I am Odysseus, Laertes' son, known for my many clever tricks and lies. My fame extends to heaven, but I live in Ithaca, where shaking forest hides Mouth Neriton.
Six well-armed crew members of my crew died from each ship. The rest of us survived and escaped danger. We prepared to sail away with heavy hearts, relieved to be alive, but grieving for our friends. Before we launched the ships, we called aloud three times to each of our poor lost companions, slaughtered at the hands of the Cicones.
There we sailed: the gods were guiding us all through the darkness.
We are Greeks, come here from Troy. The winds have swept us off in all directions from our planned route back home. Zeus willed it so. We are proud to be the men of Agamemnon, the son of Atreus, whose fame is greatest under the sky, for sacking that vast city and killing many people. Now we beg you, as is norm for hosts and guests.
Strangers! Who are you! Where did you come from across the watery depths? Are you on business, or roaming around without a goal, like pirates, who risk their lives at sea to bring disaster to other people?
Hey, you, Cyclops! Idiot! The crew trapped in your cave did not belong to some poor weakling. Well, you had it coming! You had no shame at eating your own guests! So Zeus and other gods have paid you back.
Circe, fulfill the vow you made to me and send me home. My heart now longs to go. My men are also desperate to leave. Whenever you are absent, they exhaust me with constant lamentation.
We did as she had said. Then every day for a whole year we feasted there on meat and sweet strong wine.