Friday, October 10, 2014

EC 429/ 3 Smartass John
Eso A.B.
Smartass John and Crazy Jane
Scene 2 / First part of the Journey
Translated by © Eso A.B.

Synopsis: Smartass John begins a journey to the Old Witch’s Inn where the Midsummer ritual of ‘Community Reconstitution’ is about to take place. When he arrives, the celebrants are done with the orgiastic celebrations, but neglect to await the blessings of the Sun Goddess. The failure to await the Sun, turns the participants into consumers of pleasure. The Sun is outraged.

Rozinante carried Smartass John
over mountains and valleys.
All day passed.
By the evening of tomorrow,
When the eve of Johns begins,
Rozinante began to limp,
and Smartass John does not
arrive at Old Ra-Zhanna’s Inn
on time.

The Poet:
The revels at the Old Witch’s Inn
went on without Smartass John.
All about him in the hills
burned the sacred fires of Johns night.
The fires were lit by proto-Estonians,
Proto-Latvians, Lithuanians, and Prussians
proto-everyone; all unglobalized
proto-European tribes
that lived in the wood.
Smartass John urged Rozinante
to step faster,
and himself climbed from the saddle
and went on foot.

By the time Smartass John and Rozinante
arrived at Old Ra-Zhanna’s Inn,
the eve of Johns had come to an end.
The horizon was bright.
The Sun was soon to rise.

The Poet:
Wherever Smartass John looked
everything evidenced the celebration
had been more than real.
Heavy snoring came from
God’s Own many Devils
and Old Ra-Zhanna’s own daughters.
They all had had a go at it.

Still, Smartass John was not surprised.
The Balts of old were known
for their merry making.
Sometimes they drank for three days straight,
Sometimes for two weeks without a break.
Everyone lay were they had fallen
as after an orgy of emotion
hat only too much beer and wine
can put to sleep.

But there was a problem:
tradition required that
all celebrants without exception
stay awake until the Sun
broke through the dawn’s early light.
The Sun had to give Her blessings
on the night’s proceedings.

Only the Old Witch Ra-Zhanna,
said to be the Sun’s granddaughter
was excused, because
following the revels
she always knew to disappear—
no one knew where.

Rumor had it that
if the Sun was not met
by all and sundry,
all Hell would break lose,
and the river Styx and all water wells
would overflow with fire.
and consume all sick souls.

Chorus (right):
In proto-Latvian times everyone knew
that Hell would come
if on the morn of sacred Johns
the Sun was not received.
If anyone was asleep,
Old Ra-Zhanna would mysteriously appear
and, no excuses accepted,
chop off his or her head.

Chorus (left):
Unfortunately on that sacred day
The Sun had been
carelessly forgot.
Perhaps this was because
Presidents elected by Parliament
had replaced kings of old.
Such presidents do not shy away
from becoming reactionaries
who support globalization
on behalf of the elites.

Sure of their God,
instituted by the Peace of Westphalia,
and the Supreme Court of America,
the revelers forgot God’s Own Devil
and the cellars
aflame below
the “Hotel Hell” he owns.

Wherever Smartass John looked,
all the inn’s guests slept
with their arms and legs hanging
over edges of tables and chairs.
Not a single one of Gods own Devils
had paid attention to tradition,
to the Sun, the Creatrix.

The nights of Johns and January
had been forgot.

Chorus (left):
All had come to believe
that warnings of hell to come
was something of a joke.

Of all of Ra-Zhannas daughters,
whom Fortuna,
the Goddess of Fate
had selected for brides
to the seven brothers,
only one was still awake.

This was Crazy Jane,
The daughter of
Old Mad Ra-Zhanna
and God’s Own Devil,
The Sun’s granddaughter.

All the other sisters
here stretched out wherever
beer or wine
had put them and their lovers
to sleep.

Why was Crazy Jane still awake?
Smartass John soon found out.
He discovered that while his brothers
had danced with her,
they had not got off their rocks with her,
and had, thus,
abandoned her.

