for his distress, for his loneliness,
with no countryman at his side;
he is accursed, always alone,
brought down by bitter illness;
he wanders, distraught,
thrown off balance by simple needs.
How can he withstand such ceaseless misfortune?
O, the violent snares laid out by the gods!
O, the unhappy human race,
living always on the edge,
always in excess.
He might have been a well-born man,
second to none of the noble Greek houses.
Now he has no part of the good life,
and he lies alone, apart from others,
among spotted deer and shaggy, wild goats.
His mind is fixed on pain and hunger.
He groans in anguish,
and only a babbling echo answers,
poured out from afar,
in answer to his lamentations.
NEOPTOLEMOS
None of this amazes me.
It is the work of divine Fate,
if I understand rightly.
Savage Chryse set these sufferings on him,
the share of sufferings he must now endure.
His torments are not random.
The gods, surely, must heap them on him,
so that he cannot bend the invincible bow
until the right time comes, decreed by Zeus,
and as it is promised, Troy is made to fall.
CHORUS
Be quiet, boy.
NEOPTOLEMOS
What is it?
CHORUS
A clear groan---
the steadfast companion of one walking in pain.
Where is it?
Now comes a noise:
a man writhes along his path,
from afar comes the sigh of a burdened man---
the cry has carried.
Pay attention, boy.
NEOPTOLEMOS
To what?
CHORUS
To my second explanation. He is not so far away.
He is inside his cave. He is not walking abroad
to his panpipe's doleful song,
like a shepherd wandering with his flocks.
Rather he has bumped his wounded leg and shouts
as if to someone far away,
as if to someone he has seen at the harbor.
The cry he makes is terrible.
PHILOKTETES
You there, you strangers:
who are you who have landed from the sea
on an island without houses or fair harbor?
From what country should I think you,
and guess it correctly? You look Greek to me.
You wear Greek clothes, and I love to see them.
I want to hear you speak my tongue.
Do not shun me, amazed
to face a man who has become so wild.
Pity one who is damned and alone,
wasted away by his sufferings.
Speak. Speak, if you come as friends.
Answer me. It is unreasonable
not to answer each other's questions.
NEOPTOLEMOS
We are Greeks. You wanted to know.
PHILOKTETES
O, beloved tongue! I understand you!
That I should hear Greek words after so many years!
Who are you, boy? Who sent you? What brought you?
What urged you here? What lucky wind?
Answer. Let me know who you are.
NEOPTOLEMOS
My people are from wavebound Skyros, an island.
I am sailing homeward.
I am called Neoptolemos, Achilles's son.
Now you know everything.
PHILOKTETES
Son of a man whom I once loved,
son of my beloved country,
nursed by ancient Lykomedes---
what business brought you here?
Where is it that you sail from?
NEOPTOLEMOS
I sail from Troy.
PHILOKTETES
What? You sail away from Troy?
You were not there with us at the start.
NEOPTOLEMOS
Did you take part in that misery?
PHILOKTETES
Then you do not know who stands before you?
NEOPTOLEMOS
I have never seen you before. How could I know you?
PHILOKTETES
You do not know my name?
The fame my woes have given me?
The men who brought me to my ruin?
NEOPTOLEMOS
You see one who knows nothing of your story.
PHILOKTETES
Then I am truly damned. The gods must surely hate me
for not even a rumor to have come to Greece
of how I live here.
The wicked men who abandoned me
keep their secret, then, and laugh,
while the disease that dwells within me grows,
and grows stronger.
My son, child of great Achilles,
you may yet have heard of me somehow:
I am Philoktetes, Poias's son,
the master of Herakles's weapons.
Agamemnon, Menelaos, and Odysseus
marooned me here, with no one to help me,
as I wasted away with a savage disease,
struck down by a viper's hideous bite.
After I was bitten, we put in here
on the way from Chryse to rejoin the fleet
and they cast me ashore.
After our rough passage, they were glad to see me
fall asleep on the seacliffs, inside this cave.
Then they went off, leaving with me
rags and breadcrumbs, and few of each.
May the same soon befall them.
Think of it, child: how I awoke
to find them gone and myself left alone.
Think of how I cried, how I cursed myself,
when I knew my ship had gone off with them,
and not a man was left to help me
overcome this illness.
I could see nothing before me but grief and pain,
and those in abundance.
Time ran its course.
I have had to make my own life,
to be my own servant in this tiny cave.
I seek out birds to fill my stomach,
and shoot them down.
After I let loose a tautly drawn bolt,
I drag myself along on this stinking foot.
When I had to drink the water that pours from this spring,
in icy winter, I had to break up wood,
crippled as I am,
and melt the ice alone.
I dragged myself around and did it.
And if the fire went out, I had to sit,
and grind stone against stone
until a spark sprang up to save my life.
This roof, if I have fire, at least gives me a home,
gives me all that I need to stay alive
except release from my anguish.
Come, child, let me tell you of this island.
No one comes here willingly.
There is no anchorage here, nor any place
to land, profit in trade, and be received.
