On the throne of many hues, Immortal Aphrodite,
kid of Zeus, weaving wiles: I beg y'all,
do non pause my spirit, O Queen,
with hurting or sorrow
simply come--if ever before from far away
y'all heard my voice and listened,
and leaving your father's
aureate home you lot came,
your chariot yoked with lovely sparrows
drawing you lot quickly over the nighttime world
in a whirling cloud of wings down
the sky through midair,
suddenly here. Blest One, with a grinning
on your deathless face, you ask
what have I suffered once again
and why do I call once again
and what in my wild heart do I most wish
would happen: "Once again who must I
persuade to turn dorsum to your honey?
Sappho, who wrongs y'all?
If now she flees, presently she'll chase.
If rejecting gifts, and so she'll requite.
If not loving, before long she'll honey
even against her will."
Come to me now--release me from these
troubles, everything my heart longs
to take fulfilled, fulfill, and you
be my marry.
Translation by Rayor
Rayor, Diane. Sappho: A New Translation of the Consummate Works, Cambridge Academy Printing, 2014. Introduction & notes by André Lardinois.
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