Black Books

Here the path becomes slippery, one-half of the way is white, the other black. I step onto the black side and recoil horrified-it is hot iron.

I step onto the white half- it is ice.

But so it must be. I run as fast as possible, one moment on the hot iron, the other on the cold ice, and finally the valley widens into a mighty rocky basin.

A narrow path winds up along almost vertical rocks to a mountain pass.

As I approach the pass, something sounds and booms from the other side of the mountain like ore.

The sound comes closer and swells mightily.

It thunders from afar like a hundred forging hammers and echoes manifoldly and powerfully in the mountain.

As I reach the pass, I see an enormous man approach from the other side.

Two bull horns rise from his great head, and a rattling suit of armor covers his chest.

His black beard is ruffled and square.

His bare legs are covered with shaggy black hair.

The giant is carrying in his hand a black iron battle-axe inlaid with silver.

Before I can recover completely from my amazement, the giant is standing before me and I look at his face-it is faint and pale, deeply furrowed with wrinkles.

His almond-shaped eyes look at me astonished.

Horror takes hold of me-this is Izdubar-the mighty-the bull-man.

He stands and looks at me.

His face speaks of-consuming inner fear- and his hands and knees tremble.

Izdubar, the powerful, trembling? Is he frightened? ~Carl Jung, The Black Books, Vol. III, Pages 119-120