THE PERSIANS
Adapted by Heiner Müller from a translation by Peter Witzmann English translation by Thomas Freeland
Chorus Messenger Atossa Shade Of Darius Xerxes
Scene: the Persian Royal Palace at Susa
Chorus: The Persians, gone Into the land of Hellas, named us trusted And of their richly furnished and gold-laden Estates guardians, in accord with our age By Lord Xerxes himself, the King Descended of Darius, chosen to watch Over the land. About the return of the King And of the gold-laden army With a fatal premonition The mind too much torments itself. For the total might Of our Asian-born strength Is gone forth. After the young Manhood he calls And neither messenger nor rider Comes to the city of the Persians. And they have left Susa and Agbatana And the ancient precincts of Kission Have they left Some on horseback, others On ships, on foot also on the march The warriors forming columns, Such as Amistres and also Artaphrenes And Megabates and Astapes,
© 2009 Heiner Müller PAJ 92 (2009), pp. 85–110. 85
Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Marshals of the Persian Kings, the great King’s servants They hasten forth, overseers of great armies Mighty with bow and on their horses Terrible to behold, dreadful in battle In the enduring renown of their soul. And Artembares, a valiant horseman And Masistres And the mighty archer, noble Imaios And Pharandakes And the horse-driver Sosthames. Others too has the great and many-feeding Nile sent: Susiskanes Pegaston, Egypt-born And the one who rules over the holy place, Memphis The great Arsames, and he who governs Ancient Thebes, Ariomardos And the swamp-dwelling oarsmen of ships Forceful and hordes innumerable And the soft-living Lydian throngs Follow, as far as they encompass the mainland-dwelling People, whom Metrogathes And Arkteus led forth, the noble one, Kings, commanders With two- and three-shafted harness A terrible sight to see. And the gold-wealthy Sardes, moving On many wagons. The inhabitants of holy Tmolos stand ready To throw the yoke of slavery upon Hellas Mardon, Tharybdis, tireless in spear-combat. And the spear-throwing Mysians. And Babylon Rich in gold, a motley column She sends as a flock, moving by ship And trusting in bow-tensing Courage. The sword-bearing people of all Asia follow Among the masterful armies of the King. Such a flower of the land of Persia Follows the men. All around the entire Asian earth Nourished them and with a consuming Longing sighs after them. Parents and wives, counting the days Nurse their fears on the dragging time.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 First Choral Strophe: The Persians have got there already, The King’s army Has crossed to the neighboring land On rafts bound together Crossing the Hellespont, the many-nailed way Thrown like a yoke over the neck of the sea. The heedless master of teeming Asia Drives his divine hordes of men Over all the land from the two sides, trusting In his stern commanders by sea and by land, Of a golden race a godlike man. Second Choral Strophe: Darkly with his eyes darting A murderous dragon’s glance Many-handed and with many ships Driving the Syrian chariots He leads on against the spear-famed Men and Ares, mighty with his bow. No one is proven so steadfast To withstand such a flood of men With firm control to check The irresistible swell of the sea. For the Persian army is invincible And its people warlike at heart. Third Choral Strophe: Cunning deception of God— What mortal man can escape it? With quick foot in light spring? Waving in friendship at first He leads the mortal into blindness Out of which no mortal can escape or flee. For, ordained by God, Fate Ruled from time immemorial, decreed to the Persians Wars, tower-destroying And clashes of charioteers And cities’ destruction. They learned to endure the broad-pathed sea Gray-foaming by violent gusts, the salty tide, Trusting to their slenderly made Cables and constructs, Ferrying over their people. Fourth Choral Strophe: My black-robed heart Rends itself in fear over this Oa That of the Persian army The city should hear this The great city Susa emptied of men And the city of the Kissians
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Will resound, echoing Oa Crying this word the woman-packed throng tear Their fine linen robes. For the men Driving horses, massed afoot A swarm of Bees have left with the leader of the army crossing Where, connected from both sides The sea-shore is now part of both lands. With the men’s departure, the beds fill themselves With tears, the Persian women, each softly lamenting And longing with love for her man The warrior, the wild man, the bedmate Sent forth She stays behind alone. You, Persians, coming Into the house, ancient and worthy Let us sit and take thought Careful and deep counsel, for It must be known how it fares with Xerxes, the King Descended from Darius Whether the might of the bow has the victory Or the power of the spear-headed lance has conquered. But she, like the eyes of the gods A light moving itself the mother of the King My Queen, I Cast myself down And with words of greeting All address you. O Lady of the deep-girdled Persian women, highest Mother of Xerxes, white-haired, hear our greeting, wife of Darius Bedmate of the Persians’ God, mother also of a god If the ancient spirit of fortune has not forsaken the army. Atossa: Here have I come, leaving The gilded house, Darius’s and my Shared bed-chamber. And worry Tears my heart. To you I speak The word, never fearing for myself, friends. Rather that the great army, scattering dust upon the earth, May upset with its foot The riches, amassed by Darius, not without one of the gods. Unspeakable, twofold, the dread That in the men’s absence their mass of wealth should not be honored Nor does the light Shine on the dispossessed, however great their power.