Day and Night: Conversations with Sapphic Desire

> Brief Preface to Day and Night: Conversations with Sapphic Desire > > This work is a collection and arrangement of translations of ancient Greek lyric poets, drawn heavily from Sappho but also including other canonical melic poets (Alcman, Anacreon, Simonides, and a few others), and one Roman poet, Catullus. > > Sappho was a Greek poet from the island of Lesbos who lived from around 630 B.C. Her poems were initially composed to be performed to music. She is the most well-known and celebrated of the ancient lyric poets, both now and with her contemporaries. An epigram in the Palatine Anthology (9.506), ascribed -- probably erroneously -- to Plato, sums up her reputation by calling her “the tenth Muse.” A few of Sappho's most common themes are love and desire, death and aging, loss, relationships and community, poetry, and religious rites and invocations. Of the nine books of her poetry that scholars in Alexandria collected, we have merely scraps, fragments, quotations, and a stray poem or two. We might divide Sappho's extant work into several categories: the few poems that are nearly complete, or complete enough to get a sufficient sense of the original poem or some significant portion of it; complete stanzas, not enough to get a sense of the whole poem, but a stanza complete in itself, often quoted in an external ancient source; longer fragmentary pieces, often from preserved papyrus manuscripts; shorter fragments; a single line or word. The fragmentary nature of the remnants poses peculiar challenges and offers up peculiar joys to the translator. > > The subtitle of the collection, Conversations With Sapphic Desire, speaks to the way in which the collection might be conceived as a series of calls and responses to the shape of desire in Sappho's poetry, and the way that Sapphic desire moves and echoes through a tradition. The inclusion of Catullus, although it violates the consistency of the choice to include mostly Greek poets, and is separated from them temporally by hundreds of years, is one example of the way that Sapphic desire remains a vibrant and evolving force in Roman poetry and beyond. Although the arrangement, at the present moment, is a first draft -- provisional and rough -- I conceive it as telling the narrative, not of a life, but of an affect, the movement of desire from its dawn to its extinction in death. This affective biography at the same time intersects with a number of lives, and the whole arrangement proceeds under the stellar sign of the progression from day to night, from the first poem, in which the sun rises, to the final section, which is plunged into darkness and death. > > I have attempted to translate the poems in a flowing, idiomatic modern style, and my goal at every point has been to create translations that read as excellent poems in English. Walter Benjamin, in “The Task of the Translator,” writes, “the task of the translator consists in finding that intended effect upon the language into which he is translating which produces in it the echo of the original.” What kind of object of knowledge is an “original”? How do we have access to it if not via our subjective experience of reading, and to what degree is any translation bound to be as much a translation and reproduction of that subjective experience, rather than a translation of an objective “original”? > > For Benjamin, the unessential, the poetic, and the non-communicative in a source-text are the primary objects of the “good” translator. It seems to me that this poetic element is precisely the subjective, aesthetic element, to which one would have access, not through an objective standard of transparent communication or the transmission of information, but through his own subjective experience of reading. And yet this maximally subjective element---this element that is coterminous with the subjective, that is somehow peculiarly in excess of the communicable (the universal)---is precisely the universal element, the element in a poem that, for Benjamin, > > persists beyond the disaster of translation, that passes through the desert of impossibility. So we've arrived at a strange impasse, wherein the absolutely particular and untranslatable is coterminous with the absolutely universal -- the untranslatable is the only element that will make it across the desert of translation. > > If all translation is a betrayal, then it is my conviction that the most heinous betrayal is taking a poem that, in its source language, is excellent, and turning it into a poem that, in the target language, is stilted, mediocre, and unexceptional. It is in that spirit that I have given the best I have to offer in maintaining fidelity to the originals.

Day and Night 1

> Anacreontea 1 > > "Anacreon in a Dream" > > you noticed me > > in a dream, old Teionian poet, > > Anacreon: > > in a dream rose up in front of me > > to speak. > > I ran to you > > and threw my arms around you > > with a kiss: > > old graybeard, yes, > > but lovely; > > but eager to love, > > and lovely. > > your lips smelled like wine, > > and Desire led you by the fingers > > since you trembled with old age > > and you took your garland down > > to give me -- > > (the flowers, Anacreon, > > theysmelled like you) > > Idiot me, I lifted it > > and set it on my brow, > > and from then, even now, > > I haven't held myself back > > from desire.

