Which Translation: The Odyssey

Jeffrey Scott Bernstein

2022 · Free verse

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Biography

Jeffrey Scott Bernstein was born in Massachusetts and is a graduate of the University of Sheffield. He is an independent scholar and novelist whose published translations include The Oresteia of Aeschylus and Sappho: Poems.

Bernstein translated the Odyssey into verse over the course of 8 months in 2021 and 2022. He then turned his attention to the Iliad, and made both his Odyssey and Iliad translations freely available as rough drafts online.

Bernstein's Oresteia was reviewed by Emily Wilson in the London Review of Books alongside two other new translations. His Homer translations, self-published and freely distributed, have not received formal scholarly review.

Publication History

  • 2022 — self-published, The Odyssey of Homer ★

Reviews

The proem

1.1–11
O Muse, speak to me of the many-sided man,
of his many wanderings after his destruction
of the mighty city of Troy. Many people
and places he came to know, their ways and habits;
astray at sea he suffered much to save his life
and return home with his companions. But his men
would not be saved, but perished, for like foolish children
they ate the cattle of the sun-god Helios: so the men asea
day by day were denied their return. O goddess,
daughter of Zeus, begin where you will and speak to me.

Penelope's weaving trick

2.96–111
‘Warriors, my sweethearts,
good Odysseus is dead, and you are impatient
for marriage. You must wait until I have completed
my work, for I will not leave undone the spinning
of a burial robe for warrior Laertes,
to take with him when fate brings him long-lying death,
so that there shall be no Achaean women displeased,
were he who won so much to lie without a shroud.’
So our resolute hearts put our faith in her words,
and day by day she wove her great web at her loom.
But at night she would have torches put beside her
and she would unravel it. This art escaped detection
for three years, and she misled the Achaean men:
but as the seasons circled round and year four came,
one among her women told us everything,
and we caught her undoing the knit. So we forced her
to finish: like it or not.

Calypso's double standard

5.118–131
“You gods! You’re cruel, but most of all sick with envy,
and worse in that way than all mortal men and beasts!
You hate seeing me lying openly with men:
goddesses aren’t allowed to taste their passion in bed!
So when Eos took Orion in her rosy fingers,
you gods, who sit ever at ease, resented her,
til Artemis, that virgin hunter of wild beasts,
that wholesome prudish virgin showering arrows
in forests, sent her shafts into him, pinning him
to a forever death. And when Demeter
of the Furrows burned for warrior Iasion,
and lay with him in love in a thrice-ploughed place,
Zeus soon heard of it, and threw his flaming thunderbolt
and killed the man. Now I am envied! ὢ πόποι!
—because a mortal man sleeps with me. I saw him
alone in the sea, floating on ship-timber (a keel)
and I saved him:

Weeping on Calypso's shore

5.151–159
She found him sitting by the sea with eyes leaking
tears: for his one life was flowing away:
and he sighed sadly for home. The nymph had saved him
from the misty sea, but she no longer pleased him.
Her spells compelled him to sleep beside her at night:
not willingly would he lie with the willing nymph
in her hollow cave: and by day he sat watching
the restless sea from the rocks and sands of the shore,
and he sighed with many heartbreaking groans and griefs,
and through his tears he watched the moving waves.

Nausicaa finds Odysseus

6.127–141
Odysseus slid out from under the bushes.
Reaching up into the branches overhead he broke off
a leafy branch with his strong hand: and he held it
before him, to cover himself, and moved forward
with eyes like a mountain-haunting lion trusting
in his strength who moves through the wind and rain with eyes
blazing fiercely: and goes in among the cattle,
or the sheep, or the light-leaping deer: goaded by
his belly. Just so did he seem to the fair women
as he stepped out before them: for he was in great
need. And they saw him: terrible to look upon:
spoiled all over with dirt and salt-water mixed:
the women fled in terror, one up the riverbank,
one down: but the daughter of Alcinous stood her ground:
for Athena placed courage in her heart, and took fear
from her joints.

War-widow simile

8.521–532
This song the poet of many visions sang.
And Odysseus was overcome: many tears
streamed down his face from his far-away eyes.
Such a weeping recalled the sight of a woman
who, wailing, drops to her beloved husband,
who has fallen before the eyes of his people
and city, after fighting against the cruel day
to protect his city, and his children: and as
she sees him gasping, and struggling to resist death,
which is coming, she embraces him and shrieks high:
while the enemy batters her back and shoulders
with the spear’s wooden shaft: and as she is taken
away to a lifetime of servitude and sorrow,
her face is most pitifully consumed with grief.
So Odysseus’ pitiful sorrow fell
in drops from beneath his brows,

Cyclops eats the men

9.287–299
I said this, but he
did not answer me. Instead, he flung out his arm
and grabbed two of my men at once and smashed them
—helpless as puppies—against the ground. Their brains gushed
out of their cracked heads and soaked into the soil.
He tore off all their limbs, and prepared his supper,
then ate everything, like a lion in the wild,
flesh and entrails, leaving nothing behind.
Hearing the crunch of the bones we sent up a cry
to Zeus, and lifted our hands; and we felt helpless.
Finally, when the Cyclops had filled his huge belly
with human flesh, and had washed it all down with milk,
he lay down in his cave in the midst of his sheep,
and fell asleep.

The Nobody trick

9.364–371
‘Cyclops, you ask me my famous name: and now I
shall tell you: and give us a guest-present as you
have promised. My name is No-Man. To my mother
and father and to all others I have always
been No-Man.’
So I spoke, and he straightaway
answered with pitiless heart:
‘No-Man, I’ll eat all of your friends first, and you
I will eat last: and this shall be your “guest-present”.’

