drew you over the black earth
with their whirling wings, down from the sky
through the middle of the air,
and quickly they arrived. And you, O Blessed Goddess,
with a smile on your immortal face,
asked what was the matter now and why
had I called you again
and what I wanted most of all to happen,
me, with my crazy heart: “Who should I persuade this time
to lead you back to her love? Who is it, Sappho,
who has done you wrong?
For even if she runs away, soon she will pursue.
If she refuses gifts, she’ll be giving instead.
And if she won’t love, she will soon enough,
even against her will.”
So come to me now, free me from unbearable
pain. All my heart yearns to happen—
make it happen. You yourself,
be my ally.
2.
Come to me here from Crete to this holy
temple, to your delightful grove of apple
trees, where altars smoke
with frankincense.
Here cold water babbles through apple
branches, roses shadow all,
and from quivering leaves
a deep sleep falls.
Here too is a meadow for grazing horses
blossoming with spring flowers and breezes
blowing sweet like honey . . .
In this place you . . . taking, O Cypris,
gracefully into golden cups
nectar mingled with our festivities
pour now.
3.
. . . to give
. . . yet of the glorious
. . . of the beautiful and good
. . . pain
. . . blame
. . . swollen
. . . you have your fill, for
. . . not so
. . . is settled
. . . nor
. . . I understand
. . . of wickedness
. . . other
. . . minds
. . . blessed
4.
. . . heart
. . . completely
. . . I can
. . . would be for me
. . . to shine back
. . . face
. . . joined together
5.
. . . Nereids, grant that
my brother come back to me unharmed
and that all he wishes for in his heart
comes true.
And grant that he atone for all his past mistakes.
Make him a joy to his friends and a grief
to his enemies. And may no one bring us sorrow
ever again.
May he wish to bring honor
to his sister, but dismal grief . . .
. . . sorrowing before
. . . listening, millet seed
. . . of the citizens
. . . not again
. . . but you, Cypris
. . . putting aside evil
6.
Go . . .
so that we may see . . .
Lady . . .
of golden arms . . .
fate . . .
7.
of Doricha . . .
commands, for not . . .
arrogance . . .
for young men . . .
beloved . . .
8.
for you, Atthis . . .
9.
invites . . .
all not . . .
a feast . . .
for Hera . . .
12.
. . . thought
. . . barefoot
15.
. . . blessed
. . . that he atone for his past mistakes
. . . with fortune of the harbor
. . . Cypris, and may she find you very harsh.
And may she—that Doricha—not boast, saying
he came a second time
to her longed-for love.
16.
Some say an army of horsemen, others a host of infantry,
others a fleet of ships is the most beautiful thing
on the black earth. But I say
it’s whatever you love.
It’s perfectly easy to make this clear
to everyone. For she who surpassed
all in beauty—Helen—left behind
her most noble husband
and went sailing off to Troy,
giving no thought at all to her child
or dear parents, but . . .
led her astray.
. . . for
. . . lightly
. . . reminded me now of Anactoria
who is not here.
I would rather see her lovely walk
and her bright sparkling face
than the chariots of the Lydians
or infantry in arms.
. . . not possible to happen
. . . to pray to share
. . . unexpected
17.
Come close to me, I pray,
Lady Hera, and may your graceful form appear,
you to whom the sons of Atreus prayed,
those glorious kings,
after they had accomplished many great deeds,
first at Troy, then on the sea.
They came to this island, but they could not
complete their voyage home
until they called on you and Zeus the god of suppliants
and Thyone’s lovely child.
So now be kind and help me too,
as in ancient days.
Holy and beautiful . . .
virgin . . .
around . . .
to be . . .
to arrive . . .
18.
all . . .
to say . . .
my tongue . . .
to tell stories . . .
for a man . . .
greater . . .
19.
. . . waiting
. . . in sacrifices
. . . having good
. . . but going
. . . for we know
. . . of works
. . . after
. . . and toward
. . . says this
20.