Intelligent people know not to come here,
but sometimes they do, against their will.
In the long time I have been here, it was bound to happen.
When those people put in, they pitied me---
or pretended to, at least---and gave me new clothes
and a bit of food. But when I asked for a homeward passage,
they would never take me with them.
It is my tenth year of hunger and the ravaging illness
that I feed with my flesh.
The Atreids and Odysseus did this to me.
May the Olympian gods give them pain in return.
CHORUS
&nb
sp; I am like those who came here before.
I pity you, unlucky Philoktetes.
NEOPTOLEMOS
And I am a witness to your words.
I know you speak truly, for I have known them,
the evil Atreids and violent Odysseus.
PHILOKTETES
Do you too have a claim
against the all-destroying house of Atreus?
Have they made you suffer? Is that why you are angry?
NEOPTOLEMOS
May the anger I carry be avenged by this hand,
so that Mycenae and Sparta, too, may know
that mother Skyros bears brave men.
PHILOKTETES
Well spoken, boy.
What wrath have they incited in you?
NEOPTOLEMOS
Philoketetes, I will tell you everything,
although it pains me to remember.
When I came to Troy, they heaped dishonor on me,
after Achilles had met his death in battle....
PHILOKTETES
Tell me no more until I am sure I've heard rightly:
is Achilles, son of Peleus, dead?
NEOPTOLEMOS
Yes, dead, shot down by no living man,
but by a god, so I've been told.
He was laid low by Lord Apollo's arrows.
PHILOKTETES
The two were noble, the killer and the killed.
I am not sure what to do now---
to hear out your story or mourn your father.
NEOPTOLEMOS
It seems to me that your woes are enough
without taking on the woes of others.
PHILOKTETES
You speak rightly. Now tell me more,
what they did---that is, how they insulted you.
NEOPTOLEMOS
They came for me in their mighty warships
with painted prows and streaming battle flags.
Odysseus and my father's tutor were the ones.
They came with a story, true or a lie,
that the gods had decreed, since my father had died,
that I alone could storm Troy's walls.
So they said.
You can be sure that I lost no time
in gathering my things and sailing with them,
out of love for my father, whom I wanted to see
before the earth swallowed him.
I had never seen him alive.
And I would be proved brave if I captured Troy.
We had a good wind. In two days we made bitter Sigeion.
A mass of soldiers raised a cheer,
saying dead Achilles still walked among them.
They had not yet buried him.
I wept for my father. And then I went
to the Atreids, my father's supposed friends,
as was fitting, and I asked for my father's weapons
and his other things.
They said with feigned sorrow, "Son of Achilles,
you may have the other things,
but not Achilles's weapons.
Those now belong to Laertes's son."
I leapt up then, crying in grief and anger,
and said, "You bastards, how dare you
give the things that are mine to other men
without asking me first?"
Then Odysseus, who happened to be there, said, "Listen, boy.
What they did was right. After all, I was the one
who rescued them and your father's body."
Enraged, I cursed him with all the curses I could think of,
leaving nothing out, curses that would be set in motion
if he were truly to rob me.
Odysseus is not a quarrelsome man,
but what I said stung him. He replied,
"Boy, you're a newcomer. You have been at home,
out of harm's way. You judge me too harshly.
You cannot keep a civil tongue.
For all that, you will not take his weapons home."
You see, I took abuse from both sides. I lost
the things that were mine, and I sailed home.
Odysseus, the bastard son of bastards,
robbed me. But I blame him less than the generals.
They rule whole cities and a mighty army.
Bad men become so by watching bad teachers.
I have told you all. May he who hates the Atreids
be as dear to the gods as he is to me.
CHORUS
O mountainous, all-nourishing Mother Earth,
Mother of Zeus, our lord, himself,
you who range the golden Paktolos,
Mother of pain and sorrow, I begged you,
Blessed Mother, borne by bull-slaying lions,
on that day when the arrogant Atreids
insulted him, when they gave away his weapons
to the son of Laertes.
Hail, goddess, the highest object of our awe.
PHILOKTETES
You have sailed here, clearly, with a just cause of pain.
Your share of grief almost matches mine. What you say
harmonizes with what I know of them---
the evil doings of the Atreids and Odysseus.
I know that Odysseus spins out lies
with his evil tongue, which he uses
to create all manner of injustice;
he brings no good to pass, I know.
Still, it amazes me to learn
that Ajax, seeing these things, should permit them.
NEOPTOLEMOS
He is dead now, friend. If he lived,
they would never have stolen the weapons from me.
PHILOKTETES
So Ajax, too, is dead.
NEOPTOLEMOS
Dead. Think of it.
PHILOKTETES
It saddens me. But the son of Tydeus, and Odysseus,
whom Sisyphos, I have heard, sold to Laertes,
they who merited death are still alive.
NEOPTOLEMOS
You are right, of course. They are flourishing.
They live in high glory among the Greeks.
PHILOKTETES
And my old friend, that honest man, Nestor of Pylos?
Does he still live?
He used to contain their evil with his wise counsel.
