SAPPHO
(Lobel-Page 58 – Σαπφώ – English translation)
] no [
] I pray [
] now let there be good cheer [
] beneath the earth may surround with
Great renown, having the Muses' gift as it seems,
Altogether at me they may marvel, as now on earth I am;
They call me swallow-sweet, whenever taking up my lyre –
Either an eight-string or the tortoise shell – at weddings I sing.
] fleeing [
] stung [
] [gods but⠀⠀⠀every one]
] [earth
indeed she] [who takes your name
set] the mouth to its progress.
All of you: after the violet-girdled Muses' fine gifts, children,
Make haste, and after that shrill song-loving lyre.
My tender – once long ago it was – skin, old age now
Has seized; white my hair has turned from black.
Heavy my soul has been made, my knees don't carry,
Which back then were as nimble to caper as fawns.
These indeed I lament often. But what could I do?
Ageless, being mortal, one can't possibly become.
And for once Tithonus, they say, rosy-armed Eos –
Love-impelled – did go to the ends of earth bringing, him
Being beautiful and young; but nonetheless he was seized
At length by grey age, having an immortal for a spouse.
Whisper-weaving, guileful word-worker,
Scheming child whom life [
Companion – I slink away: [
]
] breathless [
Light of stars, along with the brilliance
] the blazing Sun's brilliance
] everything I hear: [lament
] Oeagrus' son Orpheus [
] crawling beasts all [
] my lovely [
Good-sounding lyre [
Collaborator taking all [
indeed would] believe
sacred] may grant
Yet I do love splendour; this, and for me, the
Brightness of sun – beauty, too – my love has won.