the poems of
Sappho designed by Rifka Handelman
Preface Sappho was a Greek poet who lived around the years 630 – 570 B.C.E. Known as “the lesbian poet,” her name, and her home island of Lesbos, are where we get the words “sapphic” and “lesbian,” respectively. Her poetry, written originally in Ancient Greek, is lyric poetry—written to be sung and accompanied by a lyre. Those that survive are written in Aeolian verse. Most of Sappho’s surviving poetry is in fragments, with a few exceptions. She was renowned by scholars, and most fragments come from scholars whose works quoted pieces of her poems. I have numbered these fragments to emphasize their individuality in this zine, not to denote anything else. Not much is known about Sappho’s life, and much of what is known is possibly fictionalized in her poetry and may not be accurate. She lived in the port city of Mytilene, on Lesbos; the names of her parents are unknown; it is possible she had a daughter named Cleis. Despite her reknown and the many translations that have been made of her work up till the modern day, Sappho is somewhat of a mysterious figure. Further, it is not known what Sappho looks like. The depictions of her in this zine are all from the artists’ imaginations—many of which were shaped by western European society. Being from Greece, and being human, it is possible that depictions of Sappho with perfectly beautiful typicalwestern European features, are incorrect. I include them not to make a claim on their accuracy, but because I found that they made beautiful additions to this zine. Sappho was probably gay by modern standards. Both her poetry and stories about her depict many love affairs with women. Whether she also had love affairs with men is not clear—a society that considers heterosexuality the default inexorably colors any surviving portrayal. Many visual depictions of Sappho are of her throwing herself off a cliff for love of Phaon, a man. Some much older translations of her poetry have made the objects of her affection into men. Perhaps Sappho did fall in love with men. If you’re curious, you can read a lot more about this online. As a lesbian myself, I believe Sappho was a lesbian, because I want to, and that is the point of view I took as a designer. The purple flowers used throughout this book are a reference to violets, the “lesbian flower.” Most are not actually violets, as there were limited images available, and I quite liked the other species of flower. Sappho is commonly associated with violets, and in the early 20th century, women who loved other women would give one another violets as signs of affection. If you’d like to read more of Sappho’s poetry, I recommend the translation by Anne Carson.
Personal Note In recent years, and especially on the Internet, the LGBTQ+ community has been divided. While I will not attempt to restrict anyone’s right to read this zine, please know the following: Transgender people, whether they are men, women, or neither, deserve the same level of love, support and acceptance that all other human beings do, as do disabled, neurodivergent, and LGBTQ+ people of color. Their identities, beliefs, and experiences hold weight and should be treated with respect. People within the queer community who do not believe this should not be tolerated. 2
Note on Licensing The challenge I set myself for this zine was to use works exclusively in the public domain, from Wikimedia Commons. As such, this poetry was translated by men, because the translations in the public domain are only by men. With the exception of poems 2 and 6, which were translated by John Herman Merivale and J. M. Edmonds respectively, the poems in this zine were translated by Edwin Marion Cox. If you’re inspired by this, there are many translations by women that likely are translated differently. Futhermore, in years since the early 20th century new Sappho poems have been discovered, and you can read translations of those in more recent additions. Images used in this zine, including the flower illustrations, were all also found on Wikimedia Commons, and are in the public domain. They are from a variety of sources, but many of the floral illustrations are by Mary Vaux Walcott. Eternal thanks to the Wikimedia volunteers who put their time and energy into archiving, categorizing, and preserving works of art and information.
