POEMS
OF SAPPHO
TRANSLATED
BY JULIA DUBNOFF
1
Immortal
Aphrodite, on your intricately brocaded throne,[1]
child
of Zeus, weaver of wiles, this I pray:
Dear
Lady, don’t crush my heart
with
pains and sorrows.
5 But come here,
if ever before,
when
you heard my far-off cry,
you
listened. And you came,
leaving
your father’s house,
yoking
your chariot of gold.
10 Then beautiful swift
sparrows led you over the black earth
from
the sky through the middle air,
whirling
their wings into a blur.
Rapidly
they came. And you, O Blessed Goddess,
a
smile on your immortal face,
15 asked what had happened
this time,
why
did I call again,
and
what did I especially desire
for
myself in my frenzied heart:
“Who
this time am I to persuade
20 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.”
25 Come to me now once again
and release me
from
grueling anxiety.
All
that my heart longs for,
fulfill.
And be yourself my ally in love’s battle.
16
Some
say an army of horsemen,
some
of footsoldiers, some of ships,
is
the fairest thing on the black earth,
but
I say it is what one loves.
5 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,
10 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]...
15 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
20 their footsoldiers in arms.
31
That
man to me seems equal to the gods,
the
man who sits opposite you
and
close by listens
to
your sweet voice
5 and your
enticing laughter—
that
indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast.
For
whenever I look at you even briefly
I
can no longer say a single thing,
but
my tongue is frozen in silence;
10 instantly a delicate flame
runs beneath my skin;
with
my eyes I see nothing;
my
ears make a whirring noise.
A
cold sweat covers me,
trembling
seizes my body,
15 and I am greener than
grass.
Lacking
but little of death do I seem.
sapphic
fragments
1
Come now, luxuriant
Graces, and beautiful-haired Muses.
2
I tell you
someone will remember us
in the future.
3
Now, I shall sing these
songs
Beautifully
for my companions.
4
The moon shone full
And when the maidens stood
around the altar...
5
“He is dying,
Aphrodite;
luxuriant Adonis is dying.
What should we do?”
“Beat your breasts,
young maidens.
And tear your garments
in grief.”
6
O, weep for Adonis!
7
But come, dear companions,
For day is near.
8
The moon is set. And the
Pleiades.
It’s
the middle of the night.
Time
[hôrâ]
passes.
But I sleep alone.
9
I love the sensual.
For me this
and love for the sun
has a share in brilliance
and beauty
10
I desire
And I crave.
11
You set me on fire.
12
A servant
of wile-weaving
Aphrodite...
13
Eros
Giver of pain...
14
Eros
Coming from heaven
throwing off
his purple cloak.
15
Again love, the
limb-loosener, rattles me
bittersweet,
irresistible,
a crawling beast.
16
As a wind in the mountains
assaults an oak,
Love shook my breast.
17
I loved you, Atthis, long
ago
even when you seemed to me
a small graceless child.
18
But you hate the very
thought of me, Atthis,
And you flutter after
Andromeda.
19
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.”
20
They say that Leda once
found
an egg—
like a hyacinth.
21
“Virginity,
virginity
Where will you go when
you’ve left me?”
“I’ll never
come back to you , bride,
I’ll never come back
to you.”
22
Sweet mother, I
can’t do my weaving—
Aphrodite has crushed me
with desire
for a tender youth.
23
Like a sweet-apple
turning red
high
on the tip
of the topmost branch.
Forgotten by pickers.
Not forgotten—
they couldn’t reach
it.
24
Like a hyacinth
in the mountains
that shepherds crush underfoot.
Even on the ground
a purple flower.
25
To what shall I compare
you, dear bridegroom?
To a slender shoot, I most
liken you.
26
[Sappho compared the girl
to an apple....she compared the bridegroom to Achilles, and likened the young
man’s deeds to the hero’s.]
Himerius
(4th cent. A.D.), Or. 1.16
27
Raise high the roofbeams,
carpenters!
Hymenaon, Sing the wedding song!
Up with them!
Hymenaon, Sing the wedding song!
A bridegroom taller than
Ares!
Hymenaon, Sing the wedding song!
Taller than a tall man!
Hymenaon, Sing the wedding song!
Superior as the singer of
Lesbos—
Hymenaon, Sing the wedding song!
—to poets of other
lands.
Hymenaon!
28
The Marriage of Hektor and
Andromakhe
...Cyprus...
...The herald Idaios came...a swift messenger
...and the rest of Asia...unwilting glory (kleos aphthiton).
Hektor and his companions
led the dark-eyed
luxuriant Andromakhe from
holy Thebes and...Plakia
in ships upon the salty
sea. Many golden bracelets and purple
robes...,
intricately-worked ornaments,
countless silver cups and
ivory.
Thus he spoke. And his
dear father quickly leapt up.
And the story went to his
friends through the broad city.
And the Trojans joined
mules to smooth-running carriages.
And the whole band of
women and...maidens got on.
Separately, the daughters
of Priam...
And the unmarried men led
horses beneath the chariots
and
greatly...charioteers...
...like
gods
...holy
set forth into Troy...
And the sweet song of the
flute mixed...
And the sound of the
cymbals, and then the maidens
sang in clear tones a
sacred song
and a divinely-sweet echo
reached the sky...
And everywhere through the
streets...
Mixing bowls and cups...
And myrrh and cassia and
frankincense were mingled.
And the older women wailed
aloud.
And all the men gave forth
a high-pitched song,
calling on Apollo, the
far-shooter, skilled in the lyre.
And they sang of Hektor
and Andromakhe like to the gods.