Sappho 147

someone, someday

will remember us,

I know it...

Day and Night 2

I.

First Rays

Day and Night 3

> Corinna 691 > > Dawn plunges up > > from the ocean deep, drawing off a moon > > holy brightness from the ash > > grey sky. > > Sea-sons, sons of deathless > > Zeus, blossomdeep > > in May. > > In the seven-gated city, > > the chorus of singers > > cries holy > > Sappho 136 > > bright-songed nightingale, > > you prophesy > > the Spring > > Sappho 73a > > word-sweet Aphrodite, > > keeping the dew

Day and Night 4

> Sappho 54 > > "Eros" > > he comes from heaven > > wrapped with the deep > > purple mantle > > Alcman 3a > > from high Olympus, the Muses > > call, from Olympus they fill > > my body with longing: a new song, > > come, a new song, come: > > I want to hear the young girls > > sing the hymn that breaks the sky, > > I want to hear the song > > that scatters dreams from my heavy > > eyelids, and leads me, willing, > > to the assembly: > > I shake my head and the yellow > > hair falls down > > in waves > > Sappho 70 > > Harmonia, I'm going to the joy > > deep choir, > > to hear the liquid > > voices

Day and Night 5

> Sappho 6 > > Come with me: > > we'll be with golden > > armed Dawn > > Sappho 43 > > work disturbs the sleeping > > mind -- but we have to hurry: > > Dawn is coming

Day and Night 6

> Sappho 81 > > But you, Dica, weave together anise > > stems with your fingers > > supple; bind > > back your hair with garlands > > sweet: the blessed > > Charites turn to the one > > wearing flowers; > > hide their faces from > > the uncrowned. > > Sappho 103 > > holy Charites, holy Pierian > > Muses: don't > > be upset -- > > Sing the soft feet > > of the bride; sing the violet- > > breasted daughter of Zeus -- > > songs in my thoughts, > > hearing a liquid- > > sweet music, setting > > the lyre in place: > > radiant-sandalled > > Dawn in my hair

Day and Night 7

> Sappho 53 > > Come to me pure rose > > wristed Charites, > > Zeus-daughters > > Sappho 118 > > Holy lyre come to me, > > sing through me, > > find your voice

Day and Night 8

> Sappho 2 > > Here > > to me > > from Crete > > to this holy temple, where the glad- > > making grove of apple trees > > waits, and the altars smoke > > thick with frankincense > > here the cold water chimes > > through apple branches, and rose- > > dappled shadows stretch, and sleep > > drips down from bright- > > shaking leaves > > here the horse-pasturing > > meadow bursts > > with vernal blossoms, > > and breezes whisper > > sweetly. > > Here, Cyprian: > > into our golden > > cups, pour nectar mixed > > with joy.

Day and Night 9

> Sappho 108 > > O beautiful, O grace- > > touched girl > > Sappho 56 > > I cannot imagine > > another > > girl with a gift > > like yours > > drinking in sun's > > light ever > > in time to come > > Simonides 567 > > "Orpheus" > > birds swarm > > in the sky above his > > naked song, and fish leap > > up in a vertical > > line > > above > > the water > > to hear his lovely music > > Sappho 106 > > ...as much better > > as the Lesbian poet > > is better than > > the other poets

Day and Night 10

> Sappho 38 > > you make us burn

Day and Night 11

II\.

Bright Morning

Day and Night 12

> Alcman 3b > > Her sweetness isn't empty: > > Astymeloisa is coy > > and quiet. She lifts > > the garland high > > like a star that falls > > from a burning sky, > > like an incandescent > > branch, or goose down > > soft and fluttering: > > her glance that melts > > the limbs like desire, > > her glance that dissolves > > like sleep or death. > > Alcman 82a > > Mnasidica's body is > > lovelier > > than poor-sweet, > > innocent Gyrrino > > Sappho 36 > > and I want, I want, I desire...

