Odyssey 9.1-38 Fagles Translation Alignment
Robert Lester /
- Created on 2019-04-04 07:13:36
- Modified on 2019-04-15 20:18:53
- Aligned by Robert Lester
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
English
τὸν δʼ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεύς ·
" Ἀλκίνοε κρεῖον , πάντων ἀριδείκετε λαῶν ,
ἦ τοι μὲν τόδε καλὸν ἀκουέμεν ἐστὶν ἀοιδοῦ
τοιοῦδʼ οἷος ὅδʼ ἐστί , θεοῖς ἐναλίγκιος αὐδήν .
οὐ γὰρ ἐγώ γέ τί φημι τέλος χαριέστερον εἶναι
ἢ ὅτʼ ἐυφροσύνη μὲν ἔχῃ κάτα δῆμον ἅπαντα ,
δαιτυμόνες δʼ ἀνὰ δώματʼ ἀκουάζωνται ἀοιδοῦ
ἥμενοι ἑξείης , παρὰ δὲ πλήθωσι τράπεζαι
σίτου καὶ κρειῶν , μέθυ δʼ ἐκ κρητῆρος ἀφύσσων
οἰνοχόος φορέῃσι καὶ ἐγχείῃ δεπάεσσι ·
τοῦτό τί μοι κάλλιστον ἐνὶ φρεσὶν εἴδεται εἶναι .
σοὶ δʼ ἐμὰ κήδεα θυμὸς ἐπετράπετο στονόεντα
εἴρεσθʼ , ὄφρʼ ἔτι μᾶλλον ὀδυρόμενος στεναχίζω ·
τί πρῶτόν τοι ἔπειτα , τί δʼ ὑστάτιον καταλέξω ;
κήδεʼ ἐπεί μοι πολλὰ δόσαν θεοὶ Οὐρανίωνες .
νῦν δʼ ὄνομα πρῶτον μυθήσομαι , ὄφρα καὶ ὑμεῖς
εἴδετʼ , ἐγὼ δʼ ἂν ἔπειτα φυγὼν ὕπο νηλεὲς ἦμαρ
ὑμῖν ξεῖνος ἔω καὶ ἀπόπροθι δώματα ναίων .
εἴμʼ Ὀδυσεὺς Λαερτιάδης , ὃς πᾶσι δόλοισιν
ἀνθρώποισι μέλω , καί μευ κλέος οὐρανὸν ἵκει .
ναιετάω δʼ Ἰθάκην ἐυδείελον · ἐν δʼ ὄρος αὐτῇ
Νήριτον εἰνοσίφυλλον , ἀριπρεπές · ἀμφὶ δὲ νῆσοι
πολλαὶ ναιετάουσι μάλα σχεδὸν ἀλλήλῃσι ,
Δουλίχιόν τε Σάμη τε καὶ ὑλήεσσα Ζάκυνθος .
αὐτὴ δὲ χθαμαλὴ πανυπερτάτη εἰν ἁλὶ κεῖται
πρὸς ζόφον , αἱ δέ τʼ ἄνευθε πρὸς ἠῶ τʼ ἠέλιόν τε ,
τρηχεῖʼ , ἀλλʼ ἀγαθὴ κουροτρόφος · οὔ τοι ἐγώ γε
ἧς γαίης δύναμαι γλυκερώτερον ἄλλο ἰδέσθαι .
ἦ μέν μʼ αὐτόθʼ ἔρυκε Καλυψώ , δῖα θεάων ,
ἐν σπέσσι γλαφυροῖσι , λιλαιομένη πόσιν εἶναι ·
ὣς δʼ αὔτως Κίρκη κατερήτυεν ἐν μεγάροισιν
Αἰαίη δολόεσσα , λιλαιομένη πόσιν εἶναι ·
ἀλλʼ ἐμὸν οὔ ποτε θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἔπειθον .
ὣς οὐδὲν γλύκιον ἧς πατρίδος οὐδὲ τοκήων
γίγνεται , εἴ περ καί τις ἀπόπροθι πίονα οἶκον
γαίῃ ἐν ἀλλοδαπῇ ναίει ἀπάνευθε τοκήων .
