Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
“We came to the island of Aeolia, where Aeolus son of Hippotas lived, dear to the immortal gods, on a floating island. All around it runs a wall of bronze, unbreakable, and a sheer cliff of rock rises up. Twelve children were born to him in his halls, six daughters and six sons in the bloom of youth, and he gave his daughters to his sons to be their wives. They feast forever beside their dear father and honored mother, with countless good things laid out before them, and the fragrant house echoes all through the day, while at night they sleep beside their honored wives, on blankets and on corded bedsteads.
“We came to their city and their fine halls, and for a whole month he entertained me and asked about everything — Troy, the ships of the Argives, and the Achaeans' journey home — and I told him all of it in order, just as it happened. But when I in turn asked to leave and begged him to send me on my way, he did not refuse, but made ready my passage. He gave me a sack made from the hide of an ox nine years old, flayed whole, and in it he bound the paths of the roaring winds, for the son of Cronus had made him keeper of the winds, to still them or rouse them, whichever he wished. He tied the sack in my hollow ship with a bright silver cord, so that not even a breath could slip out, and he sent forth a breeze of the West Wind to blow for me, to carry my ships and the men in them home. But it was not to be — our own folly destroyed us.
“For nine days alike we sailed, night and day, and on the tenth our native land at last came into view, and we could see men tending fires, we were so close. But then sweet sleep came over me, worn out as I was — for I had held the steering oar the whole time myself, giving it to none of my crew, so that we might reach our homeland sooner. And my men began talking among themselves, saying that I was bringing home gold and silver, gifts from great-hearted Aeolus son of Hippotas. And this is what one of them would say, glancing at the man beside him:
“‘Look how this man is loved and honored by everyone, in whatever city or land he comes to! Much fine plunder he carries off from Troy as his share, while we, who made the very same journey, are going home with empty hands. And now Aeolus has given him these gifts, out of friendship and favor. Come, let us quickly see what is in here, how much gold and silver is in this sack.’
“So they said, and the men's foolish counsel won out. They loosed the sack, and all the winds burst out at once. The storm snatched my men up in an instant and swept them out to sea, weeping, away from their own native land. But I, waking, turned it over in my noble heart, whether to fling myself from the ship and die in the sea, or to endure it in silence and remain among the living. I endured it, and stayed, and hid myself, lying down in the ship, while the ships were driven by the wicked blast of wind back to the island of Aeolia, and my men groaned aloud.
“There we went ashore and drew water, and my men quickly took their meal beside the swift ships. When we had eaten our fill of food and drink, I took a herald and one companion with me and went to the famous halls of Aeolus. I found him feasting there beside his wife and children. We came to the house and sat down at the threshold, by the doorposts, and they were amazed in their hearts and asked us:
“‘How is it you have come back, Odysseus? What evil spirit assailed you? We sent you off with all care, so that you might reach your homeland, your house, wherever your heart desired.’
“So they spoke, and I answered them with a grieving heart: ‘My wretched crew undid me — they, and cruel sleep besides. But make it right, friends, for you have the power.’
“So I said, trying to win them with gentle words, but they fell silent. And their father answered me: ‘Get off this island at once, most vile of living men! It is not right for me to help or send on his way any man hated by the blessed gods. Get out — since you come here hated by the gods.’
“So he said, and drove me from his house, groaning heavily. From there we sailed on, our hearts heavy with grief. The men's spirits wore thin under the grinding of the oars, through our own folly, for no longer did any friendly wind appear to speed us on. For six days alike we sailed, night and day, and on the seventh we reached the steep citadel of Lamus, Telepylus of the Laestrygonians, where herdsman calls to herdsman as one drives his flock in and the other drives his out, and the one just going to sleep could answer the one just waking — so close together lie the paths of night and day.
“When we entered that famous harbor, ringed all about by an unbroken wall of sheer rock, with headlands jutting out facing each other at the harbor's mouth, leaving only a narrow entrance, my men all steered their curved ships inside and moored them close together within the hollow harbor, for no wave ever rose there, great or small, but a pale calm lay over it all. I alone held my black ship outside, at the very edge, tying her cables to the rock, and I climbed up to a rocky lookout point. From there no work of oxen or of men could be seen, only smoke rising up from the earth in the distance.
