THE FOLLOWING IS a translation of all of Sappho’s surviving poetry for readers to enjoy. In a few cases we are fortunate to have a complete or almost complete poem, though this is the exception rather than the rule. More often we have a single stanza, part of a line, or even just a single word. Yet even a word by itself can have beauty.
My translation and numbering of the poems is based on the Greek text of Sappho et Alcaeus: Fragmenta (Amsterdam: Athenaeum, 1971), edited by Eva-Maria Voigt. I used other scholarly editions as well, including Edgar Lobel and Denys Page’s Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta (Oxford: Clarendon, 1968) and David A. Campbell’s Greek Lyric I: Sappho and Alcaeus (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002). In many cases I was able to refer to high-quality photographs of the papyrus fragments themselves. In one instance, I was able to hold the only surviving copy of a Sappho poem (44) in my hands at the papyrology rooms of the Sackler Library at Oxford University. Next to the birth of my children, it was one of the most thrilling moments of my life.
The sources for each poem, along with occasional brief commentary, are given in the notes. In the poems that survive in fragments, ellipses (. . .) indicate gaps in the lines. In many cases, whole lines are missing between the gaps.
No translation of an ancient Greek author can do justice to the original, especially when that author is a poet as subtle as Sappho. In rendering her beautiful songs into English, I struggled with the often-competing goals of accuracy and readability. But as much as possible in all the poems, I tried to let Sappho speak to us through the centuries with her own voice.
1.
Deathless Aphrodite on your dazzling throne,
child of Zeus, weaver of snares, I pray to you,
do not, with anguish and pain, O Lady,
break my heart.
But come here now, if ever in the past,
listening, you heard my cries from afar
and leaving your father’s golden house,
you came to me,
yoking your chariot. Beautiful swift sparrows
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
. . . 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.
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 . . .
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.
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
. . . 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 . . .
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
. . . 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
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
. . . 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,
May the gods have . . .
. . . a road to great Olympus
. . . for mortals
29.
29B.
. . . Lady
29C.
. . . robes
. . . necklaces
. . . for Gorgo
29H.
. . . for Gyrinno
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.
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
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
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
. . . 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.
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
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.
What country girl bewitches your mind . . .
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
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 . . .
to all on whom the shining . . .
everywhere glory . . .
and you in Acheron’s . . .
67A.
and this . . .
destructive god . . .
truly did not love . . .
now because of . . .
the cause neither . . .
nothing much . . .
67B.
not . . .
these . . .
more . . .
around . . .
love . . .
68.
68A.
. . . for me from the
. . . yet became
. . . her like the gods
. . . sinful
. . . blessed one
. . . way
. . . did not restrain insolence
. . . the sons of Tyndareus
. . . kindly
. . . innocent no longer
. . . Megara
68B.
. . . difficult for me
69.
. . . sinful
70.
. . . I will go
. . . of harmony
. . . chorus
. . . sweet-voiced
. . . to all
. . . Mica
. . . I will not allow you
. . . you chose the love of the house of Penthilus
. . . evil betrayer
. . . sweet song
. . . voice like honey
. . . gentle breezes
. . . wet with dew
73.
73A.
. . . Aphrodite
. . . sweet words of love
. . . cast away
. . . having
. . . sits
. . . dew
74A.
. . . goatherd
. . . roses
74B.
. . . longing
74C.
. . . sweat
76.
. . . I want
. . . to hold
78.
. . . not
. . . longing
. . . suddenly
. . . longing
80.
. . . all
. . . but not the same
81.
. . . reject
. . . as quickly as possible
But you, Dica, weave lovely garlands in your hair,
tying stems of anise with your soft hands.
For the blessed Graces prefer to look on those adorned
with flowers and turn away from those without crowns.
82.
82A.
Mnasidica more finely shaped than tender Gyrinno . . .
. . . and
. . . nothing
. . . but now
. . . not
. . . more finely shaped
83.
. . . right now
. . . again
. . . for
84.
. . . delicate
. . . Artemis
85.
85B.
. . . like the old man
. . . peaceful
. . . aegis-bearing
. . . Cytherea I pray
. . . holding my heart
. . . hear my prayer if ever
. . . leaving behind
. . . to my
. . . difficult
87.
87A.
. . . rumor
. . . lock of hair
. . . together
. . . human
87B.
. . . worry
87C.
. . . daring
. . . youth
87E.
. . . queen
87F.
. . . for you
88.
88AB.
. . . loosen
. . . you would be willing
. . . few
. . . to be carried
. . . me . . . more sweetly
. . . you yourself know
. . . someone would say
. . . for I will love
. . . as long as there is in me
. . . will care
. . . I say that I have been a faithful lover
. . . bitter
. . . but know this
. . . whatever you
. . . I will love
. . . for
. . . of arrows
91.