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1 Shimmering-throned immortal Aphrodite, Daughter of Zeus, Enchantress, I implore thee, Ποικι Spare me, O Queen, this agony and λόanguish, θρον᾽ ἀθάνατ᾽ Ἀφρόδιτ α, παῖ Δίος, δολόπλοκε, λίσ Crush not my spirit. σομαί σε μή μ᾽ ἄσαισι μήτ᾽ ὀνία ισι λάμνα, πότνια, θῦμον. Whenever before thou hast hearkened to me— To my voice calling to theeἀλ inλὰ theτυdistance, ίδ᾽ ἔλθ᾽, αἴποτὰ κἀτέρω τα τᾶς ἔμthy And heeding, thou hast come, leaving father’s ας aύ δως αἴοισα πήλυι ἔκλυες πάτρος δὲ δόμο Golden dominions, ν λίποισα χρύσιον ἦλθες With chariot yoked to thy fleet-winged coursers, ἄρμ᾽ ὐποζdarkness, Fluttering swift pinions over earth’s εύξαισα, κάλοι δέ σ᾽ ἆγ ον ὦκεεinfinite, ς στροῦθ And bringing thee through the gliding οι περὶ γᾶς μελαίνας πύκνheaven, α δινεῦντες πτέρ᾽ ἀπ᾽ Downwards from ὠράνω αἴθε-ρος διὰ μέσσω. Then, soon they arrived and thou, blessed goddess, αῖψα δ᾽ didst With divine countenance smiling, ask ἐξίκοντ ο,me σὺ δ᾽, ὦ μάκαιρα, ιδιά What new woe had befallenμε me now σαισand ᾽ ἀθwhy, ανάτῳ προσώπῳ, ε᾽ ὄττι δηὖτε πέπονθα Thus I had calledἤρthee. κὤττι δηὖτε κάλημι, What in my mad heart was my greatest desire, ι μοallurements, Who was it now that must κὤ feelττmy ι μάλιστα θέλω γένεσθ αι μαινόbe Who was the fair one that must λᾳ persuaded, θύμῳ, τίνα δηὖτε πείθω μαῖςSappho? ἄγην ἐς σὰν φιλότατα Who wronged thee τίς τ, ὦ Ψάπφ᾽, ἀδίκηει; For if now she flees, quickly she shall follow ὶ γὰρshe And if she spurns gifts, soonκαshall offer them, αἰ φε ύγει, ταχέως διώξει, δὲ δῶ Yea, if she knows not love,αἰsoon shall sheδέ feel ρα μὴ κετitἀλλὰ δώσει, αἰ δὲ Even reluctant. μὴ φίλει ταχέως φιλήσε ι κωὐκ ἐθέλοισα Come then, I pray, grant me surcease from sorrow, ἔλθε thee, μοι καOὶ νῦ Drive away care, I beseech goddess ν, χαλεπᾶν δὲ λῦσον ἐκ μεto ρίμν Fulfil for me what I yearn accomplish, αν, ὄσσα δέ μοι τέλεσσ αι ς ἰμμέρρει τέλεσον, σὐ Be thou θῦ myμοally. δ᾽ αὔτα σύμμαχος ἔσσο.
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2 Blest as the immortal gods is he, The youth whose eyes may look on thee, Whose ears thy tongue’s sweet melody May still devour. Thou smilest too?—sweet smile whose charm Has struck my soul with wild alarm, And when I see thee bids disarm Each vital power. Speechless I gaze; the flame within Runs swift o’er all my quivering skin, My eyeballs swim; with dizzy din My brain reels round And cold drops fall; and tremblings frail Seize every limb; and grassy pale I grow; and then together fail Both sight and sound.
3 Come rosy-armed Graces, virgin daughters of Zeus. 5
4 The gleaming stars all about the shining moon Hide their bright faces, when full-orbed and splendid In the sky she floats, flooding the shadowed earth with clear silver light.
5 By the cool water the breeze murmurs, rustling Through apple branches, while from quivering leaves Streams down deep slumber.
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6 A troop of horse, the serried ranks of marchers, A noble fleet, some think these of all on earth Most beautiful. For me naught else regarding Is my beloved. To understand this is for all most simple, For thus gazing much on mortal perfection And knowing already what life could give her, Him chose fair Helen, Him the betrayer of Ilium’s honour. Then recked she not of adored child or parent, But yielded to love, and forced by her passion, Dared Fate in exile. Thus quickly is bent the will of that woman To whom things near and dear seem to be nothing. So mightest thou fail, My Anactoria, If she were with you. She whose gentle footfall and radiant face Hold the power to charm more than a vision Of chariots and the mail-clad battalions of Lydia’s army. So must we learn in a world made as this one Man can never attain his greatest desire, [But must pray for what good fortune Fate holdeth, Never unmindful.]
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7 Now Love, the ineluctable, with bitter sweetness Fills me, overwhelms me, and shakes my being.
8 With rosy cheeks and glancing eyes and voices sweet as honey.
9 Turn to me, dear one, turn thy face, And unveil for me in thine eyes, their grace.
10
No maiden, I think, mor e wise than thou Shall ever see the sun.
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11 Forever shalt thou lie dead, nor shall there be any remembrance of thee now or hereafter, for never hast thou had any of the roses of Pieria; but thou shalt wander, eternally unregarded in the houses of Hades, flitting among the insubstantial shades.
