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Electra
Take this pitcher from my head and put it down, so that I may cry aloud the night-time laments for my father. A wail, a song of death, of death, for you, father, under the earth, I speak the laments
140
in which I am always engaged, day by day, tearing my skin with my nails, and striking my cropped head with my hand, for your death.
145
Take this pitcher from my head and put it down, so that I may cry aloud the night-time laments for my father. A wail, a song of death, of death, for you, father, under the earth, I speak the laments
140
in which I am always engaged, day by day, tearing my skin with my nails, and striking my cropped head with my hand, for your death.
145
Electra. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1891.
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