morning - evening transcript

O Caesar, those who go to their deaths salute you.
Every man who tries on Caesar expects you to say so.
We're going to give it to everyone.
It's just that we were raised by real punks.
Mowgli, you were raised by wolves. We have no authority.
You've been drinking since this morning.
Right, instead of breakfast.
This is the entrance to the secret hideout.
I never drank in my life. My ally was mycology.
But there's little human about mushrooms. I wasn't human.
But now I have another ally.
You seek love.
O those who go to their deaths salute you!
You hear that clanking of metal weapons.
It's so human I like it.
But every Caesar fear the Ides of March.
Shakespeare invented it. I'm one of his troupe of artists.
And you got drunk this morning? I can't drive now.
I used to despise alcohol and call it an arrogant blue high.
But there's so much humanity in it.
Don't argue or talk about things you have no idea about.
Well, it's a humble manifesto for never lying.
Are you looking for love? Have you found it?
Those who walk to their deaths salute you!
Oh, but we were raised by punks,
You want to talk about authority?
Any Caesar,
we'll just watch from the crowd
as you die on ten knives.
Pointed from all sides of the world.
Ides of March and now May Shakespeare rewrite it.
You were drunk this morning.
Alcohol is my ally. I finally understand all human vulgarity.
Were you looking for love? It's hormones and toxins. I still have a connection to the mushroom.
Oh, those who go to their deaths?
You can't even imagine
how funny it is when your ally is a mushroom.
Where did they go? To their deaths? My God!
I don't know,
 but I got drunk this morning so I could understand people.
You cheated on an ally.
Ally is the wrong word.
I'm a woman with only lovers.
And yes, you cheated on yourself.
I like this one.
They won't know what I'm talking about.
That's because you're drunk this morning.
Not that.
I'm finally getting to the damn etymology.
You're objectifying again.
No, I just feel warm.
We were cold and lonely, we were smart and arrogant.
It's a different entity.
What do you mean alive? Who's alive?
He'll trick you and leave you.
How can I cheat and abandon myself?
Well, I'm not human enough
to look at it that way.
You're drunk in the morning.
It's not evening yet.
William, those who go to their deaths salute.
How did you not write this?
I didn't write that blues either
I'm just a good stenographer.
But I have a good ear for what's not said.
Is the sun of York here now?
Now, don't you go reciting nonsense out of place.
Caesars, are you waiting for a phrase?
But we're drunk and we've forgotten what it sounds like.
Well, our mushroom patch is the size of the entire planet.
and we despise humans until we get drunk in the morning.
Have you heard of the symbiosis between mushroom and algae?
Mushroom and alcohol?
This ally's passion has human warmth.
Well, you just didn't know what non-human meant.
That's why you're drunk before breakfast.
I didn't know what breakfast meant.
But it's an embrace you don't want to escape.
So what of the Caesars? Who cares?
Blues? Oh, no, I never claimed.
The sand wanted me to wrap my mother-of-pearl around it.
I'm made of mother-of-pearl, but I need it liquid.
 Collect the fingernails of all the dead at the bottom.
Why do you need that pearl at the bottom?
No one can dive deep enough to pick it up.
This boy is very old. He's two years older.
He's already seven years old. I lost a bet.
and now I have to show you this?
Oh, look!
Of course there's no hair.
Where have you ever seen hair growing in there?
Yes.
 Caesar, those who go to their deaths salute you!
Well, that's a good one.
And yes, I don't remember the play.
I only remember the icy cold of blades stabbing from all eight directions.
I had hoped one direction would at least avoid the blow.
I have known meanness and treachery quite well.
Well that is the task of any of the Caesars in the game.
I never want to understand Latin again - not a word of it.
It is the language of lies spoken by snakes.
The snake language Cleo knows well now.
She sends her love to you.
Good heavens! Cleo? Who the hell is that?
Oh prestidigitator is drunk as a skunk.
But just name the subject, the psychic is drunk as a skunk,
But the oracle never drinks him.
He's not human because and because of that
He's three times a man.
Shall we have some more booze, Oracle?
It's evening, it was morning. It's about time, apple cider vinegar.
Pardon me, of course your name is Apple Bourbon.
You're French, I mean, Vinegar Jack, you mean?
And from the royal lineage of bourbon?
But with apple compote?
Ooh!
Oh, okay.
But evening-morning. And here's where you and I lost the day?

