Great Throughts Treasury

"Gracious your form and your eyes as honey : desire is poured upon your lovely face Aphrodite has honored you exceedingly."

"He is more than a hero, he is a god in my eyes-- the man who is allowed o sit beside you -- he who listens intimately to the sweet murmur of your voice, the enticing laughter that makes my own heart beat fast. If I meet you suddenly, I can' speak -- my tongue is broken; a thin flame runs under my skin; seeing nothing, hearing only my own ears drumming, I drip with sweat; trembling shakes my body and I turn paler than dry grass. At such times death isn't far from me."

"Honestly, I wish I were dead. Weeping many tears, she left me and said, ?Alas, how terribly we suffer, Sappho. I really leave you against my will.? And I answered: ?Farewell, go and remember me. You know how we cared for you. If not, I would remind you... of our wonderful times. For by my side you put on many wreaths of roses and garlands of flowers around your soft neck. And with precious and royal perfume you anointed yourself. On soft beds you satisfied your passion. And there was no dance, no holy place from which we were absent.?"

"I declare that later on, even in an age unlike our own, someone will remember who we are."

"I don?t know what to do: I am of two minds."

"I have a beautiful daughter like a golden flower my beloved Kleis. I would not trade her for all Lydia nor lovely... When you lie dead, no one will remember you for you have no share in the Muses? roses. No, flitting aimlessly about, you will wildly roam,"

"I have no complaint prosperity that the golden Muses gave me was no delusion: dead, I won't be forgotten."

"I just really want to die. She, crying many tears, left me and said to me: "Oh, how terribly we have suffered, we two, Sappho, really I don't want to go away." And I said to her this: go and be happy, remembering me, for you know how we cared for you. And if you don't I want to remind you...and the lovely things we felt with many wreathes of violets and roses and crocuses and... and you sat next to me and threw around your delicate neck garlands fashioned of many woven flowers and with much... costly myrrh... and you anointed yourself with royal... and on soft couches...(your) tender.... fulfilled your longing."

"I know not what to do, my mind is divided."

"I love the sun, the beauty, it is the part of me here."

"I would not think to touch the sky with two arms."

"If you are my friend, stand up before me and scatter the grace that's in your eyes."

"If you are squeamish don't prod the beach rubble."

"Immortal Aphrodite, on your intricately brocaded throne child of Zeus, weaver of wiles, this I pray: Dear Lady, don?t crush my heart with pains and sorrows."

"In fact she herself once blamed me because I prayed this word: I want."

"In the mountains that shepherds crush underfoot. Even on the ground a purple flower."

"It?s very easy to make this clear to everyone, for Helen, by far surpassing mortals in beauty, left the best of all husbands sailed to Troy, mindful of neither her child nor her dear parents, but with one glimpse she was seduced by Aphrodite. For easily bent... and nimbly...[missing text]... has reminded me now of Anactoria who is not here; I would much prefer to see the lovely way she walks and the radiant glance of her face than the war-chariots of the Lydians or their footsoldiers in arms."

"It's no use Mother dear, I can't finish my weaving You may blame Aphrodite soft as she is she has almost killed me with love for that boy."

"Like - - - the honeyapple turning red on the high branch, high on the highest, but the apple pickers missed it. Oh no, they did not miss it, they could not reach it."

"Love bittersweet, irrepressible loosens my limbs and I tremble."

"Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables."

"Love is enjoying a lot and then mourn more."

"Love shook my heart like the wind on the mountain rushing over the oak trees."

"Many colored throned immortal Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, wile-weaver, I beg you with reproaches and harms do not beat down O Lady, my soul. But come here, if ever at another time my voice hearing, from afar. You have ear, and your father's home leaving ---golden --- you came yoking the chariot. And fair, swift doves brought you over the black earth dense wings whirring, from heaven down through middle air. Suddenly they arrived, and you, O Blessed One, smiling with your immortal countenance asked what hurt me, and for what now I cried out. And what do I want to happen most in my crazy heart. "Whom then Persuasion... to bring to you, dearest? Who hurts you. And if she flees, soon will she follow, and if she does not take gifts, she will give, if she does not love, she will love despite herself." Come to me now, the harsh worry let loose, what my heart wants to be done, do it!, and you yourself be my battle-ally."

"May I write words more naked than flesh stronger than bone more resilient than sinew sensitive than nerve."

"May you sleep on the breast of your delicate friend."

"Mother love I cannot weave 'm bushed sad thank you for the lovely Afrotiden."

"Not that the poet, the house belongs to the selected."

"Now the Earth with many flowers puts on her spring embroidery."

"O dream on your black wings you come when I am sleeping. Sweet is the god but still I am in agony and far from my strength. for I had hope (none now) to share something of the blessed gods, nor was I so foolish as to scorn pleasant toys. Now may I have all these things."

"O Venus, beauty of the skies, to whom a thousand temples rise, gaily false in gentle smiles, full of love-perplexing wiles; O goddess, from my heart remove the wasting cares and pains of love. If ever thou hast kindly heard a song in soft distress preferred, propitious to my tuneful vow, a gentle goddess, hear me now. Descend, thou bright immortal guest, in all thy radiant charms confessed. Thou once didst leave almighty Jove and all the golden roofs above: the car thy wanton sparrows drew, hovering in air they lightly flew; as to my bower they winged their way I saw their quivering pinions play. The birds dismissed (while you remain) bore back their empty car again: then you, with looks divinely mild, in every heavenly feature smiled, and asked what new complaints I made, and why I called you to my aid?"