Day and Night 13

> Catullus 2 > > Sparrow, my girl's little pet: > > if my desire > > wants some plaything > > she plays with you > > in her lap; > > she gives you a fingertip > > and startles a painful > > bite -- > > I think so that when the fire > > dies, the sting of her sadness > > will too. > > I'd play with you > > like she does > > and soothe my aching mind.

Day and Night 14

> Sappho 48 > > when I was mad for you, > > you came. > > you cooled my mind > > that burned with desire. > > Sappho 62 > > you cowered and > > shook, like a laurel: > > anything sweeter > > than that. > > to women a > > wanderer, but I > > scarcely heard > > darling soul. > > Now these thing > > come gently, you > > came first, > > beautiful > > and the clothing

Day and Night 15

> Sappho 23 > > In your eyes when I > > am close: desire and hope. > > you are my yellow > > haired Helen, or Hermione. I want you > > to know you dissolve > > all my knots. > > The dew on the river > > banks -- I will not > > sleep > > tonight. > > Sappho 130 > > Eros sends a seizure > > again -- he's melting my > > body and tenderly stabbing > > my skin > > useless to fight you, sweet > > creature desire

Day and Night 16

> Catullus 7 > > Lesbia, do you want to know > > how many kisses > > would satisfy me > > forever? > > A kiss for each grain of Lybian > > sand > > strewn on the shores of silphium- > > flowering Cyrene, > > or between the oracle of desert > > Jove > > and the sacred tomb of ancient Battis. > > Or, again, one for each > > of the infinite stars at the dead > > of night, > > that gaze down on the stolen > > kisses > > of the world. > > That many. To kiss you with > > that many kisses > > would satisfy and then some > > your lovesick Catullus, > > a number no accountant's eye > > could tally, no > > witch's tongue > > could curse.

Day and Night 17

> Catullus 5 > > We are alive and in love, > > my Lesbia: > > their senile whispers weigh as much > > as the pennies that clink > > in my pockets. > > Suns will rise and set, > > but when the tiny light > > of our love sinks just once > > we've an endless night to sleep. > > Give me a million kisses, then a thousand; > > another million, a second thousand, > > always another million and a second thousand -- > > when we've added up a million millions > > we'll scatter the sum to the winds > > like sand > > and no one will count > > our numberless kisses

Day and Night 18

> Catullus 3 > > Whoever's left with a heart > > that feels, > > weep aloud and gnash your teeth: > > my girlfriend's sparrow, > > no more. > > Sparrow, my girlfriend's pet -- > > she loved you more than her own eyes > > because you were sweet to her, > > and clung to her like a little girl clings > > to mother. > > You never left her lap, > > you hopped around from spot to spot > > chirping for your mistress alone -- > > Now you hop down the darkest road > > through pitchy black > > from which no one has ever > > come back. > > I'll see you in hell, you ugly > > emptiness, you dark mouth swollen > > wet > > with death -- > > you swallow down > > all pretty sparrows. > > O rotten day! > > O miserable bird! > > Because of you my girl's poor eyes > > puff up, > > and swell wet-pink with sobbing.

Day and Night 19

> Sappho 94 > > "Really, I'd rather be dead." > > She left me crying > > and through many tears said, > > "Oh, > > Sappho, it's all turned out so badly > > for us. I promise I don't > > want to go." > > I answered, saying, "Goodbye. Go. > > But remember me. You know how I > > have cherished you. > > Remember all the beautiful > > times > > we shared: > > Together, beside me, > > you wove through your hair > > many crowns of violets > > and roses, > > and put around your tender neck > > many garlands woven > > of blossoms, > > and anointed your breasts > > with perfume sweet > > and flowery, > > and on soft beds > > gave way to delicate > > longing. > > There wasn't a single > > shrine > > we didn't visit, > > not a grove, > > a dance > > a sound

Day and Night 20

> Sappho 16 > > Some say the most beautiful sight > > on the black earth's face > > is a regiment of mounted troops, > > or a phalanx of ships, > > or a throng of infantry > > in armor. > > Not so. > > I say it\'s whatever one wants. > > This is easy to show: > > Helen, a diamond > > in the sweating rough of humanity, > > left behind a successful husband, > > went sailing off to Troy > > without a backward glance for > > friends, or parents, or family, > > or child - > > led astray. > > (much like I remember now > > my absent Anactoria; > > I\'d rather see > > the swing of her hips > > and the pink glow burning > > in those cheeks than all > > the Lydian armada in its > > splendor.)

