Atthis: a Sapphic Ode 2
(Hardly anything is known about Sappho, but no-one seriously
doubts her greatness as a poet. She lived on the Greek island
of Lesbos (hence “Lesbian”) in the seventh century BC. All that
has survived of her work is a scattering of scraps, but even this
meagre evidence establishes her as one of the foremost poets
of all time.)
II.
Love comes from the sun,
and we must praise our bright god
by loving vehemently,
partaking of his quiet strength -
this is my belief.
It is time now,
as you lie golden at my side,
time to play the game,
you who are so lovely,
the game that Aphrodite gave us.
III.
I love you at the height of the day,
when sage scrub crackles,
when even rocks glitter,
and the flames of the sun-god
drive living things under cover.
I love you when the shy cicada
strikes up his rasping song
among the barely-breathing trees.
I delight to see a handsome girl
relishing her own beauty.
It becomes you, Atthis,
to sing the sweet hymn
of your own allure.
The gods will favour you
for celebrating what you are
and knowing your own worth.
IV.
There is no-one you need be jealous of.
Hero is an athlete, but she lacks
your softness. Gyrinno knows
how to love, but not love itself.
Mnasidica brings the gift of laughter,
beautiful but clumsy - but you have grace.
Timas is no more.
This scarf is all I have of her.
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