These are translations of ancient Greek epigrams by Michael R. Burch. The ancient Greek poets translated include female poets like Anyte, Erinna, Nossis and Sappho, as well as famous male poets like Aeschylus, Anacreon, Antipater of Sidon, Callimachus, Glaucus, Homer, Ibykos, Leonidas of Tarentum, Plato, Simonides, Sophocles
How valiant he lies tonight: great is his Monument!
Yet Ares cares not, neither does War relent.
by Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here he lies in state tonight: great is his Monument!
Yet Ares cares not, neither does War relent.
by Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yes, bring me Homer's lyre, no doubt,
but first yank the bloodstained strings out!
by Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here we find Anacreon,
an elderly lover of boys and wine.
His harp still sings in lonely Acheron
as he thinks of the lads he left behind...
by Anacreon or the Anacreontea, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mariner, do not ask whose tomb this may be,
But go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea.
Michael R. Burch, after Plato
Passerby,
Tell the Spartans we lie
Lifeless at Thermopylae:
Dead at their word,
Obedient to their command.
Have they heard?
Do they understand?
Michael R. Burch, after Simonides
Does my soul abide in heaven, or hell?
Only the sea gulls in their high, lonely circuits may tell.
Michael R. Burch, after Glaucus
They observed our fearful fetters,
braved the overwhelming darkness.
Now we extol their excellence:
bravely, they died for us.
Michael R. Burch, after Mnasalcas
Blame not the gale, nor the inhospitable sea-gulf, nor friends' tardiness,
Mariner! Just man's foolhardiness.
Michael R. Burch, after Leonidas of Tarentum
Be ashamed, O mountains and seas:
that these valorous men lack breath.
Assume, like pale chattels,
an ashen silence at death.
Michael R. Burch, after Parmenio
These men earned a crown of imperishable glory,
Nor did the maelstrom of death obscure their story.
Michael R. Burch, after Simonides
Stranger, flee!
But may Fortune grant you all the prosperity
she denied me.
Michael R. Burch, after Leonidas of Tarentum
Everywhere the sea is the sea, the dead are the dead.
What difference to me?where I rest my head?
The sea knows I'm buried.
Michael R. Burch, after Antipater of Sidon
I lie by stark Icarian rocks
and only speak when the sea talks.
Please tell my dear father that I gave up the ghost
on the Aegean coast.
Michael R. Burch, after Theaetetus
Here I lie dead and sea-enclosed Cyzicus shrouds my bones.
Faretheewell, O my adoptive land that reared and nurtured me;
once again I take rest at your breast.
Michael R. Burch, after Erycius
I am loyal to you master, even in the grave:
Just as you now are death's slave.
Michael R. Burch, after Dioscorides
Stripped of her stripling, if asked, she'd confess:
'I am now less than nothingness.'
Michael R. Burch, after Diotimus
Sail on, mariner, sail on,
for while we were perishing,
greater ships sailed on.
Michael R. Burch, after Theodorides
All this vast sea is his Monument.
Where does he lie?whether heaven, or hell?
Perhaps when the gulls repent?
their shriekings may tell.
Michael R. Burch, after Glaucus
His white bones lie bleaching on some inhospitable shore:
a son lost to his father, his tomb empty; the poor-
est beggars have happier mothers!
Michael R. Burch, after Damegtus
A mother only as far as the birth pangs,
my life cut short at the height of life's play:
only eighteen years old, so brief was my day.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Having never earned a penny,
nor seen a bridal gown slip to the floor,
still I lie here with the love of many,
to be the love of yet one more.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Little I knew?a child of five?
of what it means to be alive
and all life's little thrills;
but little also?(I was glad not to know) ?
of life's great ills.
Michael R. Burch, after Lucian
Pity this boy who was beautiful, but died.
Pity his monument, overlooking this hillside.
Pity the world that bore him, then foolishly survived.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Insatiable Death! I was only a child!
Why did you snatch me away, in my infancy,
from those destined to love me?
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Tell Nicagoras that Strymonias
at the setting of the Kids
lost his.
Michael R. Burch, after Nicaenetus
Here Saon, son of Dicon, now rests in holy sleep:
say not that the good die young, friend,
lest gods and mortals weep.
Michael R. Burch, after Callimachus
The light of a single morning
exterminated the sacred offspring of Lysidice.
Nor do the angels sing.
Nor do we seek the gods' advice.
This is the grave of Nicander's lost children.
We merely weep at its bitter price.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Pluto, delighting in tears,
why did you bring our son, Ariston,
to the laughterless abyss of death?
Why?why? ?did the gods grant him breath,
if only for seven years?
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Heartlessly this grave
holds our nightingale speechless;
now she lies here like a stone,
who voice was so marvelous;
while sunlight illumining dust
proves the gods all reachless,
as our prayers prove them also
unhearing or beseechless.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
I, Homenea, the chattering bright sparrow,
lie here in the hollow of a great affliction,
leaving tears to Atimetus
and all scattered?that great affection.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
We mourn Polyanthus, whose wife
placed him newly-wedded in an unmarked grave,
having received his luckless corpse
back from the green Aegean wave
that deposited his fleshless skeleton
gruesomely in the harbor of Torone.