. . . never have I found you more harmful, Irana
92.
robe . . .
saffron . . .
purple robe . . .
cloaks . . .
crowns . . .
beautiful . . .
purple . . .
. . . I have
. . . of virgins
94.
. . . “I honestly wish I were dead.”
Weeping she left me
with many tears and said this:
“Oh, this has turned out so badly for us, Sappho.
Truly, I leave you against my will.”
And I answered her:
“Be happy and go—and remember me.
for you know how much we loved you.
But if not, I want to remind
you . . .
. . . and the good times we had.
For many crowns of violets
and roses and . . .
. . . you put on by my side,
made from flowers
around your soft throat,
and with much perfume
costly . . .
fit for a queen, you anointed yourself.
And on a soft bed
delicate . . .
you let loose your desire.
And not any . . . nor any
holy place nor . . .
from which we were absent.
No grove . . . no dance
. . . no sound
95.
Gongyla . . .
surely some sign . . .
especially for children . . .
came in . . .
I said: “O master . . .
not the blessed . . .
a kind of longing has seized me to die
and see the dewy banks of Acheron
covered in lotus . . .
96.
. . . Sardis
. . . often turning her thoughts to this
. . . you like a goddess
and in your song she delighted most of all.
Now she stands out among
the women of Lydia,
like the rosy-fingered moon after sunset
surpasses all the stars. Its light
spreads alike over the salty sea
and fields rich in flowers.
The dew is poured forth in beauty,
roses bloom along with tender chevil
and flowering melilot.
She wanders to and fro remembering
gentle Atthis, and her tender
heart is consumed.
to go there . . .
much . . .
says . . .
For us it isn’t easy to rival the goddesses
in lovely form . . .
. . . love
. . . Aphrodite
. . . poured nectar
from golden cups . . .
. . . with hands Persuasion
. . . to the Geraesteum
. . . beloved
97.
flying about . . .
ivory . . .
98A.
For my mother used to say
that when she was young it was
a great ornament if someone had her hair
bound in a purple headband.
But for a girl whose hair
is yellower than
a flaming torch . . .
crowns adorned with
blooming flowers.
Recently a decorated headband
. . . from Sardis
. . . cities
98B.
But for you, Cleis, I have no beautiful headband
nor do I know how to get one.
But the one in Mytiline . . .
. . . to have
. . . adorned
. . . these things of the family of Cleanax
. . . exile
. . . memories dreadfully wasted away
100.
. . . and covered her completely with soft woven cloth
101.
. . . hand cloths
. . . purple
. . . sent from Phocaea
. . . expensive gifts
102.
Truly, sweet mother, I cannot weave on the loom,
for I am overcome with desire for a boy because of slender Aphrodite.
1. . . . for speak
2. . . . the bride with beautiful feet
3. . . . the child of Zeus with violets in her lap
4. . . . putting away anger, the one with violets in her lap
5. . . . holy Graces and Muses of Pieria
6. . . . when songs, the mind
7. . . . hearing a clear song
8. . . . bridegroom, vexing
9. . . . her hair, putting down the lyre
10. . . . golden-sandaled Dawn
103Aa.
. . . small
. . . many
. . . many
. . . their
. . . Gorgo
103Ab.
. . . to Cypris
. . . chamber
. . . bride with beautiful feet
. . . now
. . . for me
103Ca.
. . . to carry
. . . Archeanassa
. . . once in the past
. . . beloved
103Cb.
. . . they heard
. . . maidens
104A.
Evening, you gather together all that shining Dawn has scattered.
You bring back the sheep, you bring back the goat, you bring back
the child to its mother.
104B.
. . . most beautiful of all the stars
105.
105A.
. . . like the sweet apple that grows red on the lofty branch,
at the very top of the highest bough. The apple-pickers have forgotten it
—no, not forgotten, but they could not reach it.
105B.
. . . like the hyacinth shepherds tread underfoot
in the mountains, and on the ground the purple flower
superior, as the singer of Lesbos to those of other lands
107.
Do I still long for my virginity?
108.
O beautiful one, O graceful one
109.
We will give, says the father
110.
The door-keeper’s feet are as long as seven outstretched arms,
and his sandals are made from five ox-hides,
ten cobblers labored hard to make them.
Raise high the roof—
Hymenaeus!
Raise it up, carpenters—
Hymenaeus!
The bridegroom is coming, the equal of Ares,
and he’s much bigger than a big man.
112.
Blessed bridegroom, your wedding has been accomplished
just as you prayed and you have the maiden bride you desired.
Your form is graceful and your eyes . . .
honey-sweet. Love pours over your lovely face . . .
. . . Aphrodite has greatly honored you
113.
for never,
bridegroom, was there another girl like this one.
“Virginity, virginity, where have you gone? You’ve deserted me!”
“Never again will I come to you, never again will I come.”
115.
To what, dear bridegroom, can I in handsomeness compare you?