Day and Night 21

> Sappho 105a > > Like the too-sweet apple over > > red on the treetop, on the tip > > of the topmost > > branch, forgotten by > > the pickers (or -- not forgotten, no -- > > too high) > > Sappho 52 > > i will never > > wrap > > these two > > arms > > around > > the sky.

Day and Night 22

III\.

Zenith

Day and Night 23

> Sappho 27 > > "for mortals, there is one way..." > > you were a young girl, once. > > now we walk to the bitter > > sweet wedding: > > send off > > the young women quickly; > > sing out > > this moment as song: > > don't hold back the gifts > > of the Muses, girls: > > may the gods make a way, though narrow, > > to Olympus' heights > > for mortals.

Day and Night 24

> Sappho 30 > > tonight, let the girls > > sing all through the dark hour, > > until the dawn hears the sweetnesses shared > > by the groom, and the bride covered > > purple with violets. > > shake yourselves from sleep, dear girls; > > call to the boys who are tender > > like you are, and we won't sleep until the bright > > toned dawn > > bird cries.

Day and Night 25

> Sappho 44a > > Leto gave birth to Phoebus Apollo > > when she lay with Zeus > > whose name has power: > > but Artemis swore a solemn > > vow: > > I want to stay a virgin > > forever, hunting on the mountain > > peaks -- for my sake nod > > in assent. > > So she spoke, > > and the father of the blessed ones > > nodded. So the gods have named her > > Huntress, a name that has great > > power: > > Eros stays > > far away.

Day and Night 26

> Anacreontea 2 > > "Lucid Madness" > > Give me Homer's lyre > > without the bloody string. > > Bring me cups filled with rules, > > bring them with laws mixed in > > so drunk I'll dance > > with lucid madness; > > singing to a lute > > I'll shout out the wine-song. > > Give me Homer's lyre > > without the bloody string.

Day and Night 27

> Sappho 44 > > "the wedding of Hector and Andromache" > > A messenger comes, swift Idaeus > > announcing -- > > ...and the rest of Asia, undying > > glory: from sacred Thebes and Placias > > whose waters flow eternally, Hector and his men > > bring radiant Andromache over the briny > > deep in ships filled with bangles contrived > > of pure gold, purple robes anointed > > with fragrance, intricately crafted > > adornments, numberless goblets silver > > and ivory. > > With this, Hector's dear father starts > > to his feet. The news spreads through the wide > > laned city; on the spot the Iliadai harness > > beasts of burden to the smooth > > running carriages and the gathered > > crowd of women and tender > > ankled adolescent girls jumps up, the daughters > > of Priam separately. The unmarried > > men harness horses to their chariots: > > charioteers with power, > > godlike, holy, > > all together to Ilium: > > the honey voices of the citharis and the double > > flute blend with the shout of > > castanets and the sweet clear voice > > of the young girls' holy song that builds > > in a breath-numbing echo rolling up > > to heaven: > > everywhere along the > > streets, deep bowls and drinking cups > > and the aroma of myrrh and cassia and > > frankincense mingle, and the older women cry > > out ecstatically and the men lift up a high-clear > > strain of desire, calling on the archer god Paean > > whose gift is the lyre: > > a hymn > > to godlike Hector and Andromache.

Day and Night 28

> Sappho 111 > > Up high, hey, the ceiling: > > Hymenaeus! > > Raise the rafters > > Make room, hey, the roof: > > Hymen! Hymenaeus! > > Carpenters lift up, > > hey, the rafters: > > Hymen! Hymenaeus! > > The bridegroom is coming > > tall as Ares, > > taller than a tall man! > > Sappho 103b > > from the chamber: the bride with her tender > > feet

Day and Night 29

IV\.