Michael R. Burch, after Phaedimus
Once sweetest of the workfellows,
our shy teller of tall tales
?fleet Crethis! ?who excelled
at every childhood game...
now you sleep among long shadows
where everyone's the same...
Michael R. Burch, after Callimachus
Although I had to leave the sweet sun,
only nineteen?Diogenes, hail! ?
beneath the earth, let's have lots more fun:
till human desire seems weak and pale.
Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet
Though they were steadfast among spears, dark Fate destroyed them
as they defended their native land, rich in sheep;
now Ossa's dust seems all the more woeful, where they now sleep.
Michael R. Burch, after Aeschylus
Aeschylus, graybeard, son of Euphorion,
died far away in wheat-bearing Gela;
still, the groves of Marathon may murmur of his valor
and the black-haired Mede, with his mournful clarion.
Michael R. Burch, after Aeschylus
Now his voice is prisoned in the silent pathways of the night:
his owner's faithful Maltese...
but will he still bark again, on sight?
Michael R. Burch, after Tymnes
Poor partridge, poor partridge, lately migrated from the rocks;
our cat bit off your unlucky head; my offended heart still balks!
I put you back together again and buried you, so unsightly!
May the dark earth cover you heavily: heavily, not lightly...
so she shan't get at you again!
Michael R. Burch, after Agathias
Wert thou, O Artemis,
overbusy with thy beast-slaying hounds
when the Beast embraced me?
Michael R. Burch, after Diodorus of Sardis
Dead as you are, though you lie still as stone,
huntress Lycas, my great Thessalonian hound,
the wild beasts still fear your white bones;
craggy Pelion remembers your valor,
splendid Ossa, the way you would bound
and bay at the moon for its whiteness,
bellowing as below we heard valleys resound.
And how brightly with joy you would canter and run
the strange lonely peaks of high Cithaeron!
Michael R. Burch, after Simonides
Constantina, inconstant one!
Once I thought your name beautiful
but I was a fool
and now you are more bitter to me than death!
You flee someone who loves you
with baited breath
to pursue someone who's untrue.
But if you manage to make him love you,
tomorrow you'll flee him too!
Michael R. Burch, after Macedonius
Not Rocky Trachis,
nor the thirsty herbage of Dryophis,
nor this albescent stone
with its dark blue lettering shielding your white bones,
nor the wild Icarian sea dashing against the steep shingles
of Doliche and Dracanon,
nor the empty earth,
nor anything essential of me since birth,
nor anything now mingles
here with the perplexing absence of you,
with what death forces us to abandon...
Michael R. Burch, after Euphorion
We who left the thunderous surge of the Aegean
of old, now lie here on the mid-plain of Ecbatan:
farewell, dear Athens, nigh to Euboea,
farewell, dear sea!
Michael R. Burch, after Plato
My friend found me here,
a shipwrecked corpse on the beach.
He heaped these strange boulders above me.
Oh, how he would wail
that he 'loved' me,
with many bright tears for his own calamitous life!
Now he sleeps with my wife
and flits like a gull in a gale
?beyond reach?
while my broken bones bleach.
Michael R. Burch, after Callimachus
Cloud-capped Geraneia, cruel mountain!
If only you had looked no further than Ister and Scythian
Tanais, had not aided the surge of the Scironian
sea's wild-spurting fountain
filling the dark ravines of snowy Meluriad!
But now he is dead:
a chill corpse in a chillier ocean?moon led?
and only an empty tomb now speaks of the long, windy voyage ahead.
Michael R. Burch, after Simonides
Erinna Epigrams
This portrait is the work of sensitive, artistic hands.
See, my dear Prometheus, you have human equals!
For if whoever painted this girl had only added a voice,
she would have been Agatharkhis entirely.
by Erinna, translation by Michael R. Burch
You, my tall Columns, and you, my small Urn,
the receptacle of Hades' tiny pittance of ash?
remember me to those who pass by
my grave, as they dash.
Tell them my story, as sad as it is:
that this grave sealed a young bride's womb;
that my name was Baucis and Telos my land;
and that Erinna, my friend, etched this poem on my Tomb.
by Erinna, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Excerpts from 'Distaff'
by Erinna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… the moon rising …
… leaves falling …
… waves lapping a windswept shore …
… and our childish games, Baucis, do you remember? ...
... Leaping from white horses,
running on reckless feet through the great courtyard.
'You're it! ' I cried, ‘You're the Tortoise now! '
But when your turn came to pursue your pursuers,
you darted beyond the courtyard,
dashed out deep into the waves,
splashing far beyond us …
… My poor Baucis, these tears I now weep are your warm memorial,
these traces of embers still smoldering in my heart
for our silly amusements, now that you lie ash …
… Do you remember how, as girls,
we played at weddings with our dolls,
pretending to be brides in our innocent beds? ...
... How sometimes I was your mother,
allotting wool to the weaver-women,
calling for you to unreel the thread? ...
… Do you remember our terror of the monster Mormo
with her huge ears, her forever-flapping tongue,
her four slithering feet, her shape-shifting face? ...
