The Poems of Sappho: An Interpretative Rendition into English

Thrill my heart that throbs with unwonted fervor, Chasten mouth and throat with immortal kisses, Till I yield on maddening heights the very Breath of my body.

Come, ye Muses, too, from the shades of Pindus, Let your songs, that echo on winds of rapture, Wake the lyre he tunes to the sweet inspiring Sound of your voices.

High they held their goblets and made libation, Spilling wine as pledge to the Fates and Hades Quaffing deep and binding their hearts to Eros, Lauding thy servant.

So to me and my Lesbians round me gathered, Each made mine, an amphor of love long tasted, Bid us drink, who sigh for thy thrill ecstatic, Passion's full goblet;

Grant me this, O Kypris, and on thy altar Dawn will see a goat of the breed of Naxos, Snowy doves from Cos and the drip of rarest Lesbian vintage;

For a regal taste is mine and the glowing Zenith-lure and beauty of suns must brighten Love for me, that ever upon perfection Trembles elusive.

So when Anactoria's beauty dazzles Sight of mine, grown dim with the joy it gives me, Gorgo, Atthis, Gyrinno, all the others Fade from my vision.

But must I dare all, since to me unworthy, Bliss thy beauty brings that a God might envy; Never yet was fervid woman a fairer Image of Kypris.

Ah! undying Daughter of God, befriend me! Calm my blood that thrills with impending transport; Feed my lips the murmur of words to stir her Bosom to pity;

Overcome with kisses her faintest protest, Melt her mood to mine with amorous touches, Till her low assent and her sigh's abandon Lure me to rapture.

Softly breathed, its scent is a plea for passion, When it blooms to welcome the kiss of Kypris; Sheathed in fragrant leaves its tremulous petals Laugh in the zephyr.

Ode to Aphrodite

Aphrodite, subtle of soul and deathless, Daughter of God, weaver of wiles, I pray thee Neither with care, dread Mistress, nor with anguish, Slay thou my spirit!

But in pity hasten, come now if ever From afar of old when my voice implored thee, Thou hast deigned to listen, leaving the golden House of thy father

With thy chariot yoked; and with doves that drew thee, Fair and fleet around the dark earth from heaven, Dipping vibrant wings down the azure distance, Through the mid-ether;

Very swift they came; and thou, gracious Vision, Leaned with face that smiled in immortal beauty, Leaned to me and asked, "What misfortune threatened? Why I had called thee?"

"What my frenzied heart craved in utter yearning, Whom its wild desire would persuade to passion? What disdainful charms, madly worshipped, slight thee? Who wrongs thee, Sappho?"

"She that fain would fly, she shall quickly follow, She that now rejects, yet with gifts shall woo thee, She that heeds thee not, soon shall love to madness, Love thee, the loth one!"

Come to me now thus, Goddess, and release me From distress and pain; and all my distracted Heart would seek, do thou, once again fulfilling, Still be my ally!

From the shade of branches that droop and cover Shallow trenches winding about the orchard, Restful comes, and cool to the sense, the flowing Murmur of water.

Myrtle coverts hedging the open vista, Dear to nightly frolic of Nymph and Satyr, Yield a mossy bed for the brown and weary Limbs of the shepherd.

Echo ever wafts through the drooping frondage, Ceaseless silver murmur of water falling In the grotto cool of the Nymphs, the sacred Haunt of Immortals;

Down the sides of rocks that are gray and lichened Trickle tiny rills, whose expectant tinkle Drips with gurgle hushed in the clear glimmering Depths of the basin.

Fair on royal couches of leaves recumbent, Interspersed with languor of waxen lilies, Lotus flowers empurple the pool whose edge is Cushioned with mosses;

Here recline the Nymphs at the hour of twilight, Back in shadows dim of the cave, their golden Sea-green eyes half lidded, up to their supple Waists in the water.

Sheltered once by ferns I espied them binding Tresses long, the tint of lilac and orange; Just beyond the shimmer of light their bodies Roseate glistened;

Deftly, then, they girdled their loins with garlands, Linked with leaves luxuriant limb and shoulder; On their breasts they bruised the red blood of roses Fresh from the garden.

She of orange hair was the Nymph Euxanthis, And the lilac-tressed were Iphis and Io; How they laughed, relating at length their ease in Evading the Satyr.

Soon they gained the tile of my roof and rested, Slipped their heads beneath their wings while I watched them Sink to sleep and dreams, in the warm and drowsy Night of midsummer.

Sing the song while I, in the arms of Atthis, Seal her lips to mine with a lover's fervor, Breathe her breath and drink her sighs to the honeyed Lull of the melics.