Circe recognizes Odysseus

10.325–336
‘Who are you? Where do you come from? What men?
What father? My charm has not enchanted you—
I’m amazed! No other man has resisted
my ϕάρμακον once it has passed through his lips.
But will you stay unseduced in your mind and breast?
You are Odysseus the subtle-thoughted.
Long ago Hermes the Busy One told me you’d
come to me on your swift black ship on your return
from Troy. Come now! Put your sword in its sheath,
and let us lie upon my bed in love and trust.’

Anticlea's shade

11.204–215
So she spoke, and I wondered over it; and reached
out to embrace the shadow of my mother.
Three times I reached out for my mother. Three times her
shadow fled from my touch, escaping like a light
in a dream. Three times I felt a piercing sorrow.
And then I spoke:
‘Mother, why do you slip out of the reach of my
arms? I am eager to embrace you. Even in
Hades we may put our arms around each other
and find comfort—in weeping. Or is this only
a game to awful Persephone, to make me
grieve all the more?’

Achilles in the underworld

11.488–501
‘No! Do not speak consolingly of death with me,
bright Odysseus. I would rather be a slave
among the living than king of the dead.’
So he said.
And so that would be his final answer on that:
the dead know one thing: it’s better to be alive.
Then he continued to speak:
‘But come now! Tell me of that noble son of mine.
Did he follow his father to the war, and fight
at the front, or did he not? And tell me of my
father Peleus, if you’ve heard anything. Does
he still hold honour among my raging Myrmidons,
or do men esteem him lightly now in Hellas
and Phthia, now that age hobbles his arms and legs?
I cannot help him there in the light of the sun,
with the strength I enjoyed at lofty Troy, when I
cut down dead the best of their men, in defence
of all the Argives around me.

The Sirens' song

12.184–192
“O loveliest mortal Odysseus,
why not turn your ship in, so that we two
may say something softly into your ear,
and you will hear our song. Here, no mortal
sails us by without feeling our breath
bringing you honey-sweet song from our lips.
We know the satisfaction you shall feel
after us, as you ride to your home’s shores.
We know of the toil at lofty Troy,
all that loss at the nod of the highest.
We know pleasing words that nourish the earth,
the gods, and those moving without footstep.
So, loveliest mortal Odysseus,
why not turn your ship in, and hear our song?”

Hyperion's cattle

12.341–352
No way to any death is pleasant to imagine,
but to die of hunger is the worst way to die.
So Come On Then! We’ll take the best of the cattle
and offer sacrifice to the gods in heaven.
And when we return to the land of our fathers,
our own Ithaca, right away we’ll build a fine
temple to Helios and fill it with fine gifts.
On the other hand, if he gets angry at us
for eating his hallowed cattle and destroys us,
while the other gods watch because they couldn’t
care less, I’d prefer a quick death of a throat full
of water, rather than wasting away slowly
on this lonely island.’

Argos recognizes Odysseus

17.324–328
Thus he answered him, then went on into the house,
and joined the crowd of horrible people in the halls.
And Argos, now that he had seen Odysseus
his master one more time, in the twentieth year,
let black death take hold of him, and his spirit ran away.

Sleepless Odysseus

20.25–34
Just as the hand of a man turns round his food
in the fire, stuffed with fat and blood, turning it
this way and that, wanting it roasted and ready
to eat, so Odysseus tossed this way and that
as he wondered how to kill those shameless worthies.
How can one man put his hands on the many?
Athena then stepped down from high in woman’s shape
and face. And Odysseus saw her standing in the darkness.
And he heard her speak:
“Why,” she asked him, “are you awake? Fate is spinning
itself out, as it will.

Stringing the bow

21.404–412
Meanwhile Odysseus πολύμητις had bow in hand,
and just as a poet experienced in lyre and song
casually tightens a peg around a string, just so did he
casually tighten the sinew at both ends of the bow.
Then, with the bow in his right hand, Odysseus tried the string,
and at his touch the string sang with the sweet voice of a songbird.

Odysseus reveals himself

22.1–8
Odysseus sprang out of his rags, and landed
by the brightly shining door. Then, in one movement
he grabbed the quiver and spilled out the arrows
before him at his feet; and said to the nobles:
“This contest is at its end. Let us now see if
I hit another mark, which no man has yet done,
and take the victory destined me by Apollo.”

The disloyal maids

22.465–474
So said Telemachus, who went for some cable,
the kind used as stern-cable for a dark-prowed ship,
and roped it up and around the domed building,
just high enough so that the dangling women’s feet
would not touch ground. And just as wide-winged thrushes,
or doves, seeking rest in thicket or bush, fly into
a net, and hateful is the bed that welcomes them:
so each woman, one by one, felt the noose tighten
round her neck, and felt the most miserable death.
They struggled and gasped for a bit, but not too long.

The olive-tree bed

23.181–190
Thus spoke Penelope, to provoke her husband,
and her husband was provoked. So Odysseus
spoke out in anger to his careful-minded wife:
“Woman, those were very heart-wringing words you spoke!
Has someone upset my bed? Must be a very
experienced man to have easily set it
in some other place! No man living has the strength
to move my bed from its spot, no matter how young
and strong—because this bed provides the ‘private sign’
you require. I built that bed, and no one else.

Shipwrecked sailor simile

23.233–241
As welcome as the sight of land to the swimmer
buoyant on the swells of the grey sea waves,
after Poseidon has shattered his ship,
after first thrashing it with wind and wave
for awhile; and leaves the salt water surface
sustaining a rabble of floating dead bodies,
and only few swimmers rise up as survivors
out of the ancient grey sea, and step upon shore,
and overcome their evil situation;
just so was the welcome relief shared by husband
and wife. As her slender arms clung to his neck
she looked into his eyes and would not let go.