Fading Light

Day and Night 30

> Sappho 88 > > There's little you could > > wish for > > sweeter: > > Someone might say > > you've forgotten, but I > > will love > > as long > > as I > > have breath. > > I have been > > a friend > > to you. > > sweet and > > bitter, yes. > > but know that I > > will love you.

Day and Night 31

> Sappho 31 > > That man seems blessed as any god to me — > whoever sits across from you and close, > drinking the sweetness of your voice, > your easy laugh. > > This. This is what sets my heart to drum > against my ribs. I catch one glimpse of you > and suddenly my throat closes, my voice > gives out, gives up — > > my tongue snaps clean in half, a subtle fire > goes racing just beneath my skin, my eyes > go dark, a roaring fills my ears and rings > and will not stop — > > cold sweat breaks out across my body, trembling > takes me entire, I go gray as dry grass > gone to drought, and I seem to myself > not far from dead — > > but all must be dared. Since you, Kypris, > save beggar and king alike, > and lift even the small city beyond ruin — > let this song survive in script.

Day and Night 32

> Sappho 47 > > Eros destroys > > the mind in me, > > a wind, shattering the mountain > > oaks > > Sappho 105b > > like the mountain hyacinth > > trampled by shepherd men's > > feet, > > and on the ground > > the purple flower

Day and Night 33

> Sappho 26 > > the ones I love > > always hurt me. > > I want you > > to feel > > inside myself > > I know it > > Sappho 67 > > this corrosive > > demon > > didn't love > > now because > > and the cause is neither > > nothing much > > Sappho > > your pain > > etched face shines > > back at me

Day and Night 34

> Sappho 44b > > The Muses' shining > > gifts make the Charites > > slender: don't forget the anger > > that mortals share

Day and Night 35

> Sappho 7 > > Doricha orders, > > arrogance like a teenage > > boy > > Sappho 15 > > Cyprian, > > don't let Doricha get stuck on herself, > > saying she came -- not once -- > > but twice to the arms > > of her aching desire. > > Let her discover how bitter > > barbed you are. > > Sappho 91 > > I've never met such an awful > > pest as you, Irana

Day and Night 36

> Sappho 71 > > but how could I let you, Mica? > > you wanted to make friends > > with those Penthilus girls, and you really are > > a bitch. > > our honey song > > singing soft-voiced: > > everything, > > a mist of dew...

Day and Night 37

> Sappho 3 > > You give > > gifts swollen > > with hurtful words: > > have your fill. I am not > > so disposed, and I know > > how wicked > > the heart is. > > Corinna 690 > > self-violence, a heart > > demanding murder: > > she hid it away; she gave > > gifts that burned > > with fire.

Day and Night 38

> Sappho 95 > > i don't like it > > up here above ground: i want > > to feel death, i want > > to see the dew > > spotted banks, i want > > to see the lotus > > fringed banks of > > Acheron > > Sappho 65 > > to Sappho: > > a queen in Cyprus > > great, > > on whomever blazing > > radiant everywhere > > glory -- > > and you in Acheron

Day and Night 39

Sappho 1, a new translation

I'm begging you, Aphrodite: Zeus-

born immortal of light-

dappled thrones: don't

abandon me---but come.

If ever you've heard

my cries and quit

your father's golden house

in sparrow-drawn chariots, bright

wings cutting above black

earth, a blur

of speed from the middle-

horizon: they came---

and you, goddess: depthless

eyes smiling, you asked

what's happened, this time, and why

do I call on you, this time? What

does my frenzied heart need

so badly? "What sweet girl

will crawl to your arms? Sappho,

love, who's hurt you? If the girl

strays, she'll soon

give chase; or spurns

your gifts, she'll give them.

Though she feels

no desire, she'll burn

for you soon."

So come to me. Drain

tension from my

troubled thoughts,

whatever my heart

wants---do it.

