(no subject)
He comes in the lushness of midsummer, his music beating in both slave and lord like a second pulse. Miracles follow him on this day; there is a spring running sweet with wine below the twisted apple tree, and another spring issuing forth milk beside it, and beside that a spring of clean, sweet water. The taps in the Mansion all run red with wine.
Around him, people feel not compelled to dance, but desirous of dancing. Their work lies forgotten on the table or in the fields, and men and women join hands to dance wildly, gladly, freely with the joy of living. There is wine for all, giddiness and laughter for all. Lovers and would-be-lovers and strangers will forget why they are not lying together already and sharing their sweet selves.
He is Dionysos, Bacchus, Bromios, the god of grape and wine and madness. When you give in to your impulses and make merry, you do him worship, and the bounty of his hand is for you - the feasts and wine and affection of today are for you, and they are holy.
When you abjure the revelry, put men back to work, or deny the god, he is sad to say that people see wondrous things in the throes of ecstasy, and your loved ones may think you a dangerous beast - and tear you apart with their hands.
Will you drink?
Please welcome Dionysos, kidnapped from his last typist with permission. This version comes from Wole Soyinka's free adaptation The Bacchae of Euripides.
Around him, people feel not compelled to dance, but desirous of dancing. Their work lies forgotten on the table or in the fields, and men and women join hands to dance wildly, gladly, freely with the joy of living. There is wine for all, giddiness and laughter for all. Lovers and would-be-lovers and strangers will forget why they are not lying together already and sharing their sweet selves.
He is Dionysos, Bacchus, Bromios, the god of grape and wine and madness. When you give in to your impulses and make merry, you do him worship, and the bounty of his hand is for you - the feasts and wine and affection of today are for you, and they are holy.
When you abjure the revelry, put men back to work, or deny the god, he is sad to say that people see wondrous things in the throes of ecstasy, and your loved ones may think you a dangerous beast - and tear you apart with their hands.
Will you drink?
Please welcome Dionysos, kidnapped from his last typist with permission. This version comes from Wole Soyinka's free adaptation The Bacchae of Euripides.