εἰ δʼ ἄγε τοι καὶ νόστον ἐμὸν πολυκηδέʼ ἐνίσπω ,
ὅν μοι Ζεὺς ἐφέηκεν ἀπὸ Τροίηθεν ἰόντι .
" Ἀλκίνοε κρεῖον , πάντων ἀριδείκετε λαῶν ,
ἦ τοι μὲν τόδε καλὸν ἀκουέμεν ἐστὶν ἀοιδοῦ
τοιοῦδʼ οἷος ὅδʼ ἐστί , θεοῖς ἐναλίγκιος αὐδήν .
οὐ γὰρ ἐγώ γέ τί φημι τέλος χαριέστερον εἶναι
ἢ ὅτʼ ἐυφροσύνη μὲν ἔχῃ κάτα δῆμον ἅπαντα ,
δαιτυμόνες δʼ ἀνὰ δώματʼ ἀκουάζωνται ἀοιδοῦ
ἥμενοι ἑξείης , παρὰ δὲ πλήθωσι τράπεζαι
σίτου καὶ κρειῶν , μέθυ δʼ ἐκ κρητῆρος ἀφύσσων
οἰνοχόος φορέῃσι καὶ ἐγχείῃ δεπάεσσι ·
τοῦτό τί μοι κάλλιστον ἐνὶ φρεσὶν εἴδεται εἶναι .
σοὶ δʼ ἐμὰ κήδεα θυμὸς ἐπετράπετο στονόεντα
εἴρεσθʼ , ὄφρʼ ἔτι μᾶλλον ὀδυρόμενος στεναχίζω ·
τί πρῶτόν τοι ἔπειτα , τί δʼ ὑστάτιον καταλέξω ;
κήδεʼ ἐπεί μοι πολλὰ δόσαν θεοὶ Οὐρανίωνες .
νῦν δʼ ὄνομα πρῶτον μυθήσομαι , ὄφρα καὶ ὑμεῖς
εἴδετʼ , ἐγὼ δʼ ἂν ἔπειτα φυγὼν ὕπο νηλεὲς ἦμαρ
ὑμῖν ξεῖνος ἔω καὶ ἀπόπροθι δώματα ναίων .
εἴμʼ Ὀδυσεὺς Λαερτιάδης , ὃς πᾶσι δόλοισιν
ἀνθρώποισι μέλω , καί μευ κλέος οὐρανὸν ἵκει .
ναιετάω δʼ Ἰθάκην ἐυδείελον · ἐν δʼ ὄρος αὐτῇ
Νήριτον εἰνοσίφυλλον , ἀριπρεπές · ἀμφὶ δὲ νῆσοι
πολλαὶ ναιετάουσι μάλα σχεδὸν ἀλλήλῃσι ,
Δουλίχιόν τε Σάμη τε καὶ ὑλήεσσα Ζάκυνθος .
αὐτὴ δὲ χθαμαλὴ πανυπερτάτη εἰν ἁλὶ κεῖται
πρὸς ζόφον , αἱ δέ τʼ ἄνευθε πρὸς ἠῶ τʼ ἠέλιόν τε ,
τρηχεῖʼ , ἀλλʼ ἀγαθὴ κουροτρόφος · οὔ τοι ἐγώ γε
ἧς γαίης δύναμαι γλυκερώτερον ἄλλο ἰδέσθαι .
ἦ μέν μʼ αὐτόθʼ ἔρυκε Καλυψώ , δῖα θεάων ,
ἐν σπέσσι γλαφυροῖσι , λιλαιομένη πόσιν εἶναι ·
ὣς δʼ αὔτως Κίρκη κατερήτυεν ἐν μεγάροισιν
Αἰαίη δολόεσσα , λιλαιομένη πόσιν εἶναι ·
ἀλλʼ ἐμὸν οὔ ποτε θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἔπειθον .
ὣς οὐδὲν γλύκιον ἧς πατρίδος οὐδὲ τοκήων
γίγνεται , εἴ περ καί τις ἀπόπροθι πίονα οἶκον
γαίῃ ἐν ἀλλοδαπῇ ναίει ἀπάνευθε τοκήων .