... Until you mother called for us to help with the salted meat...
... But when you mounted your husband's bed,
dearest Baucis, you forgot your mothers' warnings!
Aphrodite made your heart forgetful...
... Desire becomes oblivion...
... Now I lament your loss, my dearest friend.
I can't bear to think of that dark crypt.
I can't bring myself to leave the house.
I refuse to profane your corpse with my tearless eyes.
I refuse to cut my hair, but how can I mourn with my hair unbound?
I blush with shame at the thought of you! …
... But in this dark house, O my dearest Baucis,
My deep grief is ripping me apart.
Wretched Erinna! Only nineteen,
I moan like an ancient crone, eyeing this strange distaff...
O Hymen! ... O Hymenaeus! ...
Alas, my poor Baucis!
On a Betrothed Girl
by Errina
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I sing of Baucis the bride.
Observing her tear-stained crypt
say this to Death who dwells underground:
'Thou art envious, O Death! '
Her vivid monument tells passers-by
of the bitter misfortune of Baucis?
how her father-in-law burned the poor girl on a pyre
lit by bright torches meant to light her marriage train home.
While thou, O Hymenaeus, transformed her harmonious bridal song into a chorus of wailing dirges.
Hymen! O Hymenaeus!
ANCIENT GREEK EPIGRAMS
These are my translations of ancient Greek and Roman epigrams, or they may be better described as interpretations or poems 'after' the original poets …
You begrudge men your virginity?
Why? To what purpose?
You will find no one to embrace you in the grave.
The joys of love are for the living.
But in Acheron, dear virgin,
we shall all lie dust and ashes.
—Asclepiades of Samos (circa 320-260 BC) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me live with joy today, since tomorrow is unforeseeable.
?Michael R Burch, after Palladas of Alexandria
Laments for Animals
Now his voice is prisoned in the silent pathways of the night:
his owner's faithful Maltese...
but will he still bark again, on sight?
?Michael R Burch, after Tymnes
Poor partridge, poor partridge, lately migrated from the rocks;
our cat bit off your unlucky head; my offended heart still balks!
I put you back together again and buried you, so unsightly!
May the dark earth cover you heavily: heavily, not lightly...
so she shan't get at you again!
?Michael R Burch, after Agathias
Hunter partridge,
we no longer hear your echoing cry
along the forest's dappled feeding ground
where, in times gone by,
you would decoy speckled kinsfolk to their doom,
luring them on,
for now you too have gone
down the dark path to Acheron.
?Michael R Burch, after Simmias
Wert thou, O Artemis,
overbusy with thy beast-slaying hounds
when the Beast embraced me?
?Michael R Burch, after Diodorus of Sardis
Dead as you are, though you lie as
still as cold stone, huntress Lycas,
my great Thessalonian hound,
the wild beasts still fear your white bones;
craggy Pelion remembers your valor,
splendid Ossa, the way you would bound
and bay at the moon for its whiteness
as below we heard valleys resound.
And how brightly with joy you would leap and run
the strange lonely peaks of high Cithaeron!
?Michael R Burch, after Simonides
Anyte Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain's abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer's labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors' voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Nossis Epigrams
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it! , is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ibykos/Ibycus Epigrams
Euryalus, born of the blue-eyed Graces,
scion of the bright-tressed Seasons,
son of the Cyprian,
whom dew-lidded Persuasion birthed among rose-blossoms.
—Ibykos/Ibycus (circa 540 BC) , loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Ibykos/Ibycus Fragment 286, circa 564 B.C.
this poem has been titled 'The Influence of Spring'
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Come spring, the grand
apple trees stand
watered by a gushing river
where the maidens' uncut flowers shiver
and the blossoming grape vine swells
in the gathering shadows.
Unfortunately
for me
Eros never rests
but like a Thracian tempest
ablaze with lightning
emanates from Aphrodite;
the results are frightening—
black,
bleak,
astonishing,
violently jolting me from my soles
to my soul.
Ibykos/Ibycus Fragment 282, circa 540 B.C.
Ibykos fragment 282, Oxyrhynchus papyrus, lines 1-32
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch,
... They also destroyed the glorious city of Priam, son of Dardanus,
after leaving Argos due to the devices of death-dealing Zeus,
encountering much-sung strife over the striking beauty of auburn-haired Helen,
waging woeful war when destruction rained down on longsuffering Pergamum
thanks to the machinations of golden-haired Aphrodite...
But now it is not my intention to sing of Paris, the host-deceiver,
nor of slender-ankled Cassandra,
nor of Priam's other children,
nor of the nameless day of the downfall of high-towered Troy,
nor even of the valour of the heroes who hid in the hollow, many-bolted horse...
Such was the destruction of Troy.
They were heroic men and Agamemnon was their king,
a king from Pleisthenes,
a son of Atreus, son of a noble father.
The all-wise Muses of Helicon
might recount such tales accurately,
but no mortal man, unblessed,
could ever number those innumerable ships
Menelaus led across the Aegean from Aulos...
'From Argos they came, the bronze-speared sons of the Achaeans...'
