CHORUS OF MYCENAEAN WOMEN


FIRST CHORISTER

She says nothing now but used to speak,
as the leaves of trees do or the birds on their branches,
with no one paying attention.


SECOND CHORISTER

Those to whom she spoke were not deaf
but were deaf to the truth, which was ominous for them
and painful for her. Now she sits on a rock,
silent as the rock, and we suppose
with a heart as hard.


THIRD CHORISTER

She warned her father in Troy and what she told him
heartbreakingly happened, again and again.
Has she lost the gift of foresight,
or is there no one here in Aigisthus' palace
she wants to warn?


FIRST CHORISTER

A captive, a slave, she hates Mycenae
as much as she loved Troy.
May we suppose that she can still predict
what is about to happen, but now she enjoys it,
delights in anticipating what will befall?


SECOND CHORISTER

If this is a part of Apollo's curse
it would be a peculiar reward,
for to tell the truth and not be believed
must have been painful, but now it is sweet
to know and yet choose to say nothing.


THIRD CHORISTER

She sits on a rock in the afternoon sunshine
motionless with her eyes closed.
Her lips are perhaps half-smiling.
Only she knows what she waits for.