who chastise the crimes of men,
you whose hair made of snakes
cause a horrible anger
bubbling in your souls,
come, come running towards me
to my anger that moans as pain
tearing the entrails
on a woman lost,
blinded delirium and powerless.
The complaints coming from me
are so real, do not let my pain
activate my vengeance,
and Theseus, oblivious of me
and my fate this something
that brings death to a parent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem