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“Mother, it’s me! I am the child you bore in the house of Echion!

Pity me, mother,
do not murder your own child, whatever his mistakes!”
But she
was foaming at the mouth,
was rolling back her eyes,
was out of her mind.

Having reread Anne Carson’s translation of Sophokles’s masterpiece Antigonick, I searched my library and found her translation of Euripides’ Bakkhai and her An Orestia: including translations of Agamemnon by Aiskhylos; Electra by Sophokles; and, Orestes by Euripides. I should be well occupied for the next little while.

… the sound was mighty, the stag awakened visions of a great strength concealing both might and desperation, despair at being caught in the grip of a superhuman force, trapped in this call that was determined by sexual destiny …