Phoebe Giannisi "Kernos: A Plate For All" [04 Chickpea to Cook]

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Chickpea to Cook / Enivrez-Vous

*NOON. TAVERNA “AVRA”. BY THE SEA. VOLOS. AUGUST 2012.

Il faut être toujours ivre.

Tout est là: c’est l’unique question.

Pour ne pas sentir l’horrible fardeau du Temps qui brise vos épaules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.

Mais de quoi?

De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, à votre guise.

Mais enivrez-vous.

Et si quelquefois, sur les marches d’un palais, sur l’herbe verte d’un fossé, dans la solitude morne de votre chambre, vous vous réveillez, l’ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue, demandez au vent, à la vague, à l’étoile, à l’oiseau, à l’horloge, à tout ce qui fuit, à tout ce qui gémit, à tout ce qui roule, à tout ce qui chante, à tout ce qui parle, demandez quelle heure il est; Charles Baudelaire, Enivrez-vous

Always be drunk.

That’s it!

The great imperative!

In order not to feel Time’s horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way.

On what?

On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.

But get drunk.

And if you sometimes happen to wake up on the porches of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the dismal loneliness of your own room, your drunkenness gone or disappearing, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, ask everything that flees, everything that groans or rolls or sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is; Charles Baudelaire, Get Drunk 3

οἶνος μὲν πρώτιστα θοὴν ἀνὰ νῆα μέλαιναν ἡδύποτος κελάρυζ᾽ εὐώδης, ὤρνυτο δ᾽ ὀδμὴ ἀμβροσίη: ναύτας δὲ τάφος λάβε πάντας ἰδόντας. αὐτίκα δ᾽ ἀκρότατον παρὰ ἱστίον ἐξετανύσθη ἄμπελος ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα, κατεκρημνῶντο δὲ πολλοὶ βότρυες Homeric Hymn to Dionysus (35-40)

“Il est l’heure de s’enivrer!

Pour n’être pas les esclaves martyrisés du Temps, enivrez-vous; enivrez-vous sans cesse!

De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise.”

Charles Baudelaire, Enivrez-vous

First of all sweet, fragrant wine ran streaming throughout all the black ship and a heavenly smell arose, so that all the seamen were seized with amazement when they saw it. And all at once a vine spread out both ways along the top of the sail with many clusters hanging down from it

Homeric Hymn to Dionysus (35-40): Translated by Hugh G. Evelyn-White

”Time to get drunk!

Don’t be martyred slaves of time, Get drunk!

Stay drunk!

On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!”

Charles Baudelaire, Get Drunk

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A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot where it’s being boiled.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The cook knocks him down with the ladle.

“Don’t you try to jump out.

You think I’m torturing you.

I’m giving you flavour, so you can mix with spices and rice and be the lovely vitality of a human being.

Remember when you drank rain in the garden.

That was for this.”

Grace first. Sexual pleasure, then a boiling new life begins, and the Friend has something good to eat.

Rumi, Chickpea to cook: Translated by Coleman Barks

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Enivrez-Vous

Τώρα ξεμέθυσα. enivrez-vous sans cesse!

Πιάσ’το τουρμπάνι μου. Γέμισέ μου το ασκί ή δώσ’το πίσω άδειο ό,τι θες.

Il est l’heure de s’enivrer!

Charles Baudelaire, Enivrez-vous

Μια πρόποση Ξενοδόχε! Μισή κούπα για σένα μισή για μας.

Rumi

Get Drunk

I am sober again.

Stay drunk!

Reach my turban for me.

Fill my bag or give it back empty as you fancy.

Time to get drunk!

Charles Baudelaire, Get Drunk

A toast, Innkeeper!

Half a cup for you and half for us.

Rumi: Translated by Konstantinos Matsoukas

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Όχι. Περίμενε. Δώσ’μας ολόκληρο βαρέλι. Εσύ που παρασέρνεις άντρες γυναίκες σ’αυτή τη λαχτάρα. Σπάσε την πόρτα μου απόψε! Κλέψε μου ό,τι δηλώνω στην κατοχή μου. Δροσερός και καθαρός θα γινόταν ο ωκεανός αν του’σταζες δύο στάλες στα νερά του. Το φεγγάρι και η Πούλια θα βούταγαν σαν δυο πουλιά αν πέταγες στον αέρα το τελευταίο κρασί σου.

Rumi

No. Wait up.

Give us a whole barrel.

You who lure men, women into this craving.

Break down my door tonight! Steal everything I declare in my possession.

The ocean would turn clear and cool if you tipped two drops in its waters.

The moon and the Morning Star would dive into two birds if you tossed the last of your wine in the air.

Rumi: Translated by Konstantinos Matsoukas

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Σα μαγεμένο το μυαλό μου φτερουγίζει Η κάθε σκέψη μου κοντά σου τριγυρίζει.

Song by Bayaderas

As if bewitched, my mind flits about My every thought flutters near you.

Song by Bayaderas

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Chickpea to Cook / Get Drunk

*NOON. TAVERNA “AVRA”. BY THE SEA. VOLOS. AUGUST 2012.