nulla fugae ratio , nulla spes : omnia muta ,
omnia sunt deserta , ostentant omnia letum .
non tamen ante mihi languescent lumina morte ,
nec prius a fesso secedent corpore sensus ,
quam iustam a divis exposcam prodita multam
caelestumque fidem postrema comprecer hora .
quare facta virum multantes vindice poena
Eumenides , quibus anguino redimita capillo
frons exspirantis praeportat pectoris iras ,
huc huc adventate , meas audite querellas ,
quas ego , vae misera , extremis proferre medullis
cogor inops , ardens , amenti caeca furore .
quae quoniam verae nascuntur pectore ab imo ,
vos nolite pati nostrum vanescere luctum ,
sed quali solam Theseus me mente reliquit ,
tali mente , deae , funestet seque suosque . '

There is no planned flight , no hope : all things changed ,
All things were deserted , they exhibited all death .
However , before , death weakened the light
nor will my senses leave my tired body ,
How the just by the gods I demand many things
I prayed to the heavenly of faith in my final hour
In what way many strength will defend by the penalty
of Eumenides , whose snaky hair encircles around
the forehead y’all breathe out it carries of the angry chest
to this place approaches , you listen to my complaints ,
which I , alas pity , the limit to bring forward I collected
the weak marrow , burning , the demented rage blinds .
Who no indeed because true destined by the chest ,
I mourn you refuse to suffer our vanish ,
But , goddess , what kind only Theseus leaves behind my mind ,
both himself and his own people .

No way to fly , no hope : all is mute ,
all is deserted , all speaks of ruin .
Yet still my eyes do not droop in death ,
not till my senses have left my weary body ,
till true justice is handed down by the gods ,
and the divine help I pray for in my last hour .
So you Eumenides who punish by avenging
the crimes of men , your foreheads crowned
with snaky hair , bearing anger in your breath ,
here , here , come to me , listen to my complaints ,
that I , wretched alas , force , weakened , burning ,
out of the marrow of my bones , blind with mad rage .
Since these truths are born in the depths of my breast ,
you won’t allow my lament to pass you by ,
but as Theseus left me alone , through his intent ,
goddesses , by that will , pursue him and his with murder . ’