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Philoctetes screams offstage.
chorus
Be silent, my son!
Neoptolemus
What is it?
chorus
A cry has arisen
as if from a man worn down by pain -
from there - or over there - it came.
Surely I hear the voice of someone
helplessly creeping along;
205I cannot ignore
that grievously wearying voice from afar -
it comes too distinctly.
The women of Trachis and Philoctetes. A new translation in verse by Robert Torrance. Houghton Mifflin. 1966.
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