.oOSOo.
For Women: Tears and Joy
[A paraphrase -- after translations of the fragments of Sappho]
She entered my life glowing, mesmerizing,
so lovely in a shining dress from Asia Minor
that flowed to her feet.
My eyes were snared by brilliant hues,
startling and clear,
like iris blossoms.
If I might say so, never will another girl
so deft and clever as you are now
ever see the light of day
in any future yet to come.
I'll celebrate in melodies and songs
your sweetly scented breasts as soft as roses.
I'd wrap you like a bride in tender cambric,
gently, in diaphanous veils
and fine white scarves.
And yes, it's unmistakable to my senses:
sweet siren,
I would love to hold you near.
But will your eyes say "yes" or "no" to me?
I promise as I live and breathe:
my heart will never turn away
from you who are so fair and dear --
forever if you so desire.
How wondrous a sight is the generous and rounded body of Alicia!
Even lovelier by far than sweet Elena, tranquil though she is.
Like unexpected winds that set the oak leaves dancing,
Love explodes within; my spirit shivers.
I burn like crackling cinders in your heat.
My strength escapes me; I'm loose and pliable
as a washcloth damp from scrubbing.
My longing has not vanished -- no,
it's here within where passions stir and shout.
Her face will haunt me evermore --
beautifully glowing and indelible.
I'll walk away alone, unpromised, undesired.
Can you have come to shed my very memory?
I've confided to my mother, "My heart is not in writing;
my arms and hands fall useless -- and Venus is at fault.
Life itself has lost its meaning in my pitiful desire
for the young and fickle woman of my thoughts."
Why is it, when exasperation clouds my vision,
I can't keep my painful, angry words inside?
I'm not malicious by my nature, even so;
my temperament is like a lonely child's.
Days arrive and depart; my efforts fail,
hot hungers spread, I ache and cry.
Anguish is like water dripping, soaking my heart.
Where to turn? My mind divides;
confusion authors every step.
Noon comes, and heat flung fiercely from the sun
bakes earth directly underneath its radiant streaming glare.
Locusts in the garden send up ceaseless rasping rhythms;
high above magnolia trees rise their steady twitching songs.
Why would anyone wish for Love?
He fashions mazes out of words,
the gift He offers splits my soul.
Such sweet and bitter poison -- Love --
I can't resist, control is lost,
my arms and legs are unrestrained,
intoxicated as if by serpent charms.
The Wise Ones say that beauty fills the eye alone,
but goodness warms the heart and soul with peace.
I wait to hear the nightingale's song
to signal Spring has surely come at last.
I search for Eros, prince on earth,
cherished among wise gods in heaven.
I've seen Him glide down from the stars,
dashing off His cape of deepest violet-blue.
On the breeze in the darkness
there rings an echo, fading,
almost out of reach;
down by the stream
lovely water maidens splash and laugh.
We had an evening together I'll never forget.
Believe me, I've prayed it could be multiplied endlessly.
Oh star of evening --
you came peaceful before all others.
Soon a rising moon quite sharp and ample
shone down on nymphs around a shrine in intimacy.
Young girls from Crete who stepped and swayed
in rhythm to the songs of life
stamped circles on the flowering lawn
with tender steps I loved to watch,
and voices sweet as nectar.
Now songs are done, and day draws near;
we'll leave with night's last blessing.
You're tired and spent, and wanting sleep,
so darkness calls hypnotically.
Respectful of her glistening face so round,
the nearby stars will hide their eyes,
and the moon will proudly cast her silver rays
unchallenged on the grateful earth.
Then quietly moving past my slumber
Dawn in golden sandals wakes me
gently with the faintest kiss.
Oh, Aphrodite,
I'm concerned I'll lose her now;
I've rushed to you as in the past
like a child who needs his mother's arms.
Asleep in bed at night
I've dreamt you whispering,
Goddess of Love and Beauty!
We spoke together in riddles:
"Isn't there something more harmonious than a harp,
more dazzling than gold,
more plush than ever velvet was,
and freer than the whitest egg of any stain?"
Visions that I'll always treasure came:
the tiny girl so meek who gathered flower buds,
and waves of slender tawny rushes
rooted at the ocean's edge in sand.
Helplessly they watch Adonis as he dies.
"Oh Venus! Could we save him? Won't you intervene?"
Young women everywhere have ripped their clothing,
and pound upon their breasts in tears of grief.
They wander home, and as they pass I call their names.
"Lovely girls, we'll keep our memories until the end;
you'll stop in days to come and reminisce
on splendid youthful games and smiles
we shared together, innocently bewitching one another,
laughing nervously as we caressed in love.
You're leaving now, so I must tell you each goodbye;
but how my heart will break alone without you.
Travel safe, and rest your head in sleep against the breasts
of tender girlfriends, dear and sweet to you.
Speak like angels in the clouds, soothingly,
and opening your gentle arms, be comforted;
for love must never be denied to ones
so beautifully enticing as you are."
This play of ours must end somewhere,
just as the moon must disappear--
and in the dark the stage is altered,
constellations change, I sleep alone.
These words I speak are only air in motion,
but living thoughts can never taste of death.
Though you'll forget,
and wonder if oblivion must reign,
I know the future holds a place for us;
and someday lovers distant ages hence
will sink into our raptures once again,
remembering our passions:
Tender, Secret Loves.
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