Hermes, messenger to the dead, guardian

of your father’s powers, help rescue me

work with me, I beg you, now I’ve come back,

returned to this land from exile. On this grave,

on this heaped-up earth, I call my father,

imploring him to listen, to hear me

Here’s a lock of hair, offering to Inachus,

the stream where I was raised. Here’s another,

a token of my grief. I was not there,

my father, to mourn your death. I couldn’t stretch

my hand out to you, when they carried off

your corpse for burial.

 What’s this I see?

What’s this crowd of women coming here,

all wearing black in public? What does it mean?

What new turn of fate? Has some fresh sorrow

struck the house? Or am I right to think

they bring libations here to honour you,

my father, to appease the dead below?

That must be it. I see my sister there,

Electra. That’s her approaching with them.

She’s grieving in great pain that’s obvious.

O Zeus, let me avenge my father’s death.

Support me as my ally in this fight.