Note from the Translator: “The Jinxes” is considered Artenitichus’ most misunderstood play, especially due to the continuous change of character intentions and the complete deconstruction of the traditional structure expected in choral pieces. Many scholars speculate that this avoidance of strophes and antistrophes comes from the author’s need to differentiate himself from other playwrights, who seemed married to structures with hundreds of years of history. Or maybe it was for the heck of it, who knows.
Setting: Temple for Hermes of Arcadia.
Enter Phorous, oracle of Hermes, from stage left. The actor playing Hermes stands at center stage, as if a statue. The chorus of young children enter the orchestra slowly, trying to avoid stepping on each others feet.
Phorous:
The gods, yet another force of which/to fear, enter our thoughts to see/what it means to be flesh made from/earth. Still we do not fight./I stand here, the puppet of Hermes,/yet doubt runs through my mind/that I have nothing left to myself./I look at him for help and guidance./I wish to fight, I wish for it all to change.
Chorus:
The run of time is what we see/never done through you and me,/but the reality of it is the creed/held within the unity.
Phorous:
Silence youth, the lesson is not/done. I stand before you as a/teacher of great thoughts but/they are not mine or ours. We/shall one day take back the/human mind, by lessening/the grasp of the divine.
Hermes:
Seer, tripping on your own/feet. The children don’t even/believe your revolution. They/hold strong my will and those/of Olympus. Our bodies are/made of prayers.
Chorus:
But if we stop, but if we cry/the rope comes loose into/strands.
Phorous:
How could you say such things?/Children that have yet to stop/sucking their fingers out of/enjoyment cannot philosophize,/a vote taken with the rest/of the cosmos.
Hermes:
Leader not listening to/his followers, yet another/crime of society. Olympus/dreams of another universe,/another mistress for Zeus/to take to bed.
Chorus:
Here it is, the end./If you have another/take your suitcase there/and never call again./We as children of the/Earth no longer want/your hands, your thoughts.
Phorous:
What are we but cows/on a hill? Wishing to/take the farmer to market.
Chorus:
Teacher, the lesson is/before us and still you/dream. Strike with your/hand the god that has/laid claim to your life.
Phorous:
Yet was is a strike/but the force of a/hand upon the waves/that never end from/another place.
Hermes:
He shall never listen, children./You must end me yourselves.
Chorus:
And here it is, the last call/for rage. The end of these/plays with more than applause.
Hermes:
Where is my hand? Where/is my lyre? The music will/never stop ringing.
Phorous:
I cannot see. Where is my sight?
Chorus:
And there we go/into the darkness.