“So I sent some of my men ahead to find out what sort of men lived there and ate bread on that land, choosing two, with a herald as a third companion. They set off and found a smooth road, the one by which wagons hauled timber down from the high mountains into the town, and they met a girl drawing water in front of the city, the strong daughter of Antiphates the Laestrygonian. She had come down to the clear-flowing spring Artacia, from which the people carried water up to the town. My men came up to her and asked who was king of this people and ruled over them,
and she at once pointed out her father's high-roofed house. They went in through the famous halls and found his wife there, huge as a mountain peak, and the sight of her filled them with horror. At once she called her husband, glorious Antiphates, in from the assembly, and he set about their grim destruction — seizing one of my men on the spot, he made him his meal. The other two sprang up and fled back to the ships. But Antiphates raised the alarm through the town, and hearing it, the mighty Laestrygonians came swarming from every side, thousands of them, not like men but like giants.
“They hurled boulders down from the cliffs, each one a load for a man to carry, and at once a terrible din arose along the ships, of men dying and ships being smashed to pieces, while my crew were speared like fish and carried off for a grim meal. While they were slaughtering my men within that deep harbor, I drew the sharp sword from beside my thigh and cut the cables of my dark-prowed ship, and quickly urged my men to fall to the oars, so that we might escape destruction. All of them together drove the sea with their oars, in terror of death.
“Gladly did my ship escape out to open water, away from the overhanging cliffs — but all the others were destroyed there together. From there we sailed on, our hearts heavy with grief, glad to have escaped death, but mourning our dear companions lost. We came to the island of Aeaea, where lived Circe of the lovely braids, a dread goddess with a human voice, sister of Aeetes whose thoughts bring ruin. Both were children of Helios, who gives light to mortals, and of their mother Perse, whom Ocean bore as his daughter. There we brought our ship in silence to the shore, into a sheltered harbor, and some god guided us in.
“There we went ashore and lay for two days and two nights, eating our hearts out with weariness and grief. But when fair-haired Dawn brought on the third day, I took my spear and my sharp sword and went up quickly from the ship to a place with a wide view, hoping to see the works of men and hear some human voice. I climbed up to a rocky lookout point, and there I made out smoke rising from the broad earth, from within Circe's halls, through the thick brush and woodland.
“Then I debated in my mind and heart whether to go and find out, now that I had seen the fiery smoke, and as I turned it over, this seemed the better plan — to go first to the swift ship and the shore of the sea, give my men their meal, and then send them to find out. But when I had come close to my curved ship, some god took pity on me, alone as I was, and sent a great antlered stag right across my path. He was coming down from his pasture in the woods to the river to drink, for the sun's heat had worn on him.
“As he came out I struck him in the middle of the back, along the spine, and my bronze spear went clean through him. He fell in the dust with a cry, and his spirit flew away. I set my foot on him and drew the bronze spear out of the wound, then laid it down on the ground and left it there, while I pulled up twigs and withies and, twisting together a rope about a fathom long, well-plaited at both ends, I bound together the feet of the huge beast, and slung him across my shoulders and made my way to the black ship, leaning on my spear, since it was not possible to carry him on one shoulder with a single hand — the beast was far too great.
“I threw him down before the ship, and roused my men with gentle words, standing beside each man in turn: ‘Friends, grieved as we are, we shall not go down yet to the house of Hades before our fated day arrives. Come — as long as there is food and drink aboard the swift ship, let us remember to eat, and not waste away from hunger.’
“So I spoke, and they quickly obeyed my words. Uncovering their faces there on the shore of the barren sea, they marveled at the stag, for he was indeed a huge beast. When they had feasted their eyes looking on him, they washed their hands and prepared a splendid feast. So then, the whole day long until the sun went down, we sat feasting on abundant meat and sweet wine. And when the sun set and darkness came on, we lay down to sleep on the seashore.
“When early Dawn appeared with her rosy fingers, I called an assembly and spoke among them all: ‘Listen to my words, friends, though you have suffered much. We do not know where the darkness lies, or where the dawn, or where the sun that gives light to mortals goes beneath the earth, or where it rises again. Let us think quickly whether there is still any plan left — I myself do not think there is one.
“‘For I climbed to a rocky lookout point and saw that this is an island, ringed all about by the boundless sea, and it lies low, and I made out smoke rising in its midst, through the thick brush and woodland.’
