh koncev Evrope in na Vojvodovo ulico in trg za perutnino kjer je vse kokodakalo pred Larbyjem Sharonom in na uboge osličke ki so se spotikali napol v spanju in na tiste čudne moške v plaščih ki so spali v senci na stopnicah in na velika kolesa voz z volovsko vprego in na stari grad tisoče let star da in na tiste zale Mavre vse v belem in v turbanih kakor kralji ki so te vabili da se usedi v njegovi mali prodajalni in na Rondo s starimi okni posad 2 bleščečih oči ki jih je skrivala rešetka da bi njen ljubček poljubljal železo in na gostilne napol odprte ponoči in na kastanjete in na večer ko smo zamudili ladjo v Algecirasu na čuvaja ki je vedro hodil okoli s svojo svetilko in O na tisti grozni tok globoko spodaj O in na morje morje včasih škrlatno kakor ogenj in veličastne zahode in na figovce v parku Alameda da in na vse čudne uličice in rožnate in modre in rumene hiše in na rožne vrtove in jasmin in geranije in kaktuse in Gibraltar kot dekle kjer sem bila Gorski cvet da ko sem si zataknila rožo v lase kakor so delala andaluzijska dekleta ali pa naj nosim rdečo da in kako me je poljubil pod mavrskim zidom in mislila sem dobro prav tako je lahko on kakor kdo drug in potem sem ga z očmi povabila naj poprosi vnovič da in potem me je vprašal ali hočem da reči da moja gorska cvetka in najprej sem ga objela da in ga potegnila nase tako da je lahko čutil moje prsi vso vonjavo da in njegovo srce je utripalo kakor ponorelo in da sem rekla da hočem Da.
Trst─Zürich─Pariz
1914─1921