Geryoneis S7 (“Eurytion Was Born”)
] almost on the other side
of famous Erytheia
nearby
the river Tartessus, its un-
known waters root silver
in a hiding place rock [
Geryoneis S15 (col. ii) (“Geryon Was Killed”)
] hateful
death’s finish, skull
around holds
arrowheads
allstained
with blood & gall
birthed pain
of Hydra
manslaughtering
& goosenecked.
In silence, thief
he penetrated brow
cleaved flesh
& bone
for god’s decision.
Straight held arrow
into crowning
head
plumblood stained
chest & raw limbs
Geryon, his
neck drooped
like a poppy who
shames its softbody
& drops all petals
at once [
Palinode (“The Poet Apologizes to Helen”)
Not true, this story.
No, you did not go in ships with good benches.
No, you did not come on your knees to the citadel of Troy,
Sack of Troy S88 (col. ii) (“The Debate”)
] quickening to the sanctuary
on the acropolis O Trojans
with your bounty of allies,
go! let us not obey storywords
this horse
chaste votive for goddess
Herself let us not cover it
with dishonor wickedly
let us revere our Lady
Her anger
he said as much and they
considered
great horse
as from a thicket
feathers close like leaves
circlehawk with galloping wings
starlings lifted up their
voices screaming [
Sack of Troy S107 (“Helen and Menelaus”)
] lovely
and so she said to him
how can you love me
with my bad name?
and so
he answered her,
Five Poems
Stesichorus
translated from the Ancient Greek by Em Setzer
Read the original in Ancient Greek
Listen to three of these poems read in the original ancient Greek by Artemis Anastasakis:
The poems here represent some of Stesichorus’s most famous work. From the Geryoneis (Γηρυονηΐς), we have fragments S7 and S15 (column ii), describing the mythical characters Eurytion and Geryon. Geryon—the titular character of Stesichorus’s narrative poem—is a monster who owns a herd of red cattle, and Eurytion is his herdsman. The hero Heracles, to complete his tenth labor, kills Geryon and takes his cattle. Stesichorus’s “Palinode” (Παλινῳδία) is effectively a poetic apology, issued to Helen of Troy after she supposedly blinded him for saying she caused the Trojan War. Stesichorus’s “Sack of Troy” (Ἰλίου πέρσις) details the events of the Trojan War; fragment S88 (col. ii) shows Trojans debating what to do with the Horse, and S107 is a conversation between Helen and her husband Menelaus, in medias res.
Translating Stesichorus is an almost synesthetic experience. As an author, he has a way of bringing lofty narratives down into the light; at the climax of the battle between Geryon and Heracles, Stesichorus brings the reader close, until the noise of the scene fades away and we are left with a single image: the slump of dying Geryon’s head, like a wilting poppy. Such an intimate perspective is undeniably moving, but it makes for difficult translating when the text is full of lacunae. As such, the work of translation turns into stringing together a garland of beautiful images with little in between, and it is up to the translator to ensure these images are rendered starkly enough that they can stand on their own.
Enter specificity. This is the key to translating Stesichorus. The river Tartessus is not just silver (argyrorizos) but it is silver from metallic deposits in its banks. A rock is not just hollow (keythmón) but a hiding place; blood is not just purple (porphyreos) but plum, and so on. Just as Stesichorus was willing to give standard Homeric epithets a fresh coat of paint, the translator must be willing to do the same with our even more limited English. This may mean splitting the Greek open and salvaging its parts. At the end of the day, perhaps the most important characteristic of Stesichorus’s poetry—a playful, almost daring love of language—must be preserved, and this is what I have tried to do.
Translating Stesichorus is an almost synesthetic experience. As an author, he has a way of bringing lofty narratives down into the light; at the climax of the battle between Geryon and Heracles, Stesichorus brings the reader close, until the noise of the scene fades away and we are left with a single image: the slump of dying Geryon’s head, like a wilting poppy. Such an intimate perspective is undeniably moving, but it makes for difficult translating when the text is full of lacunae. As such, the work of translation turns into stringing together a garland of beautiful images with little in between, and it is up to the translator to ensure these images are rendered starkly enough that they can stand on their own.
Enter specificity. This is the key to translating Stesichorus. The river Tartessus is not just silver (argyrorizos) but it is silver from metallic deposits in its banks. A rock is not just hollow (keythmón) but a hiding place; blood is not just purple (porphyreos) but plum, and so on. Just as Stesichorus was willing to give standard Homeric epithets a fresh coat of paint, the translator must be willing to do the same with our even more limited English. This may mean splitting the Greek open and salvaging its parts. At the end of the day, perhaps the most important characteristic of Stesichorus’s poetry—a playful, almost daring love of language—must be preserved, and this is what I have tried to do.
Stesichorus (ca. 630–555 ʙ.ᴄ.ᴇ.) was an ancient Greek poet. Considered to be one of the nine major lyric poets of antiquity, he was known for his choral lyric verse on epic themes, as well as his particular talent for crafting adjectives. Much of his work only survives in fragments, such as his famous poem Geryoneis, which details the life of Geryon, a monster best known as a victim of Heracles.
Em Setzer is a poet from Maryland. They are a recent graduate of Bard College, where they studied classics and poetry. Their work has also been published in LUPERCALIA Press's digital anthology, (M)othertongues Magazine, and The Foundationalist.