“So I spoke, and their hearts were broken within them, remembering the deeds of Antiphates the Laestrygonian and the violence of the great-hearted, man-eating Cyclops, and they wept loud and long, shedding heavy tears — but no good came of their weeping.
“Then I divided all my well-greaved companions into two groups and set a leader over each; I led the one, and godlike Eurylochus the other. We quickly shook the lots in a bronze helmet, and the lot of great-hearted Eurylochus leapt out. He set off, and with him twenty-two companions, weeping, while we who were left behind wept and groaned as well.
“In a glade they found Circe's house, built of polished stone, in an open, commanding spot. All around it were mountain wolves and lions, whom Circe herself had bewitched, giving them evil drugs. They did not rush at my men, but rose up and fawned around them, wagging their long tails — just as dogs fawn around their master when he comes home from a feast, for he always brings them scraps to soothe their hearts — so the strong-clawed wolves and lions fawned around my men, who were terrified when they saw those fearsome creatures.
“They stood there in the porch of the goddess with the lovely braids, and heard Circe within, singing in a beautiful voice as she moved back and forth before a great imperishable loom, weaving work of the kind goddesses make — fine, and full of grace, and radiant. Then Polites, a leader of men, the dearest and most trusted of my companions, spoke first among them: ‘Friends, someone inside is singing beautifully as she moves before a great loom, and the whole floor echoes with it — a goddess, or a woman. Let us call out to her at once.’
“So he spoke, and they called out, shouting to her. She came out at once and opened the shining doors and invited them in, and all of them, in their innocence, followed her — all but Eurylochus, who stayed behind, suspecting a trap. She led them in and seated them on chairs and benches, and mixed for them cheese, barley meal, and pale honey with Pramnian wine, but into the food she stirred wicked drugs, so that they would forget their native land completely. When she had given it to them and they had drunk it down, she struck them at once with her wand and shut them up in the pigsties.
“They took on the heads and voices and bristles and bodies of pigs, but their minds remained as they had been before. So they were penned there weeping, and Circe threw them acorns and mast and cornel-cherries to eat, the fodder that pigs who bed on the ground always feed on.
“Eurylochus came running back at once to the swift black ship to bring word of his companions and their bitter fate. He was not able to speak a single word, hard as he tried, so stricken was his heart with great grief; his eyes filled with tears, and his spirit yearned to weep. But when we all pressed him with questions in our amazement, then he told us of the destruction of the rest of our companions:
“‘We went, as you ordered, glorious Odysseus, through the thicket, and in a glade we found a fine house, built of polished stone, in an open, commanding spot. There someone was moving before a great loom, singing clearly — a goddess, or a woman — and my men called out to her. She came out at once and opened the shining doors and invited them in, and all of them, in their innocence, followed her — but I stayed behind, suspecting a trap. And they vanished, all together, and not one of them appeared again, though I sat there watching for a long time.’
“So he spoke, and I slung my great bronze sword with its silver studs over my shoulders, and my bow as well, and told him to lead me back the same way. But he clasped both my knees with his hands and begged me, and weeping, spoke winged words to me: ‘Do not lead me there against my will, my lord, but leave me here. I know that you will not return yourself, nor bring back any of your men. Let us flee at once with those we still have — we may yet escape the evil day.’
“So he spoke, and I answered him: ‘Eurylochus, stay right here then, in this place, eating and drinking beside the hollow black ship. But I will go — hard necessity drives me on.’
“So saying, I went up from the ship and the sea. But as I made my way up through the sacred glades, just as I was about to reach the great house of Circe of the many drugs, Hermes of the golden wand met me on the path to the house, in the likeness of a young man just growing his first beard, in the fairest bloom of youth. He took my hand and spoke to me, saying:
“‘Where are you going now, unlucky man, alone through these hills, not knowing the land? Your companions are shut up in Circe's house, penned like pigs in close pens. Do you come to set them free? I tell you, you yourself will not return, but will stay there with the rest. But come, I will free you from harm and save you. Here, take this good herb and go to Circe's house with it — it will keep the evil day from your head. I will tell you all of Circe's deadly schemes. She will make you a potion and put drugs in the food.