Antipater Epigrams
Everywhere the sea is the sea, the dead are the dead.
What difference to me—where I rest my head?
The sea knows I'm buried.
?Michael R Burch, after Antipater of Sidon
Mnemosyne was stunned into astonishment when she heard honey-tongued Sappho,
wondering how mortal men merited a tenth Muse.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch,
O Aeolian land, you lightly cover Sappho,
the mortal Muse who joined the Immortals,
whom Cypris and Eros fostered,
with whom Peitho wove undying wreaths,
who was the joy of Hellas and your glory.
O Fates who twine the spindle's triple thread,
why did you not spin undying life
for the singer whose deathless gifts
enchanted the Muses of Helicon?
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Here, O stranger, the sea-crashed earth covers Homer,
herald of heroes' valour,
spokesman of the Olympians,
second sun to the Greeks,
light of the immortal Muses,
the Voice that never diminishes.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
This herald of heroes,
this interpreter of the Immortals,
this second sun shedding light on the life of Greece,
Homer,
the delight of the Muses,
the ageless voice of the world,
lies dead, O stranger,
washed away with the sea-washed sand...
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
As high as the trumpet's cry exceeds the thin flute's,
so high above all others your lyre rang;
so much the sweeter your honey than the waxen-celled swarm's.
O Pindar, with your tender lips witness how the horned god Pan
forgot his pastoral reeds when he sang your hymns.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Here lies Pindar, the Pierian trumpet,
the heavy-smiting smith of well-stuck hymns.
Hearing his melodies, one might believe
the immortal Muses possessed bees
to produce heavenly harmonies in the bridal chamber of Cadmus.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Harmonia, the goddess of Harmony, was the bride of Cadmus, so his bridal chamber would have been full of pleasant sounds.
Praise the well-wrought verses of tireless Antimachus,
a man worthy of the majesty of ancient demigods,
whose words were forged on the Muses' anvils.
If you are gifted with a keen ear,
if you aspire to weighty words,
if you would pursue a path less traveled,
if Homer holds the scepter of song,
and yet Zeus is greater than Poseidon,
even so Poseidon his inferior exceeds all other Immortals;
and even so the Colophonian bows before Homer,
but exceeds all other singers.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
I, the trumpet that once blew the bloody battle-notes
and the sweet truce-tunes, now hang here, Pherenicus,
your gift to Athena, quieted from my clamorous music.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Behold Anacreon's tomb;
here the Teian swan sleeps with the unmitigated madness of his love for lads.
Still he sings songs of longing on the lyre of Bathyllus
and the albescent marble is perfumed with ivy.
Death has not quenched his desire
and the house of Acheron still burns with the fevers of Cypris.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
May the four-clustered clover, Anacreon,
grow here by your grave,
ringed by the tender petals of the purple meadow-flowers,
and may fountains of white milk bubble up,
and the sweet-scented wine gush forth from the earth,
so that your ashes and bones may experience joy,
if indeed the dead know any delight.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Stranger passing by the simple tomb of Anacreon,
if you found any profit in my books,
please pour drops of your libation on my ashes,
so that my bones, refreshed by wine, may rejoice
that I, who so delighted in the boisterous revels of Dionysus,
and who played such manic music, as wine-drinkers do,
even in death may not travel without Bacchus
in my sojourn to that land to which all men must come.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Anacreon, glory of Ionia,
even in the land of the lost may you never be without your beloved revels,
or your well-loved lyre,
and may you still sing with glistening eyes,
shaking the braided flowers from your hair,
turning always towards Eurypyle, Megisteus, or the locks of Thracian Smerdies,
sipping sweet wine,
your robes drenched with the juices of grapes,
wringing intoxicating nectar from its folds...
For all your life, old friend, was poured out as an offering to these three:
the Muses, Bacchus, and Love.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
You sleep amid the dead, Anacreon,
your day-labor done,
your well-loved lyre's sweet tongue silenced
that once sang incessantly all night long.
And Smerdies also sleeps,
the spring-tide of your loves,
for whom, tuning and turning you lyre,
you made music like sweetest nectar.
For you were Love's bullseye,
the lover of lads,
and he had the bow and the subtle archer's craft
to never miss his target.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Erinna's verses were few, nor were her songs overlong,
but her smallest works were inspired.
Therefore she cannot fail to be remembered
and is never lost beneath the shadowy wings of bleak night.
While we, the estranged, the innumerable throngs of tardy singers,
lie in pale corpse-heaps wasting into oblivion.
The moaned song of the lone swan outdoes the cawings of countless jackdaws
echoing far and wide through darkening clouds.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Who hung these glittering shields here,
these unstained spears and unruptured helmets,
dedicating to murderous Ares ornaments of no value?
Will no one cast these virginal weapons out of my armory?
Their proper place is in the peaceful halls of placid men,
not within the wild walls of Enyalius.
I delight in hacked heads and the blood of dying berserkers,
if, indeed, I am Ares the Destroyer.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
May good Fortune, O stranger, keep you on course all your life before a fair breeze!