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Irreproachable is wealth, but for the eye there is fear. But the eye of the house is, I believe, the presence of the house’s lord. Since this is so, counselors You should be to me, Persians, faithful of old. Chorus: Know that you, Queen of this land, need not Speak twice the word or the deed That lies within our power. For well-disposed Are we to be your advisors. Atossa: With many nightly dreams Have I been visited, since my son took the army Off to the Ionian land to despoil it. But never so clearly did I see it As the night before. I will tell it to you. Two women appeared to me, beautifully dressed One overdressed in Persian finery But the other in Doric, tread before my face Greater in size than people today Both flawless in beauty And sisters of the same race, as fatherland One dwelt in Hellas By allotment, the other In the land of the Barbarians. The two had a quarrel, as it appeared to me, With one another. My son, hearing of it Drew them back, and calmed them, before his chariot He harnessed them, and laid the yoke upon their necks, And the one drew herself up powerfully In the reins with an obedient mouth But the other reared up and with her hands Shredded the chariot’s harness and tore it off violently Without bridle, and she smashed the yoke. This felled my son, and his father went to him Darius, bewailing him. Seeing this, he, Xerxes, rent his robe about his body. And even that did I see of a night, I say. As I got up and with my hands bestirred The sweet-flowing spring, with sacrifice in hand I went to the altar, to appease The calamity-averting gods I saw an eagle fly to the hearth Of Phoebus. Speechless with fear I stood, friends. Behind it, though, I saw a hawk in flight Rush upon it with beating wings And with its talons slash its head. But the eagle could do nothing but cower and submit its body. Such an image of horror, for me to see
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 For you to hear. For know well, my son If it fares well with him, will be a man much admired If it goes ill with him he need make no account of himself to the city If rescued he will nonetheless be ruler of the land. Chorus: We have no wish, Mother, to frighten you overmuch with our words, Nor to encourage you. Approach the gods with propitiations If you have seen something evil, pray that they will avert these things But effect utterly the good For you and your children The city and all your friends. Second, it is necessary To pour libations upon the earth and the departed. Gently pray that your husband Darius, whom you say you saw in the night, Send you and your child good fortune out of the earth into the light And hold back its opposite, concealed in the earth’s darkness. This, as one who sees prophetically, I counsel you in friendship. We judge that in every respect All will come out Well for you. Atossa: Well-disposed to my son and my house Have you, the first hearer of this dream-tale, determined it. May the good come fully to pass, but for the other matters, as you desire We shall leave it to the gods and the dear ones in the earth As soon as we have gone into the house. I would, though, learn Friends, where upon the earth Athens was erected. Chorus: Far away, where the sun goes down. Atossa: And it is certain my son would make this city his prey? Chorus: For then all Hellas would be subject to the King. Atossa: How well provided with men is their army? Chorus: Such an army as has already brought much ruin upon the Medians. Atossa: Have they men of war, drawing arrows with their hands? Chorus: Not at all. Spears for pitched battle and shield-bearing armaments. Atossa: And what other riches that fill the houses? Chorus: Some share of silver’s spring is theirs, treasure of their land. Atossa: Who protects them, the men, and is lord of their host? Chorus: The slaves of no man they boast themselves, and subject to none. Atossa: How then do they withstand men who come as enemies? Chorus: Well enough to have annihilated the great and splendid army of Darius. Atossa: Terrible things you say, to frighten the parents of those who have gone. Chorus: Soon, I think, you will have the full and accurate word: For by this man’s running, see there, I recognize him as a Persian And he will speak clearly of deeds good or ill. Messenger: O of this country, all cities of Asia O Persian land, harbor of great wealth Such riches destroyed in a single blow, The flower of the Persians gone, fallen. Woe, ill it is to report such ill
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 But it is necessary to reveal the full sorrow. Persians: the entire army Of the Barbarians Was lost. Chorus: Pain, pain evil fresh And devastating, aiai, weep Persians, hearing this sorrow. Messenger: All of that has come to pass And I, not having hoped, I see the light of homecoming. Chorus: How long-lived this Time seemed to the old To hear this hopeless sorrow. Messenger: Having been there, and hearing not the words of others Persians, I will tell how this evil came to us. Chorus: Otototoi, in vain The many missiles mixed, compounded From the land of Asia bent upon The enemy land Hellas. Messenger: Full of the dead, the unhappy annihilated Are the shores of Salamis and all the space around. Chorus: Otototoi, our friends’ Drifting bodies, tossed in the waves Dead you say, to be carried away As flotsam, drowned twice? Messenger: The bows were of no use, all the host Perished, defeated By the ramming of ships’ prows. Chorus: Cry a desperate wail Dismally for the Persians Miserable ones, for whom only evil Has been ordained, aiai, the army destroyed. Messenger: O great hatefulness, to hear the name of Salamis Woe, how I groan when I remember Athens The City. Chorus: Hated is Athens Of the enemy. How many Persian women, young For nothing now Did it leave without husbands. Atossa: I have long been silent, miserable, horrified By this evil, for it surpasses, This fate, this grief, not to speak, that one cannot question. Nonetheless It is necessary that men Endure such sorrows from the gods. Unveiling all this grief now, Speak, even as you bemoan this evil. Who is not dead, and whom must we lament Among the leaders of the people, who, given their charge