The Poet:
Not least, while her six sisters
and the six brothers had
swung ever higher
(the swing on the branch
of the old oak in the yard
had creaked all night long)
Crazy Jane’s heart grew
ever more sore.

The heart of Crazy Jane,
as they say,
Had marinated in her own juices
for the entire night.
She was as sweet
as she was sour.

That is when Smartass John,
at last, came in
through the door of Ra-Zhanna’s Inn.

Crazy Jane:
How goes it, Sweetheart?

Smartass John:
My sweet apple,
I have never been better.
It’s only that right now
I am a little tired.

Crazy Jane:
I understand that, Smartass John.
I have a bed for you ready.
I know how to think ahead.

Smartass John:
Yes, Softspot.
If you are as crazy for nuts
as your praises praise you,
you surely know
that I do not wish to sleep alone.

Crazy Jane:
Sweetheart, let it not bother you.
You will not be alone.
When it comes to rocking,
I enjoy it as much as
if I were your twin.

Smartass John:
That’s marvelous.
Wait but one minute,
I must go and unsaddle Rozinante.
I left my poor mare
tied to the birch by the gate.

Smartass John released Rozinante
to go pluck oats.
Meanwhile, Crazy Jane,
fluffed up the straw filled mattress
and goose down pillows.

The Poet:
When Smartass John and Crazy Jane
both jumped into bed.
All hens in the chicken coop
and all the geese behind the fence
awakened and sang Halleluia.

“Gagaga-gā! Gagaga-gā! Honk! Honk!”.
Even some revelers,
who were believed to be sleeping,
awakened and marveled to see,
how the straw filled mattress
turned the straw into dust.

Chorus (left):
It’s is difficult to explain
how the sisters of Crazy Jane
Forgot to give praises
to Ra-Zhanna the Great.

For thousands of years the Balts,
herders of reindeer, wild pigs,
and gardeners of turnips,
had never before neglected
to await the Sun of Johns.

Crazy Jane, alone
kept the memory of Ra-Zhanna
her Grandmother alive.
For this reason,
while Smartass John slept,
she stood guard over him,
lest the Sun come strike him dead.

Chorus (right):
Smartass John had hardly
opened his eyes,
When Crazy Jane already
dragged him from the bed,
and when John resisted,
whispered into his ear:

Crazy Jane:
You surely must know, Smartass John,
how angry Ra-Zhanna my grandmother
will be to see
all the vimps and trauts snoring.
Hell itself will come
to collect pay.

Chorus (left):
Crazy Jane continued
to tell what was about to happen.
Smartass John’s eyes grew
ever wider and wider
as he heard such
universally familiar words:

“...heads will roll… blood will flow…”

Crazy Jane:
Listen, Smartass,
the only way you and your brothers
may escape certain death
is to dress your mare Rozinante
in by father’s,
God’s own Devil’s, boots,
and not forget
to take me with you.

Smartass John:
Darling Crazy Jane,
I will be more than happy
to sleep with you twice.

Crazy Jane was overjoyed.
Quickly, she found
additional presents
to present Smartass John with.

One such present
was a ring of gold.
The other was a silk handkerchief.
The third was two pair
of her father’s boots made
of the skin of a wild boar
that one spring had humped
a dozen sows in a row,
and still had not had enough.

Crazy Jane:
You must put the boots
on the hooves of Rozinante.
The mare will then fly
if we both sit on her back.

If you ever have any problems,
just put the ring into
the handkerchief
and start polishing it.
You will get a pleasant surprise.

The Poet:
Putting their arms about
each other’s waist,
Smartass John and Crazy Jane
then left Old Ra-Zhanna’s Inn
and went to climb Johns mountain.

To tell the truth,
Johns mountain was no more
than a mound of sunflowers
at the peak of which
in the courtyard of Ra-Zhanna’s Inn
sat the “Lesser Johns” pagan ansemble
and played leg-between-leg
waltzes all night long.


No comments:

Post a Comment