Selection from Sappho’s Lyre (University of California Press, 1991). Translation copyright 2000 Diane Rayor; all rights reserved.
| On the throne of many hues, Immortal Aphrodite, | |
| child of Zeus, weaving wiles — I beg you | |
| not to subdue my spirit, Queen, | |
| with pain or sorrow | |
| 5 | but come — if ever before |
| having heard my voice from far away | |
| you listened, and leaving your father’s | |
| golden home you came | |
| in your chariot yoked with swift, lovely | |
| 10 | sparrows bringing you over the dark earth |
| thick-feathered wings swirling down | |
| from the sky through mid-air | |
| arriving quickly — you, Blessed One, | |
| with a smile on your unaging face | |
| 15 | asking again what have I suffered |
| and why am I calling again | |
| and in my wild heart what did I most wish | |
| to happen to me: “Again whom must I persuade | |
| back into the harness of your love? | |
| 20 | Sappho, who wrongs you? |
| For if she flees, soon she’ll pursue, | |
| she doesn’t accept gifts, but she’ll give, | |
| if not now loving, soon she’ll love | |
| even against her will.” | |
| 25 | Come to me now again, release me from |
| this pain, everything my spirit longs | |
| to have fulfilled, fulfill, and you | |
| be my ally. |
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