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 By the scepter, have In dying left Their companies Unmanned? Messenger: Xerxes himself lives and beholds the light. Atossa: A great light for my house you speak of And a bright day out of a stormy- Dark night. Messenger: Artembares, commander of countless horse Is pounded upon the rugged shore of Silenias And the leader of thousands, Dadakes, at the thrust of a spear Fell by a light leap from his ship And Tenagon, born the best of the Bactrians, Circles about the sea-battered isle of Ajax Lilaios, Arsames and as a third Argestes About the island where doves nest Beat against the hard ground in defeat. Of the Egyptians, living as neighbors to the Nile’s springs Arkteus, Adeues and for a third Pheresseues As well as Pharnuchos, all fell from one ship. The Chrysian Matallos, commander Of many thousands, is dead His fire-red beard, full of shadows He moistened, changing his skin with purple hue. And Magos the Arabian, Artames the Bactrian Immigrant to a rugged land, there They went down. Amistris and Amphistreus, wielding The pain-making spear And the noble Ariomardes, bringing Grief to Sardis, Seisames the Mysian Tarybis, commander Of five times fifty ships, born in Lyrna, a handsomely-formed man Dead he lies, wretched, an ill fortune. Syennesis, first in valor Lord of the Cilicians, but one man and bringing Much grief to the enemy, gloriously Met his end. So much Of the leaders have I made report But a small part of a great evil I relate. Atossa: Aiai, of the ills the highest I hear the Disgrace of the Persians and shrill cries of lament But tell me, returning to your tale How great was the number of Greek ships That they would dare join in battle With the Persian army by ramming with their ships?
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Messenger: In an account of sheer numbers, know this well, the Barbarian army Would have had the victory with their ships, for the Greeks had All told but thirty times ten Ships, and ten more set aside. For Xerxes, this I know as well, there were a thousand That he led, all together, and of surpassing speed Twice a hundred plus seven there were, thus stands the reckoning. Does it seem to you that for this battle We were the weaker? But a spirit of ill fortune Annihilated the host Weighing down the scales with an unequal fate. The gods succor the city of the Goddess Pallas. Atossa: Is Athens then, the city, not yet laid waste? Messenger: As long as there are men, its defenses are secure. Atossa: The onset of the ships’ collision, how was it. Speak. Who began the battle, the Greeks Or my son, proud of his mass of ships? Messenger: It began, O Lady, all this evil With the appearance of a vengeful spirit or demon of ill fortune. For a man, a Greek, from the Athenian host Came and said to your son Xerxes the following: When the night’s darkness comes The Greeks will not stay, but rather springing to the decks Of the ships and leaving in different directions Will steal away to save their lives. But he, even as he heard this, not understanding the cunning Of the Greeks nor the envy of the gods Expressly gave this order to his admirals: As soon as the sun, burning with his rays, departs the earth And darkness covers the region of the air The column of ships should be arranged in three rows To guard the routes outward and the sea-roaring passages Others in a circle around the isle of Ajax. And if they escape this deadly lot, the Greeks, this evil fate Finding with their ships in secret a way out All would lose their heads, that was ordained. This he said, powerful, with high heart. For he Did not know what the gods had in store. Not in disorder, then, but obediently The men took their meal and bound their ships’ Oar-handles firmly to their pegs. As the light of the sun waned And the night drew on, each man, the master of an oar Went aboard his ship, and each leader of arms. Row called to row upon the ship, the great one They sailed, each as he was assigned
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 And traveling through the entire night The ships’ masters ordered the naval host. And the night went by, and the Greek army Undertook no secret escape. As white-horsed day clearly Embraced the whole earth, with light for all to see A clamor first resounded from the Greeks Like singing, melodious, and at once Answered the island rocks’ Echo. But fear attended all the Barbarians Deceived in their expectation, for not like a call to flight Did the Greeks voice this paean, this hymn But rather breaking out in battle with boldness. And a trumpet there outshone all that. At once, with the rushing stroke of an oar They struck the sea-water deeps by command And suddenly they all were clearly to be seen. The right wing, well-ordered Went out first in a row, and second the entire Fleet advanced against us, and at the same time we could hear A loud call: sons of the Greeks, onward, Liberate the fatherland, free your Children, wives, the seats of your ancestral gods The graves of your forefathers, the struggle is now for them all. Of course on our side a cry in the Persian tongue Went up against it, and there was no more time to hesitate. With that, ship struck ship with its Iron ram, it began with the attack of a Greek Ship and broke from a Phoenician ship its entire Ornamented stern, and one ship aimed its ram against another. At first the stream of the Persian host held up Against this, but the mass of their ships was Crowded together in the straits, unable to aid one another. They were themselves struck by their own bronze rams Shattering all their oars But the Greek ships, not without careful planning Moved in a circle, there capsized The hulls of the ships, the sea Could no longer be seen with ship- Wreckage filling it and the slaughter of men. The shores and stony reefs were filled with the dead In disordered flight each ship Rowed, all that there were in the Barbarian fleet. But they still beat upon us, as though We were tuna, or a mess of fish With blows and wounds from the pounding of wreckage,