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Docile doves may coo for cowards,
but we delight in dauntless men.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Here by the threshing-room floor,
little ant, you relentless toiler,
I built you a mound of liquid-absorbing earth,
so that even in death you may partake of the droughts of Demeter,
as you lie in the grave my plough burrowed.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
This is your mother's lament, Artemidorus,
weeping over your tomb,
bewailing your twelve brief years:
'All the fruit of my labor has gone up in smoke,
all your heartbroken father's endeavors are ash,
all your childish passion an extinguished flame.
For you have entered the land of the lost,
from which there is no return, never a home-coming.
You failed to reach your prime, my darling,
and now we have nothing but your headstone and dumb dust.'
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Everywhere the sea is the sea, the dead are the dead.
What difference to me—where I rest my head?
The sea knows I'm buried.
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Everywhere the Sea is the Sea
by Antipater of Sidon
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Everywhere the Sea is the same;
why then do we idly blame
the Cyclades
or the harrowing waves of narrow Helle?
To protest is vain!
Justly, they have earned their fame.
Why then,
after I had escaped them,
did the harbor of Scarphe engulf me?
I advise whoever finds a fair passage home:
accept that the sea's way is its own.
Man is foam.
Aristagoras knows who's buried here.
Orpheus, mute your bewitching strains
by Antipater of Sidon
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Orpheus, mute your bewitching strains;
Leave beasts to wander stony plains;
No longer sing fierce winds to sleep,
Nor seek to enchant the tumultuous deep;
For you are dead; each Muse, forlorn,
Strums anguished strings as your mother mourns.
Mind, mere mortals, mind—no use to moan,
When even a Goddess could not save her own!
Orpheus, now you will never again enchant
by Antipater of Sidon
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Orpheus, now you will never again enchant the charmed oaks,
never again mesmerize shepherdless herds of wild beasts,
never again lull the roaring winds,
never again tame the tumultuous hail
nor the sweeping snowstorms
nor the crashing sea,
for you have perished
and the daughters of Mnemosyne weep for you,
and your mother Calliope above all.
Why do mortals mourn their dead sons,
when not even the gods can protect their children from Hades?
—Antipater of Sidon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
The High Road to Death
by Antipater of Sidon
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
Men skilled in the stars call me brief-lifed;
I am, but what do I care, O Seleucus?
All men descend to Hades
and if our demise comes quicker,
the sooner we shall we look on Minos.
Let us drink then, for surely wine is a steed for the high-road,
when pedestrians march sadly to Death.
The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World
by Antipater of Sidon
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
I have set my eyes upon
the lofty walls of Babylon
with its elevated road for chariots
... and upon the statue of Zeus
by the Alpheus...
... and upon the hanging gardens...
... upon the Colossus of the Sun...
... upon the massive edifices
of the towering pyramids...
... even upon the vast tomb of Mausolus...
but when I saw the mansion of Artemis
disappearing into the cirri,
those other marvels lost their brilliancy
and I said, 'Setting aside Olympus,
the Sun never shone on anything so fabulous!'
Sophocles Epigrams
Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It's a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death's eternal night!
—Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oblivion: What a blessing, to lie untouched by pain!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oblivion: What a boon, to lie unbound by pain!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How happy the soul who speeds back to the Source,
but crowned with peace is the one who never came.
—a Sophoclean passage from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The happiest life is one empty of thought.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what is the use of hanging on day after day,
edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Children anchor their mothers to life.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fortune never favors the faint-hearted.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Homer Epigrams
For the gods have decreed that unfortunate mortals must suffer, while they themselves are sorrowless.
—Homer, Iliad 24.525-526, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
'It is best not to be born or, having been born, to pass on as swiftly as possible.'
—attributed to Homer, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ancient Roman Epigrams
Wall, we're astonished that you haven't collapsed,
since you're holding up verses so prolapsed!
—Ancient Roman graffiti, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R Burch
There is nothing so pointless, so perfidious as human life! ... The ultimate bliss is not to be born; otherwise we should speedily slip back into the original Nothingness.
—Seneca, On Consolation to Marcia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Originally published by The Chained Muse
Sappho Translations by Michael R. Burch
These are Michael R. Burch's modern English translations of the immortal Sappho of Lesbos, the great lyric poet who was called The Tenth Muse by her ancient peers. The other nine muses were goddesses, so Sappho was held in the very highest regard!
A short revealing frock?
It's just my luck
your lips were made to mock!
—Sappho, fragment 177, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
—Sappho, fragment 47, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That enticing girl's clinging dresses
leave me trembling, overcome by happiness,
as once, when I saw the Goddess in my prayers
eclipsing Cyprus.
—Sappho, fragment 22, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gongyla, wear, I beg,
that revealing white dress …
—Sappho, fragment 22, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bed the bride with the beautiful feet,
or bring her to me!
—Sappho, fragment 103b, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That hayseed tart
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to seduce you with her ankles' nakedness!
—Sappho, fragment 57, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long helplessly for love. Gazing into your eyes not even Hermione compares. Who is your equal? I compare you only to goldenhaired Helen among mortal women. Know your love would free me from every care, and keep me awake nightlong beside dewy deltas.