Once again be in battle beside me.

Day and Night 40

V.

Middle Night

Day and Night 41

> Sappho 98a > > When she was young, > > my mother said, > > the girls used to bind dark locks > > with purple bands, > > or weave fresh flowers > > through braids of summer yellow, > > and that was a simple ornament. > > Now they wear gaudy things > > bought from Sardis. > > Sappho 42 > > when winter cold > > sneaks over the heart, wing > > beats slow, > > then stillness > > Sappho 49 > > long ago I loved you, Atthis, > > when you were a tiny girl, > > and you seemed so > > small and > > awkward.

Day and Night 42

> Sappho 96 > > from Sardis, > > she often turns her thoughts toward you, > > like a goddess. she loved your song > > like no other. > > now she shines among Lydian women > > like the rose-fingered moon in the night > > outshines all other stars, its silver light > > spreading over salt > > heavy sea, and over the blossom > > thick meadows. > > the grass weeps lovely > > dew and the roses open > > wide, beside flowering > > melilot and chervil. > > how many times has she wandered > > aimlessly, remembering > > gentle Atthis? while longing gnaws > > at her fragile heart? > > (this mind sings > > to go there) > > it's not easy for us > > to be like goddesses > > in loveliness of form. > > Aphrodite poured nectar > > from her golden > > hands: > > persuasion > > desire > > I will come.

Day and Night 43

> Sappho 22 > > the trial: a lovely face -- > > unpleasant, yes. but otherwise > > winter. > > Abanthis: while desire still flutters > > around you, pick up your lyre > > and sing the beauty > > of Gongyla, and how the sight of her dress > > made you quiver -- > > and I'll be happy. > > One time the holy Cyprian > > even blamed me > > for praying these words: > > I want

Day and Night 44

> Sappho 20 > > the glimmer: > > a chance to return > > to the harbor's dusk - > > black sand: > > the sailors in the fierce wind > > blasts, the sail and the shifting > > cargo: > > much work to dry land.

Day and Night 45

> Sappho 132 > > My little girl's face, > > like bright > > yellow flowers: Cleis, > > more precious to me > > than all Lydia. > > Sappho 98b > > but Cleis I don't know > > where to get the special > > ribbons to hold > > your hair back: > > there's nowhere, Cleis.

just one more reminder that Myrsilus

> has exiled us > > from Mytilene. > > Sappho 102 > > Mother I do > > love you, but I really can't > > work the loom -- > > Aphrodite is making me need that boy > > Sappho 24 > > Remember: > > we too did the same > > in our youth. > > we are many > > and lovely in the city, > > in the city's foundations we live > > at a whisper

Day and Night 46

> Hipponax 32 > > Dear Hermes, Cyllenian Hermes, son of Maia, > > I'm praying to you > > while my teeth are clattering > > in my skull, and I'm shaking > > like a seizure: give poor Hipponax > > a sweater, and a nice coat to keep warm, > > and nice warm shoes, and a pair of sandals, > > and, while you're at it, a pile of > > coins, to balance the books. > > Thanks, > > Hipponax > > Hipponax 34 > > Dear Hermes, > > You haven't given me > > a nice warm coat yet > > as a cure for the freezing > > winter. You haven't covered my feet > > with fur-lined shoes yet, so my chilblains don't > > pop. > > Thanks, > > Your friend Hipponax > > Hipponax 39 > > Dear Hermes, > > Soon I'll give my tortured soul over > > to hanging, if you don't hurry up and send > > some barley, about a bushel, > > so I can brew up a cure > > for all my boundless suffering. > > Thanks, > > Sincerely,

Day and Night 47

> Hipponax > > Anacreon 358 > > Again Desire smacks me > > with his purple ball, > > and calls me out to play > > with the girl in spangled > > sandals: > > But she's a city girl > > from Lesbos. She laughs > > behind her hand > > because my hair is gray, > > and instead makes eyes > > at a girl! > > Sappho 85b

just like an old man

Day and Night 48

> Sappho 168b > > The moon has set > > and the Pleiades. It's middle > > night, and the hour > > slips past. > > Alone in bed. > > Sappho 34 > > The stars hide their shining > > bodies > > behind her, > > when the lovely moon > > overflows, > > and her glow spreads over the earth > > silvery

Day and Night 49

> Alcman 26 > > No more, sweet girls, sweet holy-voiced girls, > > will I dance: my knees just shake > > underneath me. If only I > > were a cerylus, who glides > > with the teeming halcyons > > over waves that blossom white > > with spray: > > strong ocean-purple bird, > > strong bird, > > your heart never shakes > > underneath you.