“‘But even so she will not be able to enchant you, for the good herb I give you will not allow it — I will tell you everything. When Circe strikes you with her long wand, then draw the sharp sword from beside your thigh and rush at Circe as though you meant to kill her. She will shrink back in fear and invite you to her bed. At that point do not refuse the goddess's bed, so that she may free your companions and take care of you as well — but bid her swear the great oath of the blessed gods, that she is planning no other harm against you,'
'don't hurt yourself so, poor man, wandering these rough hills alone, ignorant of the country. Your friends are penned up in Circe's house like pigs, shut in their tight sties. Have you come to set them free? I tell you, you yourself will never come home, but will stay there with the rest. Still, listen — I will free you from this trouble and keep you safe. Here, take this good herb and go into Circe's hall; it will keep the fatal day away from you. And I will tell you all her deadly schemes. She will mix you a potion and drop drugs into the food. Even so she will not be able to enchant you, for the good herb I give you will not allow it. I will tell you everything. When Circe strikes you with her long wand, then draw the sharp sword from beside your thigh and rush at her as if you meant to kill her. She will shrink back in fear and invite you to her bed. Do not then refuse the goddess's bed, so that she will free your companions and take care of you as well. But make her swear the great oath of the blessed gods, that she will plot no other harm against you, or else, once you are stripped of your weapons, she may make you weak and unmanned.'
So spoke the Slayer of Argus, and gave me the herb, pulling it from the ground and showing me its nature. Its root was black, its flower like milk; the gods call it moly. It is hard for mortal men to dig, but the gods can do all things. Then Hermes went off toward high Olympus, across the wooded island, and I went on to Circe's house, my heart churning with many thoughts as I walked. I stopped at the gates of the fair-haired goddess; there I stood and called out, and the goddess heard my voice. She came out at once, opened the shining doors, and called me in; and I followed her, my heart heavy. She led me in and sat me on a silver-studded chair, a fine carved one, with a footstool beneath my feet. She mixed a potion in a golden cup for me to drink, and slipped a drug into it, with evil in her mind. When she had given it to me and I had drunk it down, and it did not enchant me, she struck me with her wand and spoke: 'Now go to the pigsty and lie down with the rest of your friends.'
So she spoke, but I drew the sharp sword from beside my thigh and rushed at Circe as if I meant to kill her. She screamed aloud, ran under my sword, threw her arms around my knees, and spoke to me in tears, winged words: 'Who are you, and where from among men? Where is your city, where your parents? I am amazed that you drank this drug and were not enchanted — no other man has ever withstood this drug once he drank it and it passed the barrier of his teeth. There is a mind in your chest that cannot be charmed. You must be Odysseus, the man of many turns, whom the Slayer of Argus with the golden wand always told me would come here, sailing home from Troy in his swift black ship. Come, sheathe your sword, and let us two go up into my bed, so that lying together in love we may come to trust one another.'
So she spoke, and I answered her: 'Circe, how can you ask me to be gentle with you, when you turned my companions into pigs in your hall, and now, keeping me here, you speak with treachery in your heart and tell me to go up to your chamber and your bed, only so that when I am stripped and unarmed you may make me weak and unmanned? I have no wish to climb into your bed unless you are willing, goddess, to swear a great oath that you will plot no other harm against me.' So I spoke, and she at once swore the oath as I asked. When she had sworn it and finished the oath, then I went up into Circe's beautiful bed. Meanwhile her four handmaids were busy about the house, the servants who attend her hall. They are born of the springs, the groves, and the sacred rivers that flow out to the sea. One of them threw fine purple coverlets over the chairs, and beneath them spread linen. Another drew up silver tables before the chairs and set golden baskets on them. A third mixed sweet, honeyed wine in a silver bowl and set out golden cups. A fourth brought water and lit a great fire beneath a large tripod, and the water grew warm. When the water boiled in the shining bronze, she led me to a bath and washed me from the great tripod, mixing the water to a pleasant warmth, pouring it over my head and shoulders until she had washed the heart-consuming weariness from my limbs. When she had bathed me and rubbed me with rich oil, she threw a fine cloak and tunic around me, led me in, and sat me on a silver-studded chair, a fine carved one, with a footstool beneath my feet. A handmaid brought water in a beautiful golden pitcher and poured it over a silver basin for me to wash my hands, and drew up a polished table beside me. A grave housekeeper brought bread and set it before me, adding many good things from her stores, and urged me to eat. But it did not please my heart; I sat there thinking of other things, my mind foreboding evil. When Circe saw me sitting there, not reaching for the food, weighed down by heavy grief, she came close and spoke to me, winged words: 'Why do you sit like this, Odysseus, like a man struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Do you suspect some other trick? You need not
be afraid, for I have already sworn you a strong oath.' So she spoke, and I answered her: 'Circe, what man of any decency could bear to taste food and drink before he had freed his companions and seen them with his own eyes? If you truly want me, in good will, to eat and drink, then set them free, so that I may see my loyal companions with my own eyes.' So I spoke, and Circe went out through the hall with her wand in hand, opened the door of the sty, and drove them out, looking like nine-year-old boars.
