Enter a Chorus of Furies

Chorus
His trail glows clear like a track of fire.
Invisible and silent the spoor
Of the polluted man.
The smell of his mothers womb clings to his heels
And sweats from his instep.
Plain as the blood-splashed route of a wounded stag
In the noses of hounds.
Again and again he has tricked us and escaped us.
Again and again, in every corner
Of every land, we have sniffed him out.
He cannot escape us for long.
We have skimmed over seas, wingless,
And bounded among high peaks,
Running him down. Again and again
We have found him, sleeping exhausted.
We have collapsed around him, exhausted,
And again he has slipped away, and always escaped us.
Now he is here. Where is he?
He has squeezed himself into some cranny
Like a bat. He is here, somewhere.
The reek of his fear is thick in the air.
Look1 There! Thats him.
The matricide.
Block the door, close the trap,
Dont let him get away.
Once again hes found a refuge
From the taste of our whips this time
Clinging to the stature of a goddess
And begging for a justice
Kinder than these lashes
That slice at his heart and flay his spirit.
There is no hope for Orestes.
His mothers blood, with the voice of earth,
Convicts him from the earth
He can never compel it
To go back into her body.
Now you shall pay us, Orestes,
For the blood of your mother
With your own, which was hers.
Your guilty soul
Shall render to us
The rags of the body

She gave you.

As long as you live
Your body will render
To us these dues.
Fate has granted
Your body to us
To hunt, and consume,
Till you are dead.
Nobody alive
Can escape
The exact accounting
For sin against heaven,
Sin against parent, sin against guest,
Payment of flesh payment
In the suffering of the body.
Flesh is the food
Of the earths justice.
Death sits in session
Over mans days.
None can escape
The register
Of his every word, his every thought
Kept by death.