θεν κωὐ μναμοσύνα σέ , τα πό ι εα ίσ κε δὲ ις βρόδων Κατθάνοισα ρον. οὐ γὰρ πεδέχε τε ὔσ τ᾽ οὔ τ᾽ τό τε ἔσσετ᾽ οὔ α δόμοις λ᾽ ἀφάνης κἠν᾽ Ἀῖδ να. τῶν ἐκ Πιερίας, ἀλ νέκυων ἐκπεποταμέ ν ρω αύ ἀμ δ᾽ πε ις φοιτάσε
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12
Thou and my servant, Eros.
13 Far sweeter than the throbbing lyre in sound, A voice more golden than gold, new found.
14 I love refinement and for me Love has the splendour and beauty of the sun.
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15 name, A fair daughter have I, Cleis by to me. Like a golden flower she seems I love, Far more than all Lydia, her do sea. Or Lesbos shimmering in the
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16Σὺ δὲ στεφά
ις ρπακ thyνοlovely Do thou, O Dica, set garlandsὄupon ας άν , ω Δhair, ίκ ἐ υ ή άνθdelicate τοιο α, περθέσ weaving sprigs of dill μwith thy hands; ε σ σ θ᾽ ἐρ ιν ἒκ υν ρ ᾶλλο άταις γὰeven ν stand αιpresence for those who wear fair blossoms may surely ρ πέλin ῤthe προτ first, σ ᾽ φ ἀ π έρην, ε ά τ λ α αισι χ όβαισιν, ι καὶ of Goddesses who look without favour upon those whoἀσcome . τεφαungarlanded χ νώτο άριτος μ έρσιν, ισι δ᾽ α ἀπυσ καιρᾶν τρέφ οντα ι.
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Now rose the m oon, full and ar While round st gentine, ood the maiden s, as at a shrine.
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σιν ς πόδεσ ω έ λ ε μ Thus sometimes, the Creta ᾽ ἐμ μον n women, tender footed ποτ᾽ ὦδ φ᾽ ερόεντα βῶ ύ ν ι , da α nc e σ in mσea re round the fair altar, crus ἀμ σαι. hing the fine bloom of th Κρή su ἀπάλοις άλακον μάτει ᾽ τ ν ῦ e gras ε s. χ μ ὠρ ος ρεν ἄνθ πόας τέ
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Sappho, why w orship
most happy Ap h
rodite?
20 Maidens, though I am dumb, yet thus I speak, if any ask and place at your feet one with an untiring voice: To Aethopia the daughter of Leto was I consecrated by Arista, daughter of Hermocleides Saonaiades, thy servant, O queen of women; whom mayest thou bless and deign to glorify our house.
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21
. ce long ago n o , is h tt A I loved thee
But to thee, Att his
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, the thought o f me is hateful; thou fliest to Andromeda.
23 re Andromeda has a fair
ward.
Sleep thou, in
24 the bosom of thy sweetheart . 13
In m y
drea m, I
25
spok e
to th e
Cypr ian g o
ddes s.
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She wrapped hersel f
well in gossamer ga rments.
27 Come, O come, divinest shell, And in my ear all thy secrets tell.
28 My sweet mother! Fair Aphrodite’s spell Has from me sense and reason all bereft, And, yearning for that dear beloved youth, No longer can I see the warp or weft. 14
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inno. ca, than gentle Gyr di si na M is y el ap More sh
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31
Calliope. And thou thyself,
Towering like the sin ger
Lato and Nio be were mo
st dear frien ds.
32 of Lesbos among m en of other lands.
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t. ner, I taugh
ift run ara, that sw y G f o o r e H
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please skilfully to g in s w o n This will I
. my friends
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35 Hail, gentle Evening, that bringest back All things that bright morning hath beguiled. Thou bringest the lamb, thou bringest the kid, And to its mother, her drowsy child.
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The sinking m oon has left th e sky, The Pleiades h av e a ls o gone. Midnight com es—and goes, th e hours fly And solitary st ill, I lie.
Coming
from he
37
aven, cl ad
in a pur
ple man t
le.
38 And dark-eyed Sleep, child of Night.
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Πάρθενον ἀδύφωνον .
39
den. A sweet-voiced mai
40 Now like a mountain wind the oaks o’erwhelming, Eros shakes my soul.
A most te
41
nder maid
en gather
42
ing flowe rs.
