What is it?TecmessaHere is our Ajax—his blood newly shed, he lies folded around the sword, burying it.ChorusAh, no! Our homecoming is lost! Ah, my king, you have killed me, the comrade of your voyage! Unhappy man—broken-hearted woman!TecmessaHis condition demands that we cry aiai.ChorusBut by whose hand can the ill-fated man have contrived this end?TecmessaHe did it with his own hand; it is obvious. This sword which he planted in the ground and on which he fell convicts him.ChorusAh, what blind folly I have displayed! All alone, then, you bled, unguarded by your friends! And I took no care, so entirely dull was I, so totally stupid. Where, where lies inflexible Ajax, whose name means anguish?TecmessaNo, he is not to be looked at! I will cover him over entirely with this enfolding shroud, since no one—no one, that is, who loves him—could bear to see him spurt the darkened gore of his self-inflicted slaughter up his nostrils and out of the bloody gash.