. . . brightness and
. . . with good fortune
. . . to reach the harbor
. . . black earth
. . . sailors
. . . great gusts of wind
. . . on dry land
. . . sail
. . . the cargo
. . . since
. . . many
. . . tasks
. . . dry land
21.
. . . pity
. . . trembling
. . . my skin, old age now
. . . covers
. . . flies pursuing
. . . noble
. . . taking
. . . sing to us
of her with violets in her lap.
. . . most of all
. . . wanders
22.
a task . . .
face . . .
if not, winter . . .
painless . . .
. . . I bid you to sing
of Gongyla, Abanthis, taking up
your lyre, while again desire
flies around you,
beautiful. For her dress excited you
when you saw it, and I myself rejoice.
For the holy Cyprian herself once
blamed me
because I prayed . . .
this word . . .
I wish . . .
23.
. . . of love.
. . . for when I see you face to face
. . . even Hermione
. . . to compare you to golden-haired Helen
. . . among mortal women, know this
. . . you
could free me from all my cares
. . . on the riverbanks
. . . all through the night
24.
24A.
. . . you will remember,
. . . for we in our youth
did these things,
many, beautiful things.
24C.
. . . we live
. . . opposite
. . . daring
. . . human
24D.
. . . a small voice
25.
. . . left behind
. . . graceful woman
26.
. . . for those
I treat well hurt me
most of all.
. . . in vain
. . . you, I wish
. . . suffering
. . . but in my heart
. . . I know this
27.
. . . for once you were a child
. . . come sing these things
. . . talk to us, grant us
your favors.
For we are going to a wedding, as you
well know. But as quickly as possible,
send away the virgins.
May the gods have . . .
. . . a road to great Olympus
. . . for mortals
29.
29B.
. . . Lady
29C.
. . . robes
. . . necklaces
. . . for Gorgo
29H.
. . . for Gyrinno
30.
night . . .
virgins . . .
all night long . . .
might sing of the love between you and the bride
with violets in her lap.
But rise up! Call the young men
your own age, so that we may see
less sleep than the . . .
with a clear voice.
31.
He seems to me equal to the gods,
that man who sits opposite you
and listens near
to your sweet voice
and lovely laughter. My heart
begins to flutter in my chest.
When I look at you even for a moment
I can no longer speak.
My tongue fails and a subtle
fire races beneath my skin,
I see nothing with my eyes
and my ears hum.
Sweat pours from me and a trembling
seizes my whole body. I am greener
than grass and it seems I am a little short
of dying.
But all must be endured, for even a poor man . . .
32.
. . . who gave me honor by the gift
of their works
33.
Golden-crowned Aphrodite, if only I
could win this lot
34.
The stars around the beautiful moon
hide back their radiant form
when she in her fullness shines
over the earth.
35.
you either Cyprus or Paphos or Panormus
36.
I long for and seek after
37.
in my dripping pain . . .
May winds and sorrows carry off the one
blaming me
38.
you scorch us
39.
a many-colored leather sandal
covered her feet, a beautiful piece of work
from Lydia
40.
and I to you . . . of a white goat
41.
for you lovely ones my thoughts
do not change
42.
their hearts grew cold
and they folded their wings
43.
. . . disturbs the stillness
. . . distress, mind
. . . settles down
. . . but come, beloved ones
. . . for day is near
44.
Cyprus . . .
the herald came . . .
Idaeus, the swift messenger . . .
“. . . and the rest of Asia . . . undying glory.
Hector and his companions are bringing the lively-eyed,
graceful Andromache from holy Thebe and ever-flowing
Placia in their ships over the salty sea, along with many golden bracelets
and perfumed purple robes, beautifully-painted ornaments
and countless silver cups and ivory.”
So he spoke. Quickly Hector’s dear father rose up
and the news spread among his friends in the spacious city.
At once the sons of Ilus yoked mules to the
smooth-running carts, then the whole crowd
of women and maidens with . . . ankles climbed on board.
The daughters of Priam apart . . .
the young men yoked horses to chariots . . .
in great style . . .
charioteers . . .
