Sappho

The evening star, Hesperus, / brings all things back.

Of the bright morning's / dispersed flocks.

I swear an oath by the light of the white-armed moon / that I will never forget you.

Truly, I wish I were dead.

She who was once the talk of the town / now walks alone.

The limbs of the beloved / are like white violets.

As an apple reddens / on the high bough.

Dainty Adonis is dying.

Cytherea, let soft / peace be in my heart.

I put on my scented linen robe / and took my fill of the saffron-vested.

The Muses' nightingale / sings sweetly.

Once again Love, that loosener / of limbs, bittersweet and inescapable.

You came and I was longing for you; / you cooled a heart that burned with desire.

Equal to the gods seems to me / that man who sits facing you.

My tongue is broken, a thin flame runs under / my skin; I see nothing with my eyes.

I drip with sweat; I am paler than grass, / and a little closer to death I seem.

But all must be endured, since even a / poor frail woman...

The hour is come: the gods / to keep their word.

Hail, goddess, queen of well-built Salamis / and of Cyprus.

I sing of the beautiful daughters of the / evening.