εἰ δʼ ἄγε τοι καὶ νόστον ἐμὸν πολυκηδέʼ ἐνίσπω ,
ὅν μοι Ζεὺς ἐφέηκεν ἀπὸ Τροίηθεν ἰόντι .
Odysseus
,
the
great
teller
of
tales
,
launched
out
on
his
story
:
" Alcinous , majesty , shining among your island people ,
what a fine thing it is to listen to such a bard
as we have here—the man sings like a god .
The crown of life , I’d say . There’s nothing better
than when deep joy holds sway throughout the realm
and banqueters up and down the palace sit in ranks ,
enthralled to hear the bard , and before them all , the tables
heaped with bread and meats , and drawing wine from a mixing-bowl the steward makes his rounds and keeps the winecups flowing .
This , to my mind , is the best that life can offer .
But now you’re set on probing the bitter pains I’ve borne ,
so I’m to weep and grieve , it seems , still more . Well then , what shall I go through first ,
what shall I save for last ?
What pains—the gods have given me my share .
Now let me begin by telling you my name . . .
so you may know it well and I in times to come , if I can escape the fatal day , will be your host ,
your sworn friend , though my home is far from here .
I am Odysseus , son of Laertes , known to the world
for every kind of craft—my fame has reached the skies .
Sunny Ithaca is my home . Atop her stands our seamark ,
Mount Neriton’s leafy ridges shimmering in the wind .
Around her a ring of islands circle side-by-side , Dulichion , Same , wooded Zacynthus too , but mine lies low and away , the farthest out to sea ,
rearing into the western dusk
while the others face the east and breaking day . Mine is a rugged land but good for raising sons—
and I myself , I know no sweeter sight on earth than a man’s own native country .
True enough , Calypso the lustrous goddess tried to hold me back ,
deep in her arching caverns , craving me for a husband . So did Circe , holding me just as warmly in her halls , the bewitching queen of Aeaea keen to have me too . But they never won the heart inside me , never .
So nothing is as sweet as a man’s own country , his own parents , even though he’s settled down in some luxurious house , off in a foreign land and far from those who bore him .
No more . Come ,
let me tell you about the voyage fraught with hardship
Zeus inflicted on me , homeward bound from Troy
" Alcinous , majesty , shining among your island people ,
what a fine thing it is to listen to such a bard
as we have here—the man sings like a god .
The crown of life , I’d say . There’s nothing better
than when deep joy holds sway throughout the realm
and banqueters up and down the palace sit in ranks ,
enthralled to hear the bard , and before them all , the tables
heaped with bread and meats , and drawing wine from a mixing-bowl the steward makes his rounds and keeps the winecups flowing .
This , to my mind , is the best that life can offer .
But now you’re set on probing the bitter pains I’ve borne ,
so I’m to weep and grieve , it seems , still more . Well then , what shall I go through first ,
what shall I save for last ?
What pains—the gods have given me my share .
Now let me begin by telling you my name . . .
so you may know it well and I in times to come , if I can escape the fatal day , will be your host ,
your sworn friend , though my home is far from here .
I am Odysseus , son of Laertes , known to the world
for every kind of craft—my fame has reached the skies .
Sunny Ithaca is my home . Atop her stands our seamark ,
Mount Neriton’s leafy ridges shimmering in the wind .
Around her a ring of islands circle side-by-side , Dulichion , Same , wooded Zacynthus too , but mine lies low and away , the farthest out to sea ,
rearing into the western dusk
while the others face the east and breaking day . Mine is a rugged land but good for raising sons—
and I myself , I know no sweeter sight on earth than a man’s own native country .
True enough , Calypso the lustrous goddess tried to hold me back ,
deep in her arching caverns , craving me for a husband . So did Circe , holding me just as warmly in her halls , the bewitching queen of Aeaea keen to have me too . But they never won the heart inside me , never .
So nothing is as sweet as a man’s own country , his own parents , even though he’s settled down in some luxurious house , off in a foreign land and far from those who bore him .
No more . Come ,
let me tell you about the voyage fraught with hardship
Zeus inflicted on me , homeward bound from Troy