. . . like the gods
. . . holy together
set out . . . to Ilium
the sweet-sounding flute and the cithara mingled
and the sound of castanets. Maidens sang a holy song
and a wondrous echo reached to the sky . . .
everywhere in the streets was . . .
mixing-bowls and drinking cups . . .
myrrh and cassia and frankincense mingled.
The older women cried out with joy
and all the men erupted in a high-pitched shout
calling on Paean, far-shooting god skilled with the lyre.
They sang in praise of god-like Hector and Andromache.
44Aa.
for golden-haired Phoebus whom the daughter of Coeus bore
after she lay with the son of Cronus, whose name is great.
But Artemis swore the great oath of the gods:
“By your head, I will always be a virgin
. . . hunting on the peaks of the mountains.
Come, grant me this for my sake.”
. . . and the father of the blessed gods nodded.
The gods call her the hunter, the shooter of deer,
. . . a great title.
. . . Love never approaches her
44Ab.
glorious of the Muses . . .
makes of the Graces . . .
slender . . .
anger not . . .
for mortals . . .
45.
. . . as long as you wish
46.
I will lay down my limbs
on a soft cushion . . .
47.
Love shook my heart
like a mountain wind falling on oaks.
48.
You came and I was longing for you.
You cooled my heart burning with desire.
49.
I loved you, Atthis, once long ago
You seemed to me a small child without grace
50.
For the man who is beautiful is beautiful in appearance,
but the man who is good will be beautiful indeed.
51.
I don’t know what I should do. There are two minds in me
52.
I do not expect to touch the sky
53.
Come, rosy-armed holy Graces, daughters of Zeus
54.
. . . who came from heaven wrapped in a purple cloak
55.
But when you die you will lie there and there will be no memory
of you nor longing for you after, for you have no share in the roses
of Pieria. But you will wander unseen in the house of Hades,
flying about among the shadowy dead.
56.
I don’t imagine that any girl who has looked on
the light of the sun will ever have such wisdom
as this.
57.
What country girl bewitches your mind . . .
&n
bsp; dressed in her country clothes . . .
not knowing how to pull her ragged dress over her ankles?
58.
. . . I pray
. . . now a festival
. . . under the earth
. . . having a gift of honor
. . . as I am now on the earth
. . . taking the sweet-sounding lyre
. . . I sing to the reed-pipe
. . . fleeing
. . . was bitten
. . . gives success to the mouth
. . . beautiful gifts of the violet-laden Muses, children
. . . the sweet-sounding lyre dear to song.
. . . my skin once soft is wrinkled now,
. . . my hair once black has turned to white.
My heart has become heavy, my knees
that once danced nimbly like fawns cannot carry me.
How often I lament these things—but what can be done?
No one who is human can escape old age.
They say that rosy-armed Dawn once took
Tithonus, beautiful and young, carrying him to the
ends of the earth. But in time grey old age still
found him, even though he had an immortal wife.
. . . imagines
. . . might give
I love the pleasures of life . . . and this to me.
Love has given me the brightness and beauty of the sun.
59.
loves . . .
new . . .
60.
. . . meeting
. . . wish
. . . carry out my plan
. . . I call
. . . my heart at once
. . . all you wish to accomplish
. . . to fight for me
. . . persuaded by a wanton woman
. . . for you know well
61.
they became . . .
for not . . .
62.
You were afraid . . .
laurel tree . . .
but everything sweeter . . .
than that . . .
and to those women . . .
a journeyer . . .
I scarcely ever listened . . .
beloved soul . . .
such things now . . .
to come, gentle . . .
you came first, beautiful . . .
and the clothes . . .
63.
Dream of blackness . . .
you come whenever sleep . . .
sweet god, terrible sorrow . . .
keep away the power . . .
but I have hope I will not share . . .
nothing of the blessed ones . . .
for I would not be this way . . .
playthings . . .
but may it happen to me . . .
everything . . .
64.
64A.
for friends . . .
of children . . .
to the gods . . .
shame . . .
65.
for Sappho, you . . .
Cyprus queen . . .
yet great . . .
Searching for Sappho Page 14