—Sappho, fragment 22, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Aphrodite, do you not love the windlike dances
of beautiful, apple-cheeked Abanthis?
—Sappho, fragment 301, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I am an acolyte
of wile-weaving
Aphrodite.
—Sappho, fragment 12, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sing, my sacred tortoiseshell lyre;
come, let my words
accompany your voice.
—Sappho, fragment 118, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
She keeps her scents
in a dressing-case.
And her sense?
In some undiscoverable place.
—Sappho, fragment 156, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?
—Sappho, fragment 36, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May I lead?
Will you follow?
Foolish man!
Ears so hollow,
minds so shallow,
never can!
—Sappho, fragment 169, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With my two small arms, how can I
think to encircle the sky?
—Sappho, fragment 52, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The black earth absorbed grief-stricken tears along with the interred sons of Atreus.
—Sappho, fragment 297, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Menelaus, son of Atreus, lies returned to the black earth, finally beyond agony.
—Sappho, fragment 27, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gold does not rust,
yet my son becomes dust?
—Sappho, fragment 52, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Atthis, so charming in the bedroom, but otherwise hateful, proud and aloof, her teeth clicking like castanets.
—Sappho, fragment 87a, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I sought the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
—attributed to Sappho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mnemosyne was stunned into astonishment when she heard honey-tongued Sappho, wondering how mortal men merited a tenth Muse.
—Antipater of Sidon, translated by Michael R. Burch
Mere air,
my words' fare,
but intoxicating to hear.
—Sappho, cup inscription, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What cannot be swept
------------------------------------- aside
must be wept.
—Sappho, translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pain
drains
me
to
the
last
drop
.
—Sappho, fragment 37, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mother, how can I weave,
so overwhelmed by love?
—Sappho, fragment 102, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Spartan girls wear short skirts
and are brazen.
—attributed to Sappho, translator unknown
Someone, somewhere
will remember us,
I swear!
—Sappho, fragment 147, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No droning bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
—Sappho, fragment 146, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The moon has long since set;
the Pleiades are gone;
now half the night is spent
yet here I lie—alone.
—Sappho, fragment 168b, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 136
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
after Aaron Poochigian
Nightingale,
how handsomely you sing
your desire,
sweet crier
of blossoming spring.
2.
Nightingale, enticing-songed harbinger of spring. Sing!
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Eros, the limb-shatterer,
rattles me,
an irresistible
constrictor.
2.
Eros, the limb-loosener,
rattles me,
an irresistible
constrictor.
Sappho, fragment 10
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I lust!
I crave!
F-ck me!
Sappho, fragment 93
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gongyla, wear, I beg,
that revealing white dress
when you come,
so that desire surrounds you,
descending in circling flight as you dance
to the strains of Abanthis's lyre
while I compose hymns to your loveliness,
both of us stirred by your beauty
and that dress!
Wherefore I once prayed to Aphrodite: I want
and she reprimanded me.
Sappho, fragment 24
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Don't you remember, in days bygone,
how we did such things, being young?
2.
Remember? In our youth
we too did such reckless things.
3.
Remember how we did such things in our youth? Many lovely and beautiful things in the city of dangerous enticements! We lived face-to-face with great daring amid those who inflict pain. Daring even to believe in golden-haired, slender-voiced Love …
The fragment below seems to be one of the most popular with translators …
Sappho, fragment 145
If you're squeamish, don't prod the beach rubble.?Mary Barnard
If you dont like trouble dont disturb sand.?Cid Corman
Don't move piles of pebbles.?Diane J. Rayor
Don't stir the trash.?Guy Davenport
If you're squeamish don't trouble the rubble!?Michael R. Burch
Let sleeping turds lie!?Michael R. Burch
Leave every stone unturned!?Michael R. Burch
Roll no stones, let them all gather moss!?Michael R. Burch
do not move stones?Anne Carson
Sappho, fragment 33
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Golden-crowned Aphrodite,
don't be a glory-hog!
Share a little of your luck with me!
Sappho, fragment 133 (Wharton 133, Barnard 31)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Blushing bride, brimful of rose-petaled love,
brightest jewel of the Goddess of Paphos,
come to the bridal bed,
tenderly entice your bridegroom.
May Hesperus lead you starry-eyed
to stand awestruck before the silver throne of Hera,
Goddess of Marriage!
2.
Of all the stars the fairest,
Hesperus,
lead the maiden straight to her bridegroom's bed,
honoring Hera, the goddess of marriage.
3.
The evening star
is of all stars the brightest,
the fairest.
Sappho, fragment 160
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I shall now sing skillfully
to please my companions.
2.
I shall sing these songs skillfully
to please my companions.
3.
Goddess,
let me sing skillfully
to please my companions.
Sappho, fragment 102 (Lobel-Page 102 / Diehl 114 / Bergk 90 / Cox 87 / Barnard 12)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Mother, how can I weave,
so overwhelmed by love?
2.
Mother, how can I weave,
so overwhelmed by love?
Sly Aphrodite incited me!
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
May the gods prolong the night
—yes, let it last forever!—
as long as you sleep in my sight.