29
Blessed bridegroom,
The marriage is
accomplished as you prayed.
You have the maiden you
prayed for.
30
I don’t know what to
do: I am of two minds.
31
For gold is Zeus’
child.
32
I have a beautiful
daughter
Like a golden flower
My beloved Kleis.
I would not trade her for
all Lydia nor lovely...
33
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,
a shade amidst the shadowy
dead.
34
Death is an evil.
That’s what the gods
think.
Or they would die.
35
Because you are dear to me
Marry a younger woman.
I don’t dare live
with a young man—
I’m older.
KEY
PASSAGES RELEVANT TO THE POETICS OF SAPPHO
TRANSLATED
BY GREGORY NAGY
1. And they passed by
the streams of Okeanos and the White Rock
and
past the Gates of the Sun and the District of Dreams.
Odyssey 24.11-12
2. ...they
say that Sappho was the first,
hunting
down the proud Phaon,
to
throw herself, in her goading desire, from the rock
that
shines from afar.
But
now, in accordance with your sacred utterance,
lord
king, let there be silence
throughout
the sacred precinct of the headland of the White Rock.
Menander
F 258K
3. One more time taking
off in the air, down from the White Rock
into
the dark waves do I dive, intoxicated with lust.
Anacreon
PMG 376
4. I
would be crazy not to give all the herds of the Cyclopes
in
return for drinking one cup [of that wine]
and
throwing myself from the white rock into the brine,
once
I am intoxicated, with eyebrows relaxed.
Whoever
is not happy when he drinks is crazy.
Where
it is allowed to make this thing stand up erect,
to
grab the breast and touch with both hands
the
meadow[2] that is made all ready. And there is
dancing
and
forgetting [root lêth-]
of bad things.
Euripides
Cyclops 163-172
5. Related sources (summaries
and commentary by G.N.): According to the account in Book VII of the
mythographer Ptolemaios Chennos (ca. A.D. 100; by way of Photius Bibliotheca 152-153 Bekker), the first to dive off
the heights of Cape Leukas, the most famous localization of the White Rock, was
none other than Aphrodite herself, out of love for a dead Adonis. After Adonis
died (how it happened is not said), the mourning Aphrodite went off searching
for him and finally found him at ‘Cypriote Argos’, in a shrine of
Apollo. She consults Apollo, who instructs her to seek relief from her love by
jumping off the white rock of Leukas, where Zeus sits whenever he wants relief
from his passion for Hera. Then Ptolemaios launches into a veritable catalogue
of other figures who followed Aphrodite’s precedent and took a ritual plunge
as a cure for love. For example, Queen Artemisia I is reputed to have leapt off
the white rock out of love for one Dardanos, succeeding only in getting herself
killed. Several others are mentioned who died from the leap, including a
certain iambographer Charinos who expired only after being fished out of the
water with a broken leg, but not before blurting out his four last iambic
trimeters, painfully preserved for us with the compliments of Ptolemaios (and
Photius as well). Someone called Makês was more fortunate: having
succeeded in escaping from four love affairs after four corresponding leaps
from the white rock, he earned the epithet Leukopetrâs ‘the one of
the white rock’. We may question the degree of historicity in such accounts.
There is, however, a more important concern. In the lengthy and detailed
account of Ptolemaios, Sappho is not mentioned at all, let alone Phaon.
From
this silence we may infer that the source of this myth about Aphrodite and
Adonis is independent of Sappho’s own poetry or of later distortions
based on it. Accordingly, the ancient cult practice at Cape Leukas, as
described by Strabo (10.2.9 C452), may well contain some intrinsic element that
inspired lovers’ leaps, a practice also noted by Strabo (ibid.). The second practice seems to be
derived from the first, as we might expect from a priestly institution that
becomes independent of the social context that had engendered it. Abstracted
from their inherited tribal functions, religious institutions have a way of
becoming mystical organizations.
Another
reason for doubting that Sappho’s poetry had been the inspiration for the
lovers’ leaps at Cape Leukas is the attitude of Strabo himself. He
specifically disclaims Menander’s version about Sappho’s being the
first to take the plunge at Leukas. Instead, he offers a version of
“those more versed in the ancient lore,” according to which
Kephalos son of Deioneus was the very first to have leapt, impelled by love for
Pterelas (Strabo 10.2.9 C452). The myth of Kephalos and his dive may be as old
as the concept of the White Rock. I say “concept” because the
ritual practice of casting victims from a white rock may be an inheritance
parallel to the epic tradition about a mythical White Rock on the shores of the
Okeanos (as in Odyssey
24.11) and the related literary theme of diving from an imaginary White Rock
(as in the poetry of Anacreon and Euripides). In other words, it is needless to
assume that the ritual preceded the myth or the other way around.
6. Others
say that, in the vicinity of the rocks at Athenian Kolonos, he
[Poseidon],
falling asleep, had an emission of semen, and a horse
Skuphios came out, who is also called
Skîrônîtês [‘the one of the White Rock’].
Scholia
to Lycophron 766
7.
Poseidon
Petraios [‘of
the rocks’] has a cult among the Thessalians...because he, having fallen
asleep at some rock, had an emission of semen; and the earth, receiving the
semen, produced the first horse, whom they called Skuphios....And they say that there was a
festival established in worship of Poseidon Petraios at the spot where the first horse leapt
forth.
Scholia to Pindar Pythian 4.246
8. But
I love luxuriance [(h)abrosunê]...this,
and
lust for the sun has won me brightness and beauty.[3]
Sappho F 58.25-26 V