Natural Bridge, Bermudaca. 1901
I’ve begun an odyssey to read Homer’s ubiquitously sited and referenced The Odyssey.
I’m reading the translation by S. H. BUTCHER, M.A. who I enjoyed very much through his translation of the Illiad, which I never actually finished.
I’m looking forward to the travels and adventures of Odysseus. I got bored with all the war talk and sulking of Achillies and those guys.
Anyways, I had this idea that I could post a short portion of the text each week and we could read along together. I’ll try to keep it 300 words or so. This will be our first one.
You can download the whole book here. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1728
This is the poem at the beginning of the translation I’m reading. It made me want to go to the beach for some reason.
Read it really slow and out loud for the full effect!
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Poem by Andrew Lang
As one that for a weary space has lain
Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,
Where that Ææan isle forgets the main,
And only the low lutes of love complain,
And only shadows of wan lovers pine,
As such an one were glad to know the brine
Salt on his lips, and the large air again,
So gladly, from the songs of modern speech
Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free
Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,
And through the music of the languid hours
They hear like Ocean on a western beach
The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.