TheodoridisParodos

Josh Kemp / ParodosForArticle
  • Created on 2023-04-11 21:05:43
  • Modified on 2023-06-28 15:51:48
  • Translated by George Theodoridis
  • Aligned by Josh Kemp
Bacchae, vv. 64-169
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
English
https://scaife.perseus.org/reader/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0006.tlg017.perseus-grc2:64-169?right=perseus-eng2
https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Greek/Bacchae.php
Ἀσίας ἀπὸ γᾶς
ἱερὸν Τμῶλον ἀμείψασα θοάζω
Βρομίῳ πόνον ἡδὺν κάματόν τʼ εὐκάματον ,
Βάκχιον εὐαζομένα .
τίς ὁδῷ τίς ὁδῷ ; τίς ;
μελάθροις ἔκτοπος ἔστω , στόμα τʼ εὔφημον
ἅπας ἐξοσιούσθω ·
τὰ νομισθέντα γὰρ αἰεὶ
Διόνυσον ὑμνήσω .

μάκαρ , ὅστις εὐδαίμων
τελετὰς θεῶν εἰδὼς
βιοτὰν ἁγιστεύει καὶ
θιασεύεται ψυχὰν
ἐν ὄρεσσι βακχεύων
ὁσίοις καθαρμοῖσιν ,
τά τε ματρὸς μεγάλας ὄργια
Κυβέλας θεμιτεύων ,
ἀνὰ θύρσον τε τινάσσων ,
κισσῷ τε στεφανωθεὶς
Διόνυσον θεραπεύει .
ἴτε βάκχαι , ἴτε βάκχαι ,
Βρόμιον παῖδα θεὸν θεοῦ
Διόνυσον κατάγουσαι
Φρυγίων ἐξ ὀρέων Ἑλλάδος εἰς
εὐρυχόρους ἀγυιάς , τὸν Βρόμιον ·
ὅν
ποτʼ ἔχουσʼ ἐν ὠδίνων
λοχίαις ἀνάγκαισι
πταμένας Διὸς βροντᾶς νηδύος
ἔκβολον μάτηρ
ἔτεκεν , λιποῦσʼ αἰῶνα
κεραυνίῳ πληγᾷ ·
λοχίοις δʼ αὐτίκα νιν δέξατο
θαλάμαις Κρονίδας Ζεύς ,
κατὰ μηρῷ δὲ καλύψας
χρυσέαισιν συνερείδει
περόναις κρυπτὸν ἀφʼ Ἥρας .
ἔτεκεν δʼ , ἁνίκα Μοῖραι
τέλεσαν , ταυρόκερων θεὸν
στεφάνωσέν τε δρακόντων
στεφάνοις , ἔνθεν ἄγραν θηροτρόφον
μαινάδες ἀμφιβάλλονται
πλοκάμοις .
Σεμέλας τροφοὶ Θῆβαι ,
στεφανοῦσθε κισσῷ ·
βρύετε βρύετε χλοήρει
μίλακι καλλικάρπῳ
καὶ καταβακχιοῦσθε δρυὸς
ἐλάτας κλάδοισι ,
στικτῶν τʼ ἐνδυτὰ νεβρίδων
στέφετε λευκοτρίχων πλοκάμων
μαλλοῖς · ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰς
ὁσιοῦσθʼ · αὐτίκα γᾶ πᾶσα χορεύσει—
Βρόμιος ὅστις ἄγῃ θιάσουσ—
εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος , ἔνθα μένει
θηλυγενὴς ὄχλος
ἀφʼ ἱστῶν παρὰ κερκίδων τʼ
οἰστρηθεὶς Διονύσῳ .
θαλάμευμα Κουρήτων
ζάθεοί τε Κρήτας
Διογενέτορες ἔναυλοι ,
ἔνθα τρικόρυθες ἄντροις
βυρσότονον κύκλωμα τόδε
μοι Κορύβαντες ηὗρον ·
βακχείᾳ δʼ ἀνὰ συντόνῳ
κέρασαν ἁδυβόᾳ Φρυγίων
αὐλῶν πνεύματι ματρός τε Ῥέας ἐς
χέρα θῆκαν , κτύπον εὐάσμασι Βακχᾶν ·
παρὰ δὲ μαινόμενοι Σάτυροι
ματέρος ἐξανύσαντο θεᾶς ,
ἐς δὲ χορεύματα
συνῆψαν τριετηρίδων ,
αἷς χαίρει Διόνυσος .
ἡδὺς ἐν ὄρεσιν , ὅταν ἐκ θιάσων δρομαίων
πέσῃ πεδόσε , νεβρίδος
ἔχων ἱερὸν ἐνδυτόν , ἀγρεύων
αἷμα τραγοκτόνον , ὠμοφάγον χάριν , ἱέμενος
ἐς ὄρεα Φρύγια , Λύδιʼ , δʼ ἔξαρχος Βρόμιος ,
εὐοἷ .
ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον , ῥεῖ δʼ οἴνῳ , ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν
νέκταρι .
Συρίας δʼ ὡς λιβάνου καπνὸν
Βακχεὺς ἀνέχων
πυρσώδη φλόγα πεύκας
ἐκ νάρθηκος ἀίσσει
δρόμῳ καὶ χοροῖσιν
πλανάτας ἐρεθίζων
ἰαχαῖς τʼ ἀναπάλλων ,
τρυφερόν τε πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων .
ἅμα δʼ εὐάσμασι τοιάδʼ ἐπιβρέμει ·
ἴτε βάκχαι ,
ἴτε βάκχαι ,
Τμώλου χρυσορόου χλιδᾷ
μέλπετε τὸν Διόνυσον
βαρυβρόμων ὑπὸ τυμπάνων ,
εὔια τὸν εὔιον ἀγαλλόμεναι θεὸν
ἐν Φρυγίαισι βοαῖς ἐνοπαῖσί τε ,
λωτὸς ὅταν εὐκέλαδος
ἱερὸς ἱερὰ παίγματα βρέμῃ , σύνοχα
φοιτάσιν εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος · ἡδομένα
δʼ ἄρα , πῶλος ὅπως ἅμα ματέρι
φορβάδι , κῶλον ἄγει ταχύπουν σκιρτήμασι βάκχα .
I’ve left the Asian land , the wholly mount of Tmolos and worked my way here , In speed and hard labour !
In speed and in sweet labour , with a joyous exhaustion
I’ve come to you , singing ecstatic songs for Dionysos , the god who bellows thunders .
Who who’s there ?
Who who’s in the road ?
Who who’s outside their house ?
Let them all shut themselves inside their homes !
Let them all shut their mouths
In holy silence !
O , my Lord , Dionysos !
My voice will always sing your praise !
Blessed is he who knows the sacraments and sacred rites of the gods