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Breaking us, and at the same time a howling Filled all the sea’s salt flood with cries of woe Until the eye of black night removed it. The full extent of this grief I could not convey to you Even if I took ten days to tell it Line by line. For know this well, never on one single day Has such a throng, one so numerous, of men met their deaths. Atossa: Aiai, a sea of evils has swept over The Persians and the entire race of Barbarians. Messenger: Be sure: this is not yet the half of it. Such a measure of griefs came after them As to overbalance this twofold in weight. Atossa: But what could be more hateful than this? Speak, what further measure of evil Came upon the army, yet greater, of such weight? Messenger: Those of the Persians with their strength in full flower Their spirits most noble and of distinguished birth And ever among the first in loyalty to their Lord Have died shamefully and in most Lamentable death. Atossa: O I am wretched, how I suffer with this terrible news, friends. What is the manner of death by which you say these men died? Messenger: There is an island before Salamis Small, havenless for ships, where the dance-loving Pan treads the shore. There he sent them, Xerxes, that if any Enemies from the foundering ships should seek refuge on the island They might kill with a light hand the Hellenes’ army And rescue their friends from the waves. It is awful to say what was to happen, for as the God Gave the glory of the naval battle to the Hellenes That same day arming themselves with weapons of good bronze They sprung from the ships and Closed in all around the island, so that it was impossible To turn away from them. Many were struck down By stones, and the arrow Loosed from the bow-string annihilated them. Finally marshaling in one onslaught They struck, butchering the ill-starred limbs Until they had utterly destroyed every life. Xerxes cried aloud seeing the depth of this evil For as his royal seat, affording him a broad View of the entire host he had taken A high-rearing rock beside the salty flood. Tearing his garments and wailing a shrill cry
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 At once giving orders to the infantry He stormed away in disordered flight. Such a Grief you must lament in addition to the others above. Atossa: O hated demon of ill fortune, how you have deceived the minds Of the Persians. Bitter vengeance has my son Found from glorious Athens And not enough were Those Barbarians destroyed Before at Marathon. Wanting to exact requital for that My son has brought forth Such a great throng of sorrows. But you, tell us, those of the ships that escaped death Where did you leave them? Have you the knowledge to say exactly? Messenger: The ships’ commanders, those remaining, Took to the winds, and did not maintain A well-ordered retreat. The army, what is left, in the land of the Boeotians Perished, some for springs’ flowing Suffering thirst, others exhausted for want of breath. We made it through to the land of the Phocians And the Dorians’ country, to the Malian gulf, where The Spercheios waters the plain with its benevolent moisture And from there the plains of the Achaean land And the cities of Thessaly received us Hollowed out with hunger. A great many died there From thirst and hunger, for both were there. Into the Magnesian country and the land Of the Macedonians we came, to the fords of Axios To Bolbe’s marshy reeds, to Mount Pangaios To the land of Edoni. In the night a God raised up A winter storm out of season, making solid the whole Flood of the violent Strymon. Who Ever did not believe in the gods, pleaded there With prayers, humbly calling on heaven and earth. As the army gave up calling on The gods, it pressed on across the crystal-hard fords. And whoever among us set off before the God’s Rays had spread out, he lives rescued. For burning with rays the shining Circle of the sun parted amid the ford Warming with heat. They fell over one another, good fortune had he Who broke off the breath of life quickly. Those surviving, and who managed to be rescued Barely making it through Thrace, with much trouble
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Escaping, came, not many of us To the land of our hearths. The city of the Persians Must sigh, that has longed after the dearest youth of the land. This all is true. Much do I leave out, when I report What evils a God has hurled upon the Persians. Chorus: O demon full of grievous suffering, with what terrible weight Did you land with your feet upon the whole Persian race. Atossa: O I am miserable, for the Persian army is destroyed O vision of the night, appearing plainly in dreams How terribly clearly did you show me this grief. But you all judged it so very badly. Even so, since it was ordained here By you, I first shall entreat the gods Then for the earth and the departed ones gifts Will I come bearing, as offerings, out of my house. I know I do this for what is past and done But for the future, whether it may not become better. You must, though, upon such occurrences Bring faithful counsels to those who are faithful. And my son, if he comes here to me Speak to him well and lead him into the house That something more, a grief, might not be added to all the ills. Chorus: O Zeus, King, you have destroyed The proud and great-numbered Persian army The city of Susa and Agbatana You have draped with dark-arrayed mourning. Many with weak hands tear their raiment Wailing, with drenching tears moistening The swell of their gowns in their pain The mothers, the gently Lamenting Persian women, full of longing for the men they only just Had wedded In the marriage bed with soft covers For the joys of luxurious youth They mourn with laments, insatiable. And I lament the death of the departed Fittingly, with great grief. But now groans All the Asian earth, emptied out. Xerxes led them, alas. Xerxes annihilated them, alas Xerxes executed everything in ignorance With seafaring ships Why was Darius