They stood there before her, and she went among them, smearing each one with another drug. From their limbs the bristles fell away — the bristles that the deadly drug she had given them before had grown — and they became men again, younger than they had been, and far more handsome and taller to look at. They knew me, and each one seized my hands. A longing for tears rose in all of them, and the house rang terribly around us; even the goddess herself pitied them. Then the bright goddess came close and said to me: 'Son of Laertes, born of the gods, resourceful Odysseus, go now to your swift ship and the shore of the sea. First of all, haul the ship up onto dry land, and store your goods and all your gear in the caves. Then come back yourself, and bring your loyal companions.' So she spoke, and my proud heart agreed. I went down to the swift ship and the shore of the sea, and there I found my loyal companions on the swift ship, weeping bitterly, shedding heavy tears. As when calves penned in a farmyard, seeing the cows coming home from pasture once they are full of grass, all leap up together to meet them, and the pens can no longer hold them, but they run bellowing round their mothers without pause — so my men, when they saw me with their own eyes, poured out in tears around me; their hearts felt exactly as if they had reached their own country, the very city of rugged Ithaca where they were born and raised. And weeping they spoke to me, winged words: 'Godsent one, we rejoice at your return as much as if we had come home to Ithaca itself, our own country.
But come, tell us of the deaths of our other companions.' So they spoke, and I answered with gentle words: 'First let us haul the ship up onto dry land, and store our goods and all our gear in the caves. Then hurry, all of you, and come with me, so that you may see your companions eating and drinking in Circe's sacred halls, for they have food enough and to spare.' So I spoke, and they quickly obeyed my words. Only Eurylochus tried to hold back all the rest, and he spoke to them, winged words:
'Poor fools, where are we going? Why do you long for these troubles — to go down into Circe's hall, where she will turn us all into pigs, or wolves, or lions, forced to guard her great house against our will, just as the Cyclops did when our companions went into his fold and bold Odysseus went with them — for it was through this man's recklessness that they too died.' So he spoke, and I turned it over in my mind, wondering whether to draw the long sharp sword from beside my thick thigh and strike off his head, letting it fall to the ground, close kinsman of mine though he was — but my companions held me back on every side with soothing words:
'Godsent one, let us leave this man here, if you wish, to stay by the ship and guard it; but lead the rest of us to Circe's sacred halls.' So saying, they went up from the ship and the sea. Nor did Eurylochus stay behind by the hollow ship; he followed too, for he feared my fierce rebuke. Meanwhile Circe, in her halls, had kindly bathed the rest of my companions and rubbed them with rich oil, and thrown fine cloaks and tunics around them; and we found them all feasting well in the halls. When the men saw one another face to face and recognized each other, they wept and lamented, and the house rang with their groaning. Then the bright goddess came close and said to me: 'Son of Laertes, born of the gods, resourceful Odysseus, weep no more now; I myself know all you suffered on the fish-filled sea, and all the harm cruel men did you on land. But come, eat food and drink wine, until you find again in your hearts the spirit
you had when you first left your own country, rugged Ithaca. Now you are worn out and spiritless, always brooding on your hard wandering, and your hearts are never glad, since you have suffered so much.' So she spoke, and our proud hearts agreed. There we stayed day after day for a full year, feasting on abundant meat and sweet wine. But when a year had passed and the seasons turned, as the months waned and the long days ran their course, my loyal companions called me aside and said:
'Man, it is time now to remember your own country, if it is fated for you to be saved and reach your high-roofed house and your native land.' So they spoke, and my proud heart agreed. So all that day, until the sun went down, we sat feasting on abundant meat and sweet wine. When the sun set and darkness came on, the men lay down to sleep in the shadowy halls; but I went up into Circe's beautiful bed and begged her by her knees, and the goddess heard my voice, and I spoke to her, winged words: 'Circe, fulfill now the promise you made me, to send me home. My heart is eager to go now, and so are the hearts of my companions, who wear away my spirit with their grieving whenever you happen to be elsewhere.' So I spoke, and the bright goddess answered at once: 'Son of Laertes, born of the gods, resourceful Odysseus, stay no longer in my house against your will. But first there is another journey you must complete and reach — you must go to the house of Hades and dread Persephone,
to consult the spirit of Theban Tiresias, the blind seer, whose mind remains steadfast. To him alone, even in death, Persephone has granted understanding; the rest are mere flitting shadows.' So she spoke, and my heart broke within me. I wept, sitting on the bed, and my spirit no longer wished to live and look upon the light of the sun. But when I had had my fill of weeping and writhing, I answered her and said: 'Circe, who will guide me on this journey? No one has ever yet reached Hades in a black ship.'
