Untitled Lyric by Sappho

Untitled Lyric by Sappho

[Text of the poem in the original Greek]

[Prose translation by David A. Campbell]

Hither to me from Crete to this holy temple, where is your delightful grove of apple-trees, and altars smoking with incense; therein cold water babbles through apple-branches, and the whole place is shadowed by roses, and from the shimmering leaves the sleep of enchantment comes down; therein too a meadow, where horses graze, blossoms with spring flowers, and the winds blow gently . . .; there, Cypris, take . . . and pour gracefully into golden cups nectar that is mingled with our festivities.

Source of the text in Greek and prose translation - Greek Lyric with an English Translation by David A. Campbell, Volume I: Sappho Alcaeus.  Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982, p. 56-57.

[Translation by Mary Barnard]

You know the place: then

Leave Crete and come to us

waiting where the grove is

pleasantest, by precincts

sacred to you; incense

smokes on the altar, cold

streams murmur through the

apple branches, a young

rose thicket shades the ground

and quivering leaves pour

down deep sleep; in meadows

where horses have grown sleek

among spring flowers, dill

scents the air. Queen! Cyprian!

Fill our gold cups with love

stirred into clear nectar

Source of the text – Mary Barnard, Sappho: A New Translation.  Berkeley: University of California Press, 1958.

[Translation by Anne Carson]

]

here to me from Krete to this holy temple

where is your graceful grove

of apple trees and altars smoking

            with frankincense.

And in it cold water makes a clear sound through

apple branches and with roses the whole place

is shadowed and down from radiant-shaking leaves

            sleep comes dropping.

And in it a horse meadow has come into bloom

with spring flowers and breezes

like honey are blowing

            [                     ]

In this place you Kypris taking up

in gold cups delicately

nectar mingled with festivities:

            pour.

Source of the text – Anne Carson, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho.  New York: Alfred A. Knopf: distributed by Random House, 2002.

[Translation by Willis Barnstone]

Afroditi of the Flowers at Knossos

Leave Kriti and come here to this holy

temple with your graceful grove

of apple trees and altars smoking

             with frankincense.

Icy water babbles through apple bracnehs

and roses leave shadow on the ground

and bright shaking leaves pour down

             profound sleep.

Here is a meadow where horses graze

amid wild blossoms of the spring and soft winds

             blow aroma

of honey. Afroditi, take the nectar

and delicately pour it into gold

wine cups and mingle joy with

             our celebration.

Source of the text – The Complete Poems of Sappho, translated by Willis Barnstone.  Boston: Shambhala Publications, Inc., 2009.

TJB: Booty call? Sappho qua priestess puts the come-hither on Aphrodite, tempting her with springtime sights, sounds, & smells of Sappho’s hood.