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Then without harm The lord of archers, to the inhabitants Of Susa a beloved leader? Those on foot and those at sea The sail-winged, dark-hued Ships led away, alas The ships annihilated them, alas The ships with most deadly blows And with their hands. The Lord barely escaped Himself, as we hear Thrace’s plains and Ill-storming paths. But those first to die, ah woe Necessarily, woe Upon the coasts of Cychreia, woe They drift, groan and gnash Your teeth, cry aloud Your grief up to heaven, woe Stretch out your ill-bewailing Howling miserable voice. Torn by the sea horribly, alas They were mangled by the voiceless—alas— Children of the unstained sea, woe The house laments the man, robbed Are the parents, childless God-sent grief, alas Wailing elders Hear the full pain But those upon the earth, Asia, hence No more will be protected by Persia No more will they bring tribute By masterful compulsion And no longer falling to the ground Will they be ruled, the King’s reign Has perished, the mighty. And no more will the tongues of men Be guarded, for loosed are The people, free to chatter For the yoke of power has been removed. Having soaked with blood the fields Of Ajax’s famous Isle no longer Do the Persians hold it. Atossa: Friends, he who is experienced in troubles Understands that, when a flood of ills
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Comes upon a man, he loves to fear everything But when the spirit of fortune flows well, he is convinced That the same wind will ever direct his fortunes. As for me, everything has long been full of dread In my eyes appears the gods’ opposition It howls its scream in my ears, not jubilant So the horror of these evils terrifies my senses Therefore have I come here without bearers and Splendor as before, once more from my house Bringing to him, my son’s father, friendly libations, Dear to the dead From the cow, the holy one, white, wholesome milk From the blossom-eater in flight the drops Of bright honey, and with waters From the virginal spring, unmingled From its wild mother the drink Of the ancient vine-stock, the drink And from the ever-blossoming leaves Living, the fruit of the blond olive-tree, wholesome and fragrant And flowers, woven, children Of the all-bearing earth. Now, friends, to such libations to the underworld Add your songs, and summon up The spirit of Darius, and I will send These honors for the earth to drink To the gods of the underworld. Chorus: Royal Lady, honored by the Persians You send the libations down into the chambers of the earth While we with songs will charge That the escorts of our dead Be friendly beneath the earth. You, subterranean gods, blessed Gaia and Hermes, and you, King of the Shades Send upward the soul to the light For if there be any further means to counter these evils He, perhaps more than any other among the dead May know their limit. Does he now hear, the Fortune-blessed King, like to a god, my speech, Ringing with Barbaric sounds, Manifold, dark and sadness-bringing? Utterly wretched sorrow will I cry out. Does he hear me, down there below? And you, Gaia, and the Others, the under- Worldly leader
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Of the spirits, allow the shining one to leave your house The Susa-born god of the Persians Send him up here, whose like The Persian land has never Covered in a grave. Dear is this man, dear his grave- Mound, for this residence shelters a beloved. Aidoneus, as guide Send upward, Aidoneus The peerless Lord Darius. Ai. For he never destroyed our men Through blindness and ruinous war. A godly counselor was he called By the Persians, and a godly counselor He was, leading the army well On firm land, ai. King, ancient worthy King, go, climb, come Here up to the high dome of the grave-mound Lifting up your foot’s saffron-colored shoe, Letting appear the arch Of your royal tiara. Step up here, father, free of evil, Darius, oi That you might hear of new woes. Ruler of rulers, show yourself For a stygian cloud has gathered here For all the young manhood has Perished, step up Father, untouched by evil, Darius, oi. Aiai, aiai O much-bewept by friends, dead. Why These mistakes toppling power, these mistakes Toppling power. Twofold so over your entire earth Vanished are the three-oared Ships, ships no more. Shade of Darius: O faithful of the faithful and contemporaries of my youth, Persians, white-haired, what grief grieves the city? She moans, is beaten, and furrows the ground. Seeing my wife at my grave I am frightened, but take up the libations In friendship. You, though, lament standing near my grave And with soul-leading laments crying loud Howling you call me. But the path up here is not a good one. And the gods beneath the earth are different More inclined to take than to release. Nonetheless, ruling among them, I come. Make haste, that I not be censured for this time.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 What unbearable oppressive Evil has befallen the Persians? Chorus: I shrink from seeing with my eyes I shrink from addressing in speech Out of the old dread of you. Shade of Darius: But I have come from beneath, persuaded by your laments Not in any long speech, but rather cut back Speak and have done, sending away your fear of me. Chorus: I am afraid to comply I am afraid to respond Saying what it is hard for friends to say. Shade of Darius: Because accustomed fear has overcome you My bed’s old companion, high-born wife Leaving these laments and this howling, say something Clearly to me. Human sorrows after all Are allotted to mortals. From the sea and from land much evil There is to be heaped upon mortals Who would stretch their lives out longer. Atossa: You, surpassing all mortals by fortune Because as long as you beheld the light of the sun you were enviable Your life happily, to the Persians a god, you led But now do I envy you, dead, before you saw The depths of evil. For all of it, Darius, you shall hear now: Through and through annihilated is the might of the Persians, to say itina word. Shade of Darius: In what way? Did a storm of plague or a revolt come upon the city? Atossa: Not at all. But at Athens it all did perish, the army. Shade of Darius: Which of my sons led the campaign there? Speak. Atossa: Impetuous Xerxes, emptying all the expanse of the land. Shade of Darius: Did he undertake this by foot or by ship, the wretch? Atossa: Both. A twofold face the armies had. Shade of Darius: How did the army, one so great, make the crossing on foot? Atossa: By artifice he bound the strait of Helle, so that there was a ford. Shade of Darius: And he completed this, so that he closed the Bosporus, the great one? Atossa: So it occurred. The notion must have been conceived by one ofthe demons. Shade of Darius: Alas, some great spirit came, so that he could no longer think with order. Atossa: So that the end can be seen, a great evil. Shade of Darius: And what did they suffer, those over whom you keen? Atossa: One army perishing at sea destroyed the army on foot. Shade of Darius: So is all the manhood destroyed by the spear? Atossa: So that the whole city of Susa laments its emptiness of men.