
His day of return is lost
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εἰ κεῖνόν γʼ Ἰθάκηνδε ἰδοίατο νοστήσαντα, πάντες κʼ ἀρησαίατʼ ἐλαφρότεροι πόδας εἶναι ἢ ἀφνειότεροι χρυσοῖό τε ἐσθῆτός τε. νῦν δʼ ὁ μὲν ὣς ἀπόλωλε κακὸν μόρον, οὐδέ τις ἡμῖν θαλπωρή, εἴ πέρ τις ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων φῇσιν ἐλεύσεσθαι· τοῦ δʼ ὤλετο νόστιμον ἦμαρ.
If they saw him returned to Ithaca, they would all pray to be swifter of foot than richer in gold and raiment. But now he has perished by an evil fate, and no comfort is left for us, even if some man of those on earth says he will come; his day of return is lost.
Telemachus finishes the thought: if his father were only seen coming home, these same men would trade all their wealth to be quicker on their feet in flight. But he counts him dead, and says no comfort is left, whatever anyone claims.
The bitterness turns sharp and then breaks. First a grim joke: if Odysseus ever walked back in, these swaggering suitors would give up all their gold to have faster feet — to run. Telemachus can picture his father scattering them, even as he insists it will never happen.
Then the joke collapses into grief. He counts Odysseus dead ‘by an evil fate,’ and refuses even the rumors of return that must already reach the house: no comfort is left, whatever anyone says. The phrase νόστιμον ἦμαρ, ‘day of return,’ is the poem's key word for homecoming — the very thing the Odyssey exists to grant — and Telemachus, who cannot see the plot he is inside, pronounces it lost.
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