Oh, a tweet from a psychologist:
“react to events the right way!”
You hear that, Vinegar, “right” he says.
Oh, screw you all, really.
Doctor, eat your own pill.
The Oracle has spoken!
Vinegar, let us pray,
our Oracle is actually the Oracle of Zeus.
What do you mean you didn't know?
What sacrifices did you send to Venus Trivia and Cupid?
What about those bow-wielding archers?
Who else did you send gifts to? Ouch! You Vinegar is really out of your mind.
And the fact that you got the pantheons of the gods all mixed up.
Not Zeus?  Not even once?
Well, Vinegar, I guess we'll have to
It makes sense to wait for the storm.
Oracle, tell me, will Zeus forgive that stupid gift-giving intendant?
He ate all the dates on the way.
When when?  When you were sitting in the riverbeds.
No, the Han Empire didn't exist then. There were only reeds along the rivers.
And Zeus wasn't around then. Doesn't excuse me.
I know about eating dates. That's enough.
Now you've lost the argument. 
You know exactly what we were arguing about.

What whistling? I can't hear anything. I guess the Oracle must have forgotten that word.
Quiet, I haven't even breathed in five hours.
Gills don't count.
Vinegar, what gills!?

Congratulations, we've been caught in an energy wave that's washing away everything in its path.
Those who were at the top of it are all at the bottom now.
It's passed over us.
Why are you so happy? We're drowning in alcohol now.
And the thickness above us is exactly the same as the total depth of the bottle.
Calculate the proportion of the profit, Pythagoras.
Here it is: all is well with the living.
Demagoguery.
If I had the strength,
there wouldn't be a shadow of that saying in three minutes.
But I'm tired.
“Caesar, those who go to their deaths salute you.”
This is bullshit.
Vinegar, back to the mushroom room, it's a lot of fuss.
Is that surfacing or submerging?
You tell me. What?
We lost our float, our shores and our landmarks?
Good for you.
______________________
Don't get all indignant and indignant about the nudity and the fake singing,
Because you do it by peeking through the shower door.
Madam, there's no need to be jealous and hissy,
You'd just have to stop eating your buns.
As I was writing this, the world was changing.
The space body Earth doesn't always fly straight.
A slip of a needle can change the whole course of things on its surface.
Madam, stop peeking into my head and you may see things that shock you.
And even go mad with indignation and indignation.
Oh, and besides, it's all a lie.
By the definition of high poetry.
No, it's high.
Can you possibly be capable of saying one true word?
And if so, you're a liar.
Apple Cider Vinegar, we part and never see each other again.
I don't love you.
___________________
my way of replenishing my strength has a very strange look to it.
Yeah. Vinegar, we're back to full strength and we had a good time together. We had a good time and we had a good time. But you're taking someone else's name. You're not bourbon. Don't swear I like green apples. But you see what we wrote? Yeah, if we're accused of insanity, we'll put you in the mouths of the accusers. Say you're apple-flavored truth serum. No, I won't listen to them after that. I'm the one with nothing to hide. It's taken years of tedious practice. They've been hoarding skeletons in the closet all their lives and they're going to dump them all. The ones they've been saving for the final judgment. Look under the garage floor, it's full of secrets. I don't want to know anything about their souls. We'll drink them senseless so they can't say a word.
Let's re-label you “truth serum” and sell it! We'll be rich! You. I'm sorry. Who's the con man?

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)