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Shade of Darius: O popoi, the help and support of the faithful army! Atossa: The Bactrian fell, his people utterly destroyed, none escaped. Shade of Darius: O miserable wretch, what a flower of our allies did he destroy! Atossa: Alone, they say, not with many men, has Xerxes. . . Shade of Darius: How and where did he end? Is there any rescue? Atossa: . . . Happily treading the bridge, binding the two lands. Shade of Darius: And upon firm ground saving himself, on this here, is that true? Atossa: Yes. This word clearly wins out, and there is no doubt of it. Shade of Darius: Alas, the oracles quickly came true, upon my son Zeus Has hurled the results of the gods’ prophecies, I somehow Wished that only after a long time would the gods complete this. But when one goes too fast, upon him will the God affix it. The font of evils has he found for all our friends My son, not reckoning with that, in youthful arrogance. Who hoped to contain the Hellespont, the mighty, like a slave With fetters, the flowing Bosporus, the stream of the God, and with fetters, beaten of bronze Changing the crossing To another rhythm for a great host a great road Mortal he believed—not counseled well—over all the gods He could have power and over Poseidon. How has not some disease of the mind Gripped my son? I am now afraid that the wealth That cost me so much labor will be booty for whoever comes first. Atossa: This he learned making friends of wicked men Xerxes, impetuous. They said: for your son’s great wealth You amassed by fighting. That he, though, unmanfully Would fight only within the house and not increase the blessing fromhis father. From evil men oft hearing this reproach He decided upon this course and campaign against Hellas. Shade of Darius: By them the work is now completed The greatest standing in memory. As never before Emptied out is this fallen city Susa Since the Lord Zeus has bestowed this honor upon it, that one man Over all of sheep-rearing Asia should command, holding The scepter as a crook. For Medos was the first leader of the army And another son of his accomplished the task For his good sense steered, controlling his arrogance. As a third after him Cyrus, a fortunate man Ruling he made peace for all his friends. The people of Lydia and those of Phrygia he acquired All Ionia he met with force. For a God was not ill-disposed, so wise was he.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Cyrus’s son as the fourth one led the army As the fifth ruled Mardos, a disgrace to the fatherland And to the ancient throne. He with cunning Artaphrenes killed, noble in the house With men he had befriended, for whom it was necessary. And I attained the lot that I had wanted And went to war with a great army But no such evil did I cast upon the city. Xerxes my son as the new man thinks only of the new And does not think upon my messages. Know this but clearly, companions of my age We all who have held this rule We would not on that day have brought down such sorrows. Chorus: How then, Lord Darius, to what end are your words directed? What do you say That the Persian people, that we, should do? Shade of Darius: That you not advance with war into the land of the Hellenes Not even if the army is greater than the Median itself For their land fights alongside them. Chorus: How do you mean that, in what way does it fight? Shade of Darius: In that it kills with hunger the greater number of men. Chorus: But when well armed and selected We send out an expedition? Shade of Darius: Not even the army remaining in Hellas’s Territory now will have rescue and Homecoming. Chorus: What are you saying? The army will not come back to us The Barbarian forces over the stream of Helle out of Europe? Shade of Darius: Few out of many, if one must believe the gods’ Prophecies, looking upon what now has happened. For one does not come true, nor does the other. And if that is so, the mass of the army, selected He leaves behind with empty hopes, in vain. They wait, where the river Asopos waters the plains with its floods A friendly fattening for the Boeotian soil Where the worst sorrows stand before them to suffer Penance for their arrogance and godless thoughts They, entering Greece, did not shrink from tearing down Images of the gods, nor from Burning the temples The altars disappeared, the shrines erected to the demons Torn up by their roots From their places and thrown over. Having acted so wickedly, nothing less Do they suffer, and more stands before them,
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 The bottom of these evils has not been reached, rather They are still bubbling up. For there will be such a massive bloody pulp of slaughter Upon the earth of Plataea by Doric lances. Heaps of corpses will, even three generations hence Voicelessly show to the eyes of mortals That not too high may one who is mortal think. Namely arrogance blossoming shoots up this crop of Delusion, and it reaps this all-lamented harvest. Seeing such as this, such things’ punishments Think on Athens and Hellas, that not one of you Considering the present fortunes decreed by the demon Desiring something else pour out the great prosperity. Zeus is at hand, the punisher of all too Overweening thoughts, a severe setter-to-rights. It is he who makes one wise, sensible, Turning one’s head straight And makes it desist from wounding the gods with impudence. But you, old mother of Xerxes, dear one Go into the house and take a proper garment And go unto your son. For about his whole Body fallen