back
Agamemnon, Clytaemestra to Agamemnon, 958-974
click on Greek text to hear it recited; scroll down for translation
There is a sea —and who will drain it dry?—
Breeding fresh purple in a staunchless ooze,
Worth any silver, to dip garments in.
Of such things we’ve no end, thank heaven, in
This house, for poverty it never learned.
Many's the garment I'd have vowed to trample,
If that were what the oracles required,
In order to contrive this one soul’s ransom.
For while there’s root, the house will have new leaf,
To pitch a shade against the dog days' heat.
So you now, coming to your household hearth,
Signal the warmth that comes in wintertime;
And when Zeus from the bitter grape makes wine,
Then straightaway a coolness fills the house,
As in its halls there walks the ripened man.
Zeus, Zeus the ripener, make ripe my prayers!
Take care of what you are about to ripen!
translation © 2003 Alan Shaw
back