2.
I prayed that blessed night
might be doubled for us.
Sappho, fragment 123
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Just now I was called,
enthralled,
by golden-sandalled
dawn…
Sappho, fragment 22
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I bid you, Abanthis, grab your lyre
and sing of Gongyla, while desire
surrounds you. Sing of the lovely one,
how her clinging white dress excited you
as she whirled. Meanwhile, I rejoice
although Aphrodite once chided me
for praying … and yet I still pray to have her.
Sappho, fragment 23
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long helplessly for love.
Gazing into your eyes not even Hermione compares.
Who is your equal?
I compare you only to goldenhaired Helen among mortal women.
Know your love would free me from every care, and keep me awake nightlong beside dewy deltas.
Sappho, fragment 78
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… nor were we without longing together,
as flowers long to delight …
Sappho, fragment 44
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The Wedding of Andromache and Hector
The herald arrived from Cyprus, Idaios, the fleetfooted Trojan messenger, whose ringing voice announced the wedding’s immortal fame to all Asia: “Hector and his companions deliver delightful-eyed delicate Andromache over the salt sea, on ships from holy Thebes and eternal-shored Plakia, with many gold bracelets, fragrant purple garments, iridescent adornments, and countless silver cups and ivory.” As he spoke, Hector’s beloved father sprang joyously to his feet and the report soon reached Hector's friends throughout the sprawling city. Immediately the sons of Ilos, Troy's founder, harnessed mules to smooth-wheeled carriages as throngs of women and slender-ankled virgins climbed aboard. Priam's daughters came in royal carriages. Elsewhere bachelors harnessed stallions to their chariots. From far and wide charioteers rode like gods toward the sacred gathering. Everyone of one accord they set out for Ilion accompanied by the melodies of sweet-voiced flutes, reed pipes and clacking castanets. The virgins sang sacred songs whose silvery echoes brightened the heavens. Everywhere in the streets wine bowls and cups were raised in jubilant toasts. The fragrances of myrrh, cassia and frankincense mingled together, perfuming the wind. The older women cried aloud for joy and the men's voices rang forcefully, calling on the archer Paion Apollo, master of the lyre, as all sang the praises of godlike Hector and Andromache.
Sappho, fragment 132
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I have a delightful daughter
fairer than the fairest flowers, Cleis,
whom I cherish more than all Lydia and lovely Lesbos.
2.
I have a lovely daughter
with a face like the fairest flowers,
my beloved Cleis …
Sappho, fragment 295
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I fluttered
after you
like a chick after its mother …
2.
I fluttered
after you
like a chick after its hen …
3.
I flew back like a chick to its hen.
4.
I flew back like a child to its mother.
Sappho, fragment 30
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stay!
I will lay
out a cushion for you
with the plushest pillows …
Sappho, fragment 46
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My body descends
and my comfort depends
on your welcoming cushions!
From Herodian, according to Edwin Marion Cox.
Sappho, fragment 140
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
He is dying, Cytherea, the delicate Adonis.
What shall we women do?
Virgins, rend your garments, bare your breasts and abuse them!
Sappho, fragment 168
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Alas, Adonis!
Sappho, fragment 55
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Lady,
soon you'll lie dead, disregarded,
as your worm-eaten corpse like your corpus degrades;
for those who never gathered Pieria's roses
must mutely accept how their memory fades
as they flit among the obscure, uncelebrated
Hadean shades.
2.
Lady,
soon you'll lie dead, disregarded,
as your worm-eaten corpse like your verse degrades;
for those who never gathered Pierian roses
must mutely accept how their reputation fades
among the obscure, uncelebrated
Hadean shades.
3.
Lady,
soon you'll lie dead, disregarded;
then imagine how quickly your reputation fades …
when you who never gathered the roses of Pieria
mutely assume your place
among the obscure, uncelebrated
Hadean shades.
4.
Death shall rule thee
eternally
now, my Lady,
for see:
your name lies useless, silent and forgotten
here and hereafter;
never again will you gather
the roses of Pieria, but only wander
misbegotten,
rotten
and obscure through Hades
flitting forlornly among the dismal shades.
Sappho, unnumbered fragment
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All mixed up, I drizzled.
Sappho, fragment 34
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Awed by the Moon's splendor,
the stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
2a.
You are,
of all the unapproachable stars,
the fairest.
2b.
You are,
of all the unapproachable stars,
the brightest.
2c.
You are,
of all the unapproachable stars,
by far
the fairest,
the brightest?
possessing the Moon's splendor.
2d.
You are,
compared to every star,
by far
the fairest,
the brightest?
surpassing the Moon's splendor.
3.
The stars lose their luster in the presence of the waxing moon when she graces the earth with her silver luminescence.
4.
The stars, abashed, hide their faces when the full-orbed moon floods the earth with her clear silver light.
5a.
Stars surrounding the brilliant moon pale whenever she lights the earth.
5b.
Stars surrounding the brilliant moon pale whenever she silvers the earth.
Sappho, fragment 39
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We're merely mortal women,
it's true;
the Goddesses have no rivals
but You.