To a slender sapling most of all I do compare you.
116.
Farewell, bride, farewell, much-honored bridegroom.
117.
May you fare well, bride, and may the bridegroom fare well.
117A.
of polished doors
Come, divine lyre, speak to me
and become a voice
119.
a handkerchief dripping
120
But I am not one of those with spiteful passions.
I have a gentle heart.
121.
But if I am your friend, choose the bed of someone younger.
For I cannot bear to live with you if I am the older one.
122.
so delicate a girl picking flowers
just now golden-sandaled Dawn
124.
and you yourself, Calliope
125.
I myself used to weave crowns of flowers
126.
May you sleep on the bosom of your gentle companion.
127.
Come here again, Muses, leaving the golden . . .
Come here now, tender Graces and Muses with beautiful hair.
129.
129A.
but you have forgotten me
129B.
or you love another more than me
130.
Once again limb-loosening Love makes me tremble,
that bittersweet, irresistible creature.
131.
But Atthis, it’s become hateful to you to think
of me, and you’ve flown off to Andromeda.
I have a beautiful child who is like golden flowers
in form, my beloved Cleis, for whom
I would not take all of Lydia or lovely . . .
133.
133A.
Andromeda has a fine revenge
133B.
Sappho, why? Aphrodite rich in blessings . . .
134.
I talked with you in a dream, Cyprus-born
135.
Why, Irana, does Pandion’s daughter, the swallow, me . . .
Messenger of spring, the nightingale with a voice of longing
137.
“I want to say something to you, but
shame prevents me . . .”
“But if you had a desire for things that are good or beautiful
and your tongue weren’t busy stirring up evil,
shame would not lower your eyes,
but you would speak about what is just.”
138.
Stand before me, dear one,
and spread forth the grace in your eyes.
139.
the gods . . . quickly, the one without tears
“Delicate Adonis is dying, Cytherea—what should we do?”
“Beat your breasts, girls, and tear your clothes.”
141.
But there a bowl of ambrosia
had been mixed.
And Hermes taking the jug poured wine for the gods.
They all held
drinking-cups
and offered libations and prayed for all good things
for the bridegroom.
142.
Leto and Niobe were beloved companions
143.
. . . and golden chickpeas were growing on the banks
. . . they have had their fill indeed of Gorgo
145.
Don’t move small stones
146.
I want neither the honey nor the bee
147.
Someone, I say, will remember us in time to come
148.
Wealth without virtue is no harmless neighbor,
but a mixture of both brings the height of happiness.
when all night long it pulls them down
150.
It is not right in the house of those serving the Muses
for there to be lamenting. That would not be fitting for us.
151.
and on the eyes the black sleep of night
152.
mingled with all kinds of colors
153.
the virgin with the sweet voice
The moon in its fullness appeared,
and when the women took their places around the altar . . .
155.
I wish the daughter of the house of Polyanax much joy
156.
far more sweet-sounding than a lyre . . .
more golden than gold . . .
157.
. . . Lady Dawn
158.
. . . when anger is swelling in the chest
to guard against the vainly-barking tongue
. . . you and my servant Love
160.
. . . and now for my companions
I will sing these songs beautifully
161.
guard her . . . bridegrooms . . . kings of cities
162.
with what eyes?
163.
my beloved one
she calls her son
165.
That man seems to himself . . .
166.
They say that Leda once found
an egg, hyacinth-colored, covered . . .
167.
. . . far whiter than an egg
168.
Oh, for Adonis
168A.
who loves children more than Gello
The moon has set
and the Pleiades. It’s the middle
of the night and time goes by.
I lie here alone.
168C.
the earth is adorned
with many crowns . . .
169.
I would lead
169A.
wedding gifts
170.
Aiga
innocent
172.
pain-giver
173.
a vine growing up a tree
174.
channel
175.
dawn
176.
lyre
transparent dress
179.
purse
180.
the Holder
181.
fordable
182.
I might go
183.
downrushing
danger
185.
honey-voiced
186.
Medea
187.
of the Muses
188.
weaver of tales
189.
soda
many-skilled
191.
celery
192.
golden-knobbed cups
The Brothers Poem
But you are always chattering that Charaxus is coming
with a full ship. These things, I suppose, Zeus
knows and all the other gods. But you should not
worry about them.
Instead send me and ask me to call on
and make many prayers to Queen Hera
that Charaxus return here,
steering his ship,
and find us safe and sound. Everything else,
all of it, let us leave to the gods.
For fair weather comes quickly
from great storms.
Those to whom the king of Olympus wishes
to send a helpful spirit to banish toils,
these will be happy
and rich in blessings.
And we—if someday his head is freed from labor
and Larichus becomes a gentleman of leisure
—may we be delivered quickly
from great heaviness of heart.
The Cypris Poem
How can a person not be so often distressed,
Queen Cypris, about someone
you want so much to make
your own?