Thursday, June 8, 2017

Poem 112: Sophokles, Oedipus Tyrannus, ll. 1-13, etc.

O CHILDREN
of old from the Kadmean line
what brings you even here

strewing the porches of the shrine
with laurel branches
wound with wool
and assuming the contorted postures
of supplication
?

The city's air is choked with incense
and heavy with groans
and the murmur of prayer: therefore
I must know
from you
what is up!

*
...such was, and is, a good thing
for a king to request
of his suffering people

even if the answer
will ruin his house
and cause him tear out his eyes
and send him forever
alone
to his shrivelly place



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