NEOPTOLEMOS
Nestor has fallen on evil times.
His son, Antilochos, who was with him, is dead.
PHILOKTETES
O!
You have told me of two deaths that hurt me most.
What can I hope for, now that Ajax and Antilochos
are dead and in the ground, while Odysseus walks,
while he should be the one who is dead?
NEOPTOLEMOS
That one is a clever wrestler. Still,
even the clever stumble.
PHILOKTETES
Tell me, by the gods, how was it with Patroklos,
your father's most beloved friend?
NEOPTOLEMOS
He was dead, too. I will tell you in a word what happened:
War never takes a bad man on purpose,
but good men always.
PHILOKTETES
You are right. Let me ask you, then, of one who is worthless,
but cunning and clever with the words he uses.
NEOPTOLEMOS
You can mean only Odysseus.
PHILOKTETES
No, not him. I mean Thersites,
who was never content to speak just once,
although no one allowed him to speak at all.
Is he alive?
NEOPTOLEMOS
I do not know him, but I have heard that he lives.
PHILOKTETES
He would be. No evil man has died.
The gods, it seems, must care for them well.
It pleases them to keep villains and traitors
out of death's hands; but they always send
good men out of the living world.
How can I make sense of what goes on,
when, praising the gods, I discover that they're evil?
NEOPTOLEMOS
For my part, Philoktetes, I will be more cautious.
I'll keep watch on the Atreids
and on Troy from afar.
I will have no part of their company,
where the worse is stronger than the better,
where noble men die while cowards rule.
I shall not acquiesce to the will of such men.
Rocky Skyros will do very well
for the future. I'll be content to stay at home.
Now I'll go to my ship. Philoktetes,
may the gods keep you. Farewell, then,
and may the gods lift this illness from you
as you have long wished. Let us be off, men,
to make ready for sailing
when the gods permit it.
PHILOKTETES
Are you leaving already?
NEOPTOLEMOS
The weather is clearing.
Opportunity knocks but once, you know.
We must be provisioned and ready when it does.
PHILOKTETES
I beg you by your father, by your dear mother,
by all you have ever loved at home:
do not leave me here
to live on in suffering, now that you have seen me,
and heard what others have said about me.
I am not important to you.
Think of me anyway.
I know that I will be a troublesome cargo for you,
but accept that.
To you and your noble kind, to be cruel
is shameful; to be decent, honorable.
If you leave me, it will make for an awful story.
But if you take me, you'll have the best of men's praise,
that is, if I live to see Oeta's fields.
Come. Your trouble will last scarcely a day.
You can manage that.
Take me and stow me where you want,
in the hold, on the prow, on the stern, anywhere
that I will least offend you.
Swear by Zeus, lord of suppliants,
boy, that you will take me.
I am trying to kneel before you, a cripple,
lame. Do not leave me in this lonely place,
where no one passes by.
Take me to your home,
or to the harbor of Euboean Chalkis.
It is a short journey from there to Oeta,
to the ridges of Trachis and smooth-flowing Spercheios.
Show me there to my beloved father.
I have long feared that he is dead,
or else he would have come for me:
I sent prayerful messages to him through travelers
who happened along here, begging him
to come himself and take me home.
He is dead, then, or more likely
the messengers held me in little regard,
as messengers do, and hurried along to their homes.
In you I have a guard and a herald.
Save me. Have pity.
Look how dangerously we mortals live,
experiencing good, experiencing evil.
If you are out of harm's way, expect horrible things,
and when you live well, take extra care
lest you be caught napping and be destroyed.
CHORUS
Take pity on him, lord.
He has told us of many horrible torments.
May such troubles fall on none of my friends.
If, lord, you hate the terrible Atreids,
put their treatment of him to your advantage.
I would carry him, as he has asked,
away with you on your swift-running ship,
fleeing the gods' cruel punishment.
NEOPTOLEMOS
Be sure you are not too quick to plead,
that when you have had your fill of the company
that his illness will provide you,
you do not stand by your words.
CHORUS
No. You will not be able to reproach me with that
and still speak truly.
NEOPTOLEMOS
Then I would be ashamed
to be less willing than you to serve this man.
If you are sure, let us sail quickly.
Make the man hurry. I won't refuse him my ship.
May the gods keep us safe in leaving this land
and give us safe passage where we wish to sail.
PHILOKTETES
O blessed day and dearest of men,
and you, friend sailors, how can I make it clear to you,
how closely you have bound me in your friendship.
Let us go, my son. But first let us bow down
and kiss the earth in gratitude,
the earth of my home that is no home.
Look inside and you will see
how brave I must be by my very nature.
To endure even the sight of such a place
would have been too much for most men.
But I have had to learn to withstand its evils.
CHORUS
Wait, and watch! Two men approach,
one of our crew and a stranger to me---
let us hear from them. Then you may go inside.
TRADER
Son of Achilles, I ordered this sailor,
who was guarding your ship with two other men,
to tell me where you were.
I came to this island not meaning to.
Accident drove me to this place.
I sail as captain of a cargo vessel