I yearn and I seek.
43
ir face. ds over her fa a re sp n io ss expre And a sweet
44 May I win this prize, O golden-crowned Aphrodite. 17
45
But the spirit within them turned chi
ll and down dropped their wings.
46 Thou forgettest me.
47 r Or lovest anothe
me. more than you do
48
s, ind m two o. e v d I ha hat to , m t I a not w b u o ow In d I kn
49 You are nought to me. While you will.
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ver thee, O Eranna, I have ne One more scornful than 18
found.
51 Raise high the roof beams, Workmen! Hymenaeus! es the bridegroom! com Like Ares Hymenaeus! Taller far than all tall men! Hymenaeus!
52 Thou happy bridegroom! Now has daw ned That day of days supreme, When in thine arms thou’lt hold at last The maiden of thy dream.
53 The bride comes rejoicing, let the bridegroom also rejoice.
54 Hail bride, and all hail! noble bridegroom.
55
, dear bridegroom? To what may I liken thee ay I liken thee. Best to a tender shoot m
56 Hail bride, and all hail! noble bridegroom.
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For, like her, O bridegroo m
, there was no other maid
en.
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58
om to wh e e h t For
st. e mo h t e tm rmes a h u tho ood, g o d I
But up
60 nds bear it and
on a
soft
59
cus hio nI
way. a e r a all c
i ng w
uffeti b t e l :
ss distre y m From
61 Foolish woman! Have no pride about a ring.
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disp
ose
my li
mb s.
62 Ever shall I be a maid.
63
Do I still long
for maidenho od
?
64 Maidenhood, maidenhood, whither art thou gone from me? Never, O, never again, shall I return to thee.
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65
Gentle Adonis wou nded lies, dying, dy ing. What message, O C ythera, dost thou se Beat, beat your whi nd? te breasts, O ye wee ping maidens, And in wild grief yo ur mourning garm ents rend.
66
O for Ad
onis.
67 Here rests the dust of Timas who, unwed, Passed the dark portals of Persephone. With sharpened metal, when her spirit fled, Her mourning friends each shore her fair-tressed head.
68 Then sweet maidens wove garlands. 22
69 Ο ἄκρ ἶον τ οὐ ον ἐ ὸ γλ υ μὰ π ν ἐ ᾽ ἀκ κύμα κλ ελά ροτάτ λον ἐ ρ θο ῳ, ν τ᾽ λ ε λ ε ύ θ ε , ἀλ άθ ται λ᾽ οντ ἄκρ οὐκ ο δ ῳ ἐ ἐδύ ὲ μα π᾽ ὔ ναν λοδ σδ ῳ ρ τ᾽ ἐπί όπηε κεσ ς, θα ι.
At the end of the bough—its uttermost end, Missed by the harvesters, ripens the apple, Nay, not overlooked, but far out of their reach, So with all best things.
Οἴαν τὰν ὐἀκινθον ἐν οὔρεσι ποίμενες ἄνδρες πόσσι καταστείβοισι, χάμαι δ᾽ ἐπιπορφύρει ἄνθος.
70 O’er the hills the heedless shepherd, Heavy footed, plods his way; Crushed behind him lies the larkspur, Soon empurpling in decay.
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71 Her shining ankles clad in fairest fashion In broidered leather from the realm of Lydia, Ὤς δὲ παῖς πέδα μάτερα πεπτερύγωμαι. So came the Goddess.
72 Come hither foam-born Cyprian goddess, come, And in golden goblets pour richest nectar All mixed in most ethereal perfecton, Thus to delight us.
73 So, like a child after its mother, I flutter.
74 The messenger of Spring, the sweet-voiced nightingale.
Ἦρος ἄ γγ
ελος ἰμε ρόφωνο
ς ἀήδων .
75 The handmaiden of Aphrodite, shining like gold.
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76 ired Muses. Come now gentle Graces, and fair-ha
77 What rustic girl bewitches thee, Who cannot even draw her garments neat as they should be, Her ankles roundabout?
78 Hither now, ye Muses, leaving golden surroundings.
79 For if thou lovest us, Choose another and a younger spouse; for I will not endure to live with thee, Old woman with young man. 25
80 Μνάσεσθαί τινά φαμι καὶ ὔστερον ἀμμέων.
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80 I think men will remember us even hereafter.
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