So I spoke, and the bright goddess answered at once: 'Son of Laertes, born of the gods, resourceful Odysseus, do not trouble yourself about lacking a guide for your ship. Just set up the mast, spread the white sail, and sit; the breath of the North Wind will carry it for you. When you have sailed in your ship across the stream of Ocean, you will find a low shore and the groves of Persephone, tall poplars and willows that shed their fruit before it ripens. Beach your ship there by the deep-eddying Ocean,
and go yourself down into the dank house of Hades. There the Pyriphlegethon and the Cocytus, a branch of the water of the Styx, flow into the Acheron, and there is a rock where the two thundering rivers meet. There, hero, draw near as I tell you, and dig a pit about a forearm's length in each direction, and around it pour libations to all the dead — first with honeyed milk, then with sweet wine, and third with water, sprinkling white barley meal over it. Then pray earnestly to the powerless heads of the dead,
promising that when you reach Ithaca you will sacrifice in your halls a barren cow, the best you have, and fill a pyre with fine gifts, and that to Tiresias alone you will offer separately a ram, wholly black, the finest of your flocks. When with prayers you have entreated the glorious tribes of the dead, then sacrifice a ram and a black ewe, turning them toward Erebus, but yourself turn away, facing the flowing river. There many spirits of the dead who have perished will come. Then at once call your companions and command them
to flay and burn the sheep that lie there slaughtered by the pitiless bronze, and pray to the gods, to mighty Hades and dread Persephone. Draw your own sharp sword from beside your thigh and sit there, and do not let the powerless heads of the dead come near the blood until you have questioned Tiresias. Then the seer will soon come to you, leader of men, and tell you the way, the stages of your journey, and how you will cross the fish-filled sea to reach home.' So she spoke, and at once golden-throned Dawn appeared.
She dressed me in a cloak and tunic, and the nymph herself put on a great silver-white robe, fine and graceful, bound a beautiful golden belt about her waist, and put a veil upon her head. Then I went through the house rousing my companions with gentle words, standing by each man in turn: 'No longer lie there sleeping in sweet slumber — let us go, for now the queenly Circe has shown me the way.' So I spoke, and their proud hearts agreed. But not even from there did I lead my companions away unharmed.
There was a certain Elpenor, the youngest of us, not especially brave in war nor sound in his wits. He had lain down apart from his companions in Circe's sacred halls, seeking the cool air, heavy with wine. Hearing the noise and bustle of his comrades stirring, he leapt up suddenly, and forgot in his confusion to go back down by way of the long ladder, but fell straight off the roof; his neck was broken away from the spine, and his spirit went down to Hades. As the others set out, I spoke to them and said:
'No doubt you think we are on our way home now to our own dear country — but Circe has marked out another road for us, to the house of Hades and dread Persephone, to consult the spirit of Theban Tiresias.' So I spoke, and their hearts broke within them; they sat down right there, weeping and tearing their hair, but no good came of their mourning. While we walked, grieving, toward the swift ship and the shore of the sea, shedding heavy tears, Circe meanwhile went ahead of us to the black ship
and tied up a ram and a black ewe there, slipping past us easily; for who could see a god passing by, this way or that, unless the god wished it?