Day and Night 50

> Sappho new fragment > > Burn for the beautiful unearned gifts > > and the violet covered breasts of the Muses, girls; > > long for the song-sweet liquid of the lyre. > > As for me, it's too late: my skin (so supple once) > > old age has changed. > > The black has bled from my pale white braids. > > There's a knot in the pit of my stomach, and the same knees > > that once in the dance leapt light like gazelles > > now shake underneath my weight. > > Not a day goes by that I don't despair > > for this state of affairs. But what can I do? > > Every person alive must someday die. > > (which reminds me of Tithonus: They say that once > > upon a time the rose-fingered Dawn, > > consumed with longing, > > carried him off to the ends of the planet. > > He was young and pretty and the time, > > but old age eventually caught up with him, > > holding on tight to his deathless lover.)

Day and Night 51

> Sappho 21 > > Pity me, love: palsy and death > > hang on my flesh, and Desire > > flies off, chasing after younger girls. > > Sing to me, love: pick up your lyre > > and sing of a girl with violets > > on her breasts, who wanders > > somewhere far from here. > > Sappho 140 > > She dies, Cytherea: gentle Adonis > > is dying. What can we do? > > Beat your breasts, dear girls; > > tear you clothes and cry out. > > Sappho 150 > > Cleis, it's a sin to weep > > in the house of the Muses' > > servant: > > this is not our way

Day and Night 52

> Sappho 55 > > When all your stirrings, > > of blood and breath cease, > > and you pass through the outermost silence, > > where neither remembrance of you > > nor the heat of desire can puncture > > once > > that final hanging veil, > > then (since you take no communion > > with roses > > where Music was born > > with the Muses) > > you will dart, > > invisible in the House of Hades, > > to and fro above the bodies, > > that melt like shadow beneath you. > > Departed from us.

Day and Night 53

> Sappho 63 > > Dream of black you come > > whenever sleep comes sweet > > god terrible, yes, but you > > have power to keep away > > pain: a little hope grips me > > yet that I will not share > > in nothing with the blessed -- I > > do not > > want to be > > as I am: > > let me have these trinkets

Day and Night 54

> Stesichorus 15 > > Like a living thing silent > > and thirsty, the arrow bites > > sharp through skin and > > bone, to lodge vibrating > > in the middle brain, > > where it buries itself > > to the feathers. > > Geryon's neck > > slumps gently to one side > > while the blood flows black > > on gore-stained limbs > > and breastplate: > > a trickle of petals > > at summer's end, > > the poppy's tender > > glory.

Day and Night 55

> Simonides VIII > > If righteousness > > Is a holy death > > Then Fortune has smiled on us > > Above all others: we fought > > To crown Greece with freedom, > > And now we lie here, > > Undying praise > > Our possession. > > Simonides IX > > Around their country > > These men set deathless > > Glory, and around themselves > > The dark cloud of death. > > Though dead, they live. > > Their courage gives them fame > > Above, and calls them back > > From the halls of Hades. > > Simonides XLVII > > Long ago the savage god Ares > > Dipped his long-barbed arrows > > In the breasts of those > > Who lie here, and gorged them on > > Bloody droplets. > > This stone memorial, touched with > > dust, stands in the place > > Of the spear-struck dead, > > Lifeless rock > > In place of the living.

Day and Night 56

> Sappho 104a and b > > Hesperus, you carry home the dawn > > scattered sheep, home the goat > > that dawn scattered. you carry home > > the little child > > to mother. > > you are twilight lovely > > evening > > star.