into threadbare decay by the pain of these evils Are the tatters of his colorful raiment. But comfort him with friendly words For only when he hears you, alone, this I know, will he bear it. I will go away again, down into the darkness of the earth. And you, elders, farewell, even amid the evils Giving your souls joy after the measure of the day For to the dead wealth is of no use. Chorus: Many present and coming sorrows still For the Barbarians did I listen to in pain. Atossa: O demon of fortunes, how many evil pains come upon me But most biting now is this I hear Of the disgrace of the garments Covering the body of my son. But I will go and fetch a robe from the house And attempt to meet my son. For our dearest we would not betray amid these ills. Chorus: O popoi, a great and a good way Of life, giving the city laws, did we live, when the white-headed All-helping, irreproachable, unconquered King The godlike Darius ruled over the land. Once, we displayed glorious campaigns And order for all the fortresses Did we establish. Home from wars Without sorrow and without care
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Did the men come. So many cities did he take, without Crossing the fords of the Halys river And without stirring forth from his hearth And all those who live about The Strymonian waters, the Acheloians. Inhabitants of Thracian settlements And those outside the sea upon the land Gather around the fortress of this lord And around the fords of Helle, the broad, that Is famed, and the Gulf of Propontis within And the mouths of Pontos And the islands, sea-washed, lying off The coast of this land Such as Lesbos and olive-planted Samos Chios and Poros, Naxos, Myko- Nos, and lying close to Tenos Andros its near neighbor And those lying near the sea, between the coasts, he ruled Lemnos, the seat of Icarus And Rhodos and Knidos and Cyprus’ Cities, Paphos and Soloi and Salamis Whose mother-city is now The cause of this sighing lament And also those who own much in the Ionian land The populous cities of the Greeks He ruled with his wisdom. Indefatigable then was the strength of our men, armed And with plentiful aid. But now we must bear its undoubted reversal by the Gods in wars Conquered by great blows dealt at sea. Xerxes: Io Wretched me, such a terrible lot Cast upon me, and unforseeable How such a cruel one, a demon of ill fortune treads Upon the Persian race. What do I suffer in enduring? Dissolved is the strength in my knees When I look upon these elders of the cities. I would you had preferred, Zeus, to have covered me Along with my men, the departed ones Under the allotment of death. Chorus: Otototoi, King, alas for the army, the good And the honor of the Persian realm And for the jewels of men Who have now been shorn off by a demon of ill fortune. Persia’s youth are now all to be found in the earth
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Bought by Xerxes, who stuffs Hades full of Persians, the earth bewails them. Gone to Hades Are many men, the flower of the land Mighty with the bow, a thicket A thousandfold throng of men has vanished there. Aiai, aiai, alas for their terrible strength. Asia the land, you King of this land Is terribly, terribly fallen to its knees. Xerxes: Here I am, oioi, lamentable A misfortune to my race and to the earth, the fatherly An evil am I become. Chorus: For your homecoming The evil-speaking call, ill-ringing cry Of a Mariandynian mourner Will I send up, a howl of many tears. Xerxes: Let it sound in this way, the lamenting Cacophonous call. For here a god Is turned against me. Chorus: I will let the lament ring out to you Shrinking from the sea-battered weight, bringing woe To the people of the city, the grieving Will I now sound this lament, rich in tears. Xerxes: The Ionian it was who took it away The Ionian, ship-breaking, and he Ares, who lent victory to one side Shearing through the night-dark sea And the coasts with an evil demon. Chorus: Oioioi, cry and ask after all of them. Where is the other throng of your friends Your companions, where Are they, Pharandakes Susas, Pelagon Dodamas, Agdobatas, Psammis And he who left Agbatana, Susiskanes? Xerxes: Perished I left them From Thyrias’ ship Foundering on the shores Of Salamis, upon the rugged Shores driven. Chorus: Oioioi, where is Pharnuchos And Ariomardos, the splendid Where Seualkes, the lord Or Lilaios of noble father Memphis, Tharybis And Masistres and Artembares And Hystaichmas? This I ask you.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Xerxes: Io io woe is me Looking upon the ancient the hated Athens all with one oar-stroke Ee ee, luckless they writhe upon firm land. Chorus: And him also, the Persians’ and your Loyal eye, looking over Thousand upon thousand Son of Batanochos, the most beloved Alpistos and O Seisames, son of Megabates And the great Parthos and Oibares You left them, you left them, o misery. To the Persians the proud more evil than evil you speak. Xerxes: You call up longing, certainly For the good companions In my memory You who speak harshly the horrible horribly. It screams it screams in sorrow from inside my heart. Chorus: And for others still we long For leaders of thousands of Mardian men Xanthis and the valiant Anchares And Diaixis and Arsames And Dadakas and Lythimnas The cavalry-lords And Tolmos, insatiable in spear-combat. I am amazed, I am amazed, that they Do not follow behind your canopied wagons. Xerxes: Perished are the marshals of the army. Chorus: They are gone, oi, nameless. Xerxes: Ie, ie, io, io. Chorus: Io io demons You work evil, unexpected, that stands out As blindness had seen it. Xerxes: We are struck down, so fate has visited our time. Chorus: We are struck down, that is clear. Xerxes: New new the sufferings sufferings. Chorus: The Ionians, the shipfaring ones We could not master, by ill luck. Ill-faring in war are the Persian people. Xerxes: How otherwise? With so great an army was I, unhappy one, defeated! Chorus: What was not? The throngs of Persians perished. Xerxes: You see the rest, the remains here Of my army. Chorus: I see, I see. Xerxes: And this quiver. Chorus: Why, tell us, did you save it?
