Hermes strapped the beautiful sandals onto his feet, Immortal, made of gold, which bore him across the wet seas And endless expanses of land as swift as the breath of the wind. He took along the wand with which he lulls to sleep the eyes Of any man he pleases—or awakens those who are sleeping. Holding it in his hands, mighty Argos-Slayer flew off.               Swooping down, he set foot on Pieria; then he plunged into the sea And skimmed along the breakers like nothing so much as a tern, Which drenches its thick plumage in the brine as it hunts for fish Down through the troughs of the breakers on the restless wastes of the sea. That is how Hermes looked as he darted through wave after wave. When he reached the island at last—it lies off at a great distance— He emerged from the violet-dark sea and then made his way onto Dry land, until he reached an enormous cave where the nymph Of the beautiful braids had her dwelling. There, inside, he found her. An enormous fire was burning upon the hearth. The aroma Of blazing splits of wood⁠—cedar, juniper— Drifted all over the isle while she lifted her lovely voice In song and wove back and forth at her loom with a golden shuttle. A luxuriant growth of trees spread out all around the cave, Alder and black poplar and sweet-smelling cypress as well, And the birds inside them were sleeping, their wings outstretched, Little horned owls and hawks, as well as cormorants, Their chattering tongues stretched out—birds who work the sea. Round about the mouth of the hollow cave, a vine Had been trained to climb; now it flourished, bursting with clusters of grapes. Four springs, all in a row, flowed with the clearest water, Their streams running side by side, then turning this way and that. All around were velvety meadows where violets and bay grass were growing Lushly. Even a god who chanced upon this scene Would marvel at the sight, pleasure filling his mind. The Guide, Slayer of Argos, stood marveling at the sight. But when he’d marveled at it all and gazed to his heart’s content Straightaway he entered the cave’s wide mouth. As he stood before her, Kalypso, that radiant goddess, did not fail to recognize him. For a god will never fail to recognize another Immortal—not even one who dwells far away from the others. Hermes did not find great-hearted Odysseus inside: No, he was sitting by the shore and lamenting, as so often before, Weeping and moaning and tearing his heart to shreds in despair. At the restless wastes of the sea he kept staring, the tears pouring down. Kalypso, that radiant goddess, now began to question Hermes After settling him in a chair that shone with a brilliant gleam.