"Of course I am downcast and tremble with pity for my state when old age and wrinkles cover me, when Eros flies about and I pursue the glorious young. Pick up your lyre and sing to us of her who wears violets on her breasts. Sing especially of her who is wandering."

"Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done."

"Raise high the roof beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man."

"Rapidly they came. And you, O Blessed Goddess, a smile on your immortal face, asked what had happened this time, did I call again, and what did I especially desire myself in my frenzied heart: ?Who this time am I to persuade to your love? Sappho, who is doing you wrong? For even if she flees, soon she shall pursue. And if she refuses gifts, soon she shall give them. If she doesn?t love you, soon she shall love even if she?s unwilling.?"

"She honored you as like unto a goddess, was joyous most with your singing. Now she shines forth among the women of Lydia, as when the sun goes down, the rosy-fingered Moon outshining all the stars, her light spreads over the salty sea, over the many-flowered fields. The dew falls in beauty, the rose and delicate anthruska and honey-lotus in flower, are all of them abloom. Often wandering back and forth remembering gentle Atthis in her longing, she eats away her delicate breast with your fate?"

"She said: I feel really awful, really sad going away like this, there's so much more... And she broke off. And I said to her no, go and be glad for all the good, all the wonderful things we had, and if you forget, I'll call to mind for you those October afternoons sitting in the booklined office while the sun stream rays dropped and suddenly left us sitting in the half dark room. And when you told me about your dog, and just at dark I drove you home, and watched you vanishing in your door flicking the porch light on. I saw you go slowly, you know I waited a minute before I went driving down seminary street thinking of nothing but you. And later when the first snow came, and you sat cold in my office pulling your arms up inside your sleeves shivering a little without noticing the cold. And that paper cup of water I brought you, you fidgeted it talking about something, and finally threw it down crushed a little, on the table. I left it there all week, put it in the closet in case you ever returned. You said that maybe you would read more Greek, Aristotle sometime in springtime, just for fun, and all I could think about was springtime and warm air, walking in woods and new leaf greenery, and Lo! Somewhere in April I expected you coming, smiling... You never came, years passed suddenly, but this afternoon I know you'll be here at half past three. The day is gaunt, springtime seems far away. Slightly nervously I roll the years back off in reverse, wondering how you will be, coming through the door, and what you'll say."

"Sleep is reserved them for himself all night."

"Sleep, darling I have a small daughter called Cleis, who is like a golden flower I wouldn't take all Croesus' kingdom with love thrown in, for her---Don't ask me what to wear I have no embroidered headband from Sardis to give you, Cleis, such as I wore and my mother always said that in her day a purple ribbon looped in the hair was thought to be high style indeed but we were dark: a girl whose hair is yellower than torchlight should wear no headdress but fresh flowers."

"Some celebrate the beauty of knights, or infantry, or billowing flotillas at battle on the sea. Warfare has its glory, but I place far above these military splendors the one thing that you love. For proof of this contention examine history: we all remember Helen, who left her family, her child, and royal husband, to take a stranger's hand: her beauty had no equal, but bowed to love's command. As love then is the power that none can disobey, so too my thoughts must follow my darling far away: the sparkle of her laughter would give me greater joy than all the bronze-clad heroes."

"Some say an army of horsemen, some of foot-soldiers, some of ships, is the fairest thing on the black earth, but I say it is what one loves. It's very easy to make this clear to everyone, for Helen, by far surpassing mortals in beauty, left the best of all husbands and sailed to Troy, mindful of neither her child nor her dear parents, but with one glimpse she was seduced by Aphrodite. For easily bent... and nimbly...[missing text]... has reminded me now of Anactoria who is not here; I would much prefer to see the lovely way she walks and the radiant glance of her face than the war-chariots of the Lydians or their foot-soldiers in arms."

"Some say cavalry and others claim infantry or a fleet of long oars is the supreme sight on the black earth. I say it is the one you love. Some say cavalry and others claim infantry or a fleet of long oars is the supreme sight on the black earth. I say it is the one you love. And easily proved. Didn't Helen, who far surpassed all mortals in beauty, desert the best of men, her king, and sail off to Troy and forget her daughter and her dear parents? Merely Aphrodite's gaze made her readily bend and led her far from her path. These tales remind me now of Anaktoria who isn't here, yet I for one would rather see her warm supple step and the sparkle in her face than watch all the chariots in Lydia and foot soldiers armored in glittering bronze."

"Someone will remember us I say even in another time."

"someone will remember us in the future. Now, I shall sing these songs."

"Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us."

"Spring messenger of the nightingales longing for the sound."

"Stand and face me, my love, and scatter the grace in your eyes."

"Stars around the lovely moon hide, hide back their shining light when she is full and most shine over the (whole) earth."

"Sweet mother, I can?t do my weaving?Aphrodite has crushed me with desire."

"Sweetest mother, I can weave no more to-day, For thoughts of him come thronging, Him for whom my heart is longing ? For I know not where my weary fingers stray."