And performs Dionysos’ cleansing rituals high on the mountains ,
His soul in unison with the god’s band of followers -
For he lives a life pure ! And blessed is he , too , who has faith in the mysteries of our Great Mother , Cybele
And wears the garland of ivy ,
And waves a Bacchic staff
And bows to Dionysos
He , too , is blessed indeed !
Come , Bacchants !
Bacchants Come !
Let’s bring back Dionysos the god who bellows thunders strong !
A god born of god !
Bring him back from the mountains of Phrygia !
Bring him back , Bacchants ,
To the streets of Greece
Bring back Dionysos !
A long while ago , at the time when his mother’s stomach
Was full with him and with pain ,
Zeus sent his bolt of burning light at her ,
Relieving her of the child , of the pain and of her life ,
Untimely all , all done before time !
And immediately , Zeus snatched the child
and made a womb out of his
Holy thigh , then quickly sowed the wound with
golden needles , lest his wife , Hera , sniffed out the act !
Then , when the Fates weaved whole his time in the womb , Zeus brought forth Bull-horned Dionysos and placed a garland of writhing snakes amidst his tresses , a cause for Beast-eating Maenads to do the same with their wild hair .
A garland of snakes upon the head of a god
A garland of snakes upon the heads of his Maenads !
O Thebes ! Garland yourself with ivy !
Thebes ! You who nurtured Semele ,
Adorn yourselves richly with branches of bryony
And dance wildly with branches of fir and oak !
Put on the dappled fawn skins on your back and crown your heads with soft curls of white wool .
Wrap holy ivy around the rebellious wand of our god and hold it with reverence -
And when our god , Dionysos , the god who bellows thunders , arrives with his ecstatic band there , high upon the mountain , Upon the mountain , to where the women have escaped from their loom and their shuttlecock- all those women , made wild by the frenzy Dionysos sent them , that’s when the whole of Thebes shall dance , shall dance wildly , ecstatically !
When Dionysos arrives upon the mountain .
Home of the Kouretes !
most sacred land of Zeus !
Crete’s deepest valley !
There the three crested Corybantes invented this drum !
A piece of skin tightly drawn over a circle ,
Which when in frenzy they bring together its loud beat with that of the soft breath of the Phrygian Flutes .
This drum they’ve put in mother Rhea’s hands for her to accompany the wild cries of the Bacchants .
Ah , but the sly Satyrs stole it from her hands and straightaway united it with the crazy dances of Dionysos that come every second year .
A splendid joy for the god .
Happy is that Satyr who runs freely in the valley , dressed in the soft , holy skin of a deer , seeking the blood of a slaughtered stag and the joy of eating raw flesh as he charges deep into the mountains of the Phrygians and the Lydians .
First among the blessings , Thunderous Dionysos !
In the valley flows the milk and the sweet wine .
In the valley the nectar from the bees runs freely and so do the smoky smells that are like Syrian incense .
And there the god , holding a fennel torch , lit high , jumps and runs , jumps and runs until he urges his maenads into the mystic dance and with his cries makes them wild .
Look there how he lets his curly tresses loose to the whims of the wind’s breath .
And then , triumphantly he shouts :
Blessings , blessings !
Sing for Dionysos with the heavy sounds of the drum .
Blessings , blessings to the blessed God , with Phrygian shouts and cries , when the sweet-voiced sacred flute plays loud songs in harmony as they travel up the mountain , that mountain .
Joyfully then , like the filly follows her mare , the maenad kicks her legs high .

( 163 ) 38% GRC
( 264 ) 62% GRC - ENG

( 467 ) 54% GRC - ENG
( 393 ) 46% ENG