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Xerxes: A shrine for the arrows. Chorus: How little though of so much. Xerxes: We want for allies. Chorus: The Ionian people do not shy from lances. Xerxes: Very courageous. I saw sorrow, unhoped-for. Chorus: The unshipped shipwrecked host, you mean? Xerxes: My garment have I torn for misfortune. Chorus: Papai papai. Xerxes: And still more than papai. Chorus: Doubled is it and threefold. Xerxes: Grief, joy to our enemies. Chorus: And our power was mutilated. Xerxes: Stripped am I of companions. Chorus: By the blinding of our friends upon the sea. Xerxes: Lament lament the sorrow. To your home go! Chorus: I mourn and am lamentable. Xerxes: Cry out now to resound with me! Chorus: A donation of evils to evils. Xerxes: Cry out now to the same beat. Chorus: Otototoi Heavy is this fate Woes, I too feel great pain over this. Xerxes: Strike strike and groan for my sake. Chorus: Aiai, aiai, anguish, anguish. Xerxes: Cry out now to echo me! Chorus: This is what we dwell on Lord. Xerxes: Raise now your laments! Chorus: Otototoi Black are these woes mixed in With groan-exacting blows. Xerxes: And tearing at your breast cry out the Mysian shriek! Chorus: Agony agony! Xerxes: For me for me despoil the white hairs Of your beards. Chorus: Ever and ever, worth bewailing. Xerxes: Scream sharply! Chorus: This too will I do. Xerxes: The garment on your breast tear with the strength of your hands! Chorus: Agony agony. Xerxes: Tear your hair and grieve for the army! Chorus: Ever and ever, worth bewailing. Xerxes: Make moist your eyes! Chorus: I moisten them. Xerxes: Cry out now to echo me! Chorus: Oioi oioi. Xerxes: With agony now go into the house!
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Chorus: Io io the Persian land is hard to walk upon. Xerxes: Over the city the din. Chorus: The din, yes yes. Xerxes: Lament, go softly. Chorus: Io io the Persian land is hard to walk upon. Xerxes: Ie ie with three-oared Ie ie, ships gone down. Chorus: I will accompany you with shrill- Resounding laments.
The translations by Peter Witzmann (PROMETHEUS, THE ORESTEIA, THE PERSIANS) are interlinear versions. They distinguish themselves from others by their close contact with the old texts. They don’t dress the author in the uniform of the time, the way that the swift Wilhelmine of Droysen or Wilamowitz and their successors does. The Gestus of the original does not disappear in informa- tion on the subject-matter. That makes them dark and for hasty readers difficult to access. They should be read the way they were written, not by the sentence but word by word. The darkness illuminates the interval between Aeschylus and us. In the distance appears the continuum of human existence and in the continuum the difference. Heiner Müller In 1990 Christoph Nel was offered a chance to mount a production at the Freie Volksbühne in Berlin. His proposal, to produce Aeschylus’ drama The Persians quickly attracted the interest of Heiner Müller. From early on a translation by Peter Witzmann was taken as the foundation for the work, which was completed around the end of 1990. Müller’s version took shape partly as rehearsals got underway. A principal interest of Müller’s, according to Nel, lay in the collapse of social archi- tectures system-structures. In this connection Müller remarked in discussion with Christoph Rüter, “If you look from a distance into this text by Witzmann, it’s as though it were a geological layer. Before, you could go right over it, earlier it had coherence. Now you can only break pieces off, and that I find beautiful in the art of translation. It is not fragmentation, simply, you can’t lift the ground all at once. You always have only parts, important are the joints in between, where you notice there is actually an abyss there.” The staging, the radical decisions of which Müller (according to Nel) expressly supported, worked with a plain stage design, the text was underlaid with mechanical, rhythmic sounds. The spectators were placed in the middle of the stage, the (frequently choral) recitation of the text created a space of sound (music by Blixa Bargeld). (Additional notes by Frank Hornigk are from an appendix to the text in the 2004 Suhrkamp edition of the Werke, Band 7: Die Stücke 5, pp. 837–38).
THE PERSIANS by Aeschylus, version by Heiner Müller, based on a trans- lation by Peter Witzmann, and developed 1990/91. It was first published in Aischylos: Die Perser. Übertragung Peter Witzmann. Bearbeitung Heiner Müller. Hergestellt Christoph Rüter, Berlin, 1991, S. 14–62.
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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/pajj.2009.31.2.85 by guest on 30 September 2021 Thomas Freeland received his B.F.A. and M.A. in Theatre from the University of Colorado, and his Ph.D. in Drama from Stanford Uni- versity where he translated and directed the world-premiere production of Heiner Müller’s Mommsen’s Block. He has also staged Müller’s Mauser and Quartett. He is currently a Lecturer in the Oral Communication Program at Stanford.
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