Artifact #010, translated by H. Szabo and S. Singareddy. Dated circa A.S. 209. Original script by Aeschylus from ancient Greece, adapted for contemporary readers.
The Oresteia
an epic translated across time and space
re-printed in W. W. Norton, Edition IX, for educational uses
oresteia – opening fragments
eleusis, ancient greece, 458 b.c., Αἰσχύλος
WATCHMAN appears on the roof of the palace, lies down, and gazes out into the night.
I beg the gods to deliver me at last
From this hard watch I’ve kept now for a year
Upon the palace roof of the Atreidae,
Dog-like, snout to paws, night after long
Night, studying the congress of the stars,
The unignorable bright potentates
That bring down through the night sky to us here
Below, the summer now, and now the winter,
Eternal even as they wane and rise.
And here I am still watching for the sign,
The torch flame, flickering news from Troy,
The bright flare of her capture. These are my orders
Straight from a woman’s hope-stiffened heart that urges
like a man.
My bed is hard with restlessness
By night, and damp with dew by morning, and
Just fear (no dream or sleep) comes near it,
Fear that I’ll fall asleep, that my eyes will be drawn
Down into sleep, as if sleep were a sickness
I could cure by singing or humming, as I do,
From time to time some little tune or other,
And yet the more I sing, the more I have
To weep for all the troubles of this house
That excellence no longer orders now.
Come soon, deliverance from this weight of watching,
Come, fire out of black night flashing toward me,
Come, happy news I’m ever watching for.
He sees the beacon.
At last!
Day-shining flare of night, I welcome you,
Blazing torch that will kindle the torch-lit dance
We’ll dance in Argos for the sake of this!
At last! At last! …
oresteia in lux, I
location unknown, 129 a.s., Σινγαρεδι
oresteia in lux, II
location unknown, 429 a.s., ζαβο
WATCHMAN appears in the crow’s nest of a ship.
I plead the gods relieve me at last
Of this difficult watch I’ve now kept for a thousand sol
Upon the mast of the Atreidae,
Hawk-like, eyes to sky, turning after long
Turning, studying the caravan of the clouds,
The gentle, meandering beasts that cast
Past two titans between the light to us here
Below, tempering heat to bring us life under the storms’
Auspices, eternal as the two suns.
And here I stand still looking for the signal,
The red flag, delivering news from Troy,
The flying symbol of its capture. These are my orders
Straight from a woman’s hope-hardened heart that begs
like a man.
This perch is rough with restlessness
At the first turn, and doused in sweat by the second, and
Just fear (no dream or sleep) comes near it,
Fear that I’ll fall into a daze, that my eyes will be drawn
By light into that heavy oblivion, as if mindlessness were a malady
I could alter by trilling or toning, as I do,
Now and then some melody tune or other,
And yet the more I sing, the more I have
To grieve for all the sicknesses of this clan
Which is longer ruled by excellence.
Come soon, relief from this eternal vantage point,
Come, scarlet flag emerging from the waves,
Come, buoyant news of arrest. I’m ever present.
He sees the flag.
At last!
Bloodied piece emblazoned in endless space, I embrace you,
Ruby fabric that will string the colored dance
We’ll dance in Argos for this reason!
At last! At last!
WATCHMAN appears in the submarine window and gazes out.
How much longer will I wait
To end this never-ending trudge of a job
At the window of the Atreidae,
Eyes out into the pits of the oceans
Studying the echoes of motion,
This underwater world, the darkness a relief
From the burning and boiling sun overhead;
Below, shocking cold yields life below hostility,
Fragile as the cycles of days past.
I remain here waiting for a signal,
A red light from above, signaling Troy,
Revealing her capture. This is what I’ve been told
By a hard-hearted woman who behaves
like a man.
This stasis makes me restless.
I’m soaked with sweat as I wait for a sign, and
Fear that I’ll never be let up to see that horrid sun,
Fear that I’ll fall asleep forever, my eyes turning
Forever from light into heavy oblivion, into mindless insanity
Of which I could never wrest myself free
Through a distraction like the poem I receipt.
Yet the more I speak the more I think
Of the terrible sickness of the regime
I belong to — a corrupted clan.
I just want relief from this eternal watching.
This waiting among the waves can only cease
With a scarlet signal from above.
He sees the scarlet light.
At last!
Bright light shooting through endless waves, I reach for you.
I will ascend yet again, into a world of color,
A world of dance and motion.
At last! At last!
oresteia in nox, I
location unknown, 129 a.s., Σινγαρεδι
oresteia in nox, II
location unknown, 429 a.s., ζαβο
WATCHMAN appears on the roof of the palace, lies down, and gazes out into the night.
O, to ever be released at last
From this watch I’ve kept now
For an unmeasurable menagerie of moments,
Wolf-like, snout to paws, night bleeds into
Night; stars spin and swirl without cease,
Over a static backdrop of black velvet
Cycles of years past almost traceable,
Now an indiscernible chaos of motion;
No rhythm in the stars’ wane and rise.
And here I remain until an unreachable sign,
A pause to this unending halt;
The bright flare of Troy’s capture. These are my orders
Straight from a woman’s night-stiffened heart that urges
Like a man.
This perch lays shrouded in layers of black
Spindly motions under a guise of darkness, and
Fear — joy a forgotten memory — crawls unseen,
Fear that I’ll fall asleep, that my eyes will be drawn
Down into sleep, as if sleep were a sickness
I could cure by filling this immeasurable space with sound,
The emptiness with words of light appearing,
And yet the more I sing, the more I have
To weep for all this wretched house
That the natural cycles no longer order now.
Come soon, an egress from this eternal yearning,
Come, fire out of black night flashing toward me,
Come, old novelty I’m ever watching for.
He sees the beacon.
At last!
A miniature of hallowed day, I welcome you,
Blazing torch that will kindle the torch-lit dance
We’ll dance in Argos for the sake of this!
At last! At last!
WATCHMAN steps on the mansion’s roof, sits, and looks out into the endless night.
I beg, release me now
From this task that occupies night on night,
Where I stand here and look and look,
Like a wolf, snout to paws, night turns into
Night, the stars turn and always swirl,
Over a curtain and black threads
The path of years past almost visible
Now unfathomable chaos lost in motion;
No order in how the stars move through the sky.
And here I’ll stay ‘till a never arriving sign,
A pause to this never ending quiet;
The burning flame of Troy’s capture. These are my orders
Straight from a woman’s starcrossed heart that urges
Like a man.
My lookout lays disguised in darkness
Restless movement beneath a cover of shadows, and
Fear — joy’s existence forgotten — lurks in shadows,
Fear that I’ll fall asleep, that my eyes will be drawn
Down deathlike, as if sleep were a sickness
I could cure by entertaining myself with sound,
The emptiness turning into light,
And yet as I sing more, I weep more
As well for this family in shambles
That is no longer something natural.
Come soon, an answer to my wishes.
Come, brilliant blaze emerging from black velvet,
Come, the change I’m ever watching for.
He sees a distant flame.
At last!
Piece of heaven, I welcome you,
Dancing fire that will allow us in Argos
to dance as well for the sake of this occasion!
At last! At last!