POEMS
AESCHYLUS
Eumenides' Chorus, from
The Oresteia
A man in his splendour
Is like the sun.
But when the blood from someone he has killed
Spills into his conscience
He sinks into the black clouds of our tatters.
Then the living blood that beats in the head
Is the drum of vengeance.
His own hand, darkened by blood,
Covers his eyes.
His brain whirls in darkness.
Voices of the dead
Deepen his voice as he groans.
Law is everlasting
And we are the everlasting
Enforcers of the law.
We are hated.
But the law cannot bend or renounce its course.
The other gods keep to the bright air.
They steer clear of the dark
And rocky track down which we drive the living and the dead.
We have declared who we are
And what our duties are,
Obedient to fate.
We are to be feared and revered
And though we sleep
In the blindest cavern of earth
In the blink of an eye we are with you.
Translated from the Greek
by
Ted Hughes