Sappho, fragment 5
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We're eclipsed here by your presence—
you outshine all the ladies of Lydia
as the bright-haloed moon outsplendors the stars.
I suspect the fragment above is about Anactoria aka Anaktoria, since Sappho associates Anactoria with Lydia in fragment 16.
Sappho, fragment 16
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Those I most charm
do me the most harm.
2.
Those I charm the most
do me the most harm.
Sappho, fragment 68a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Apart from me they became like goddesses
in their unrestrained excesses.
Guilty Andromedas. Deceitful Megaras.
Sappho, fragment 62
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You lay in wait,
beautiful in your garments
beneath a sweet-scented laurel tree,
then ambushed me!
Sappho, fragment 154
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
The moon rose and we women
thronged it like an altar.
1b.
As the full moon rose,
we women
thronged it like an altar.
1c.
Women thronged the altar at moonrise.
2.
All night long
lithe maidens thronged
at the altar of Love.
3.
Maidens throng
at the altar of Love
all night long.
4.
The moon shone, full
as the virgins ringed Love's altar …
Sappho, fragment 2
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaving your heavenly summit,
I submit
to the mountain,
then plummet.
Sappho, fragment 129
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
You forget me
or you love another more!
It's over.
2.
It's over!
Who can move
a hard heart?
Sappho, fragment 51
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I'm undecided.
My mind? Torn. Divided.
2.
Unsure as a babe new-born,
My mind is divided, torn.
3.
I don't know what to do:
My mind is divided, two.
Sappho, fragment 78
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… nor were we without longing together,
as flowers long to delight …
Sappho, fragment 68a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Apart from me they became like goddesses
in their unrestrained excesses.
Guilty Andromedas. Deceitful Megaras.
Sappho, fragment 23
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long helplessly for love. Gazing into your eyes not even Hermione compares. Who is your equal? I compare you only to goldenhaired Helen among mortal women. Know your love would free me from every care, and keep me awake nightlong beside dewy deltas.
Sappho, fragment 62
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You lay in wait,
beautiful in your garments
beneath a sweet-scented laurel tree,
then ambushed me!
Sappho, fragment 100
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When the bride comes
let her train rejoice!
Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bridegroom,
was there ever a maid
so like a lovely heirloom?
Sappho, fragment 19
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You anoint yourself
with the most exquisite perfume.
Sappho, fragment 120
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I'm no resenter;
I have a childlike heart …
2.
I'm not resentful;
I have a childlike heart …
3.
I'm not spiteful;
I have a childlike heart …
4.
I'm not one who likes to wound,
but have a calm disposition.
Sappho, fragment 126
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
May you sleep, at rest,
on your tender girlfriend’s breast.
2.
May your head gently rest
on the breast
of the tenderest guest.
3.
May your head gently rest
on the tender breast
of the girl you love best.
Sappho, fragment 107
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Is there any good in maidenhood?
2.
Is there any synergy
in virginity?
Sappho, fragment 81
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dica! Do not enter the presence of Goddesses ungarlanded!
First weave sprigs of dill with those delicate hands, if you desire their favor,
for the Blessed Graces disdain bareheaded girls.
Sappho, fragment 58
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
I confess
that I love a gentle caress,
as I love the sun's ecstatic brilliance.
1b.
I confess
that I love her caresses;
for me Love blazes with the sun’s brilliance.
1c.
I love refinement
and for me Eros
blazes with the sun's beauty, brightness and brilliance.
2.
I love the sensual
as I love the sun's ecstatic brilliance.
3.
I love the sensual
as I love the sun's celestial splendor.
4.
I cherish extravagance,
intoxicated by Love's celestial splendor.
Sappho, fragment 127
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Assemble now, Muses, leaving golden landscapes!
Sappho, fragment 138
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Darling, let me see your face;
unleash your eyes' grace.
2.
Turn to me, favor me
with your eyes' indulgence.
3.
Look me in the face,
smile,
reveal your eyes' grace …
4.
Turn to me, favor me
with your eyes' acceptance.
5.
Darling, let me see your smiling face;
favor me again with your eyes' grace.
Sappho, fragment 38
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
You inflame me!
2.
You ignite and inflame me …
You melt me.
Sappho, fragment 12
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I am an acolyte
of wile-weaving
Aphrodite.
Sappho, fragment 4
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What can Sappho possibly offer
all-blessed Aphrodite?
Sappho, fragment 104a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hesperus, herdsman most blessed!,
you herd homeward the wayward guest,
herd sheep and goats back home to their rest,
herd children to snuggle at their mother's breast.
Sappho, fragment 105
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Like the quince-apple ripening on the highest bough,
which the harvesters missed, or forgot—somehow—
or perhaps just couldn't reach, until now.
Like a mountain hyacinth rarely found,
which shepherds' feet trampled into the ground,
leaving purple stains on an unmourned mound.
2.
You're the sweetest apple reddening on the highest bough,
which the harvesters missed, or forgot—somehow—
or perhaps just couldn't reach, until now.
3.
You're the sweetest apple reddening on the highest bough,
which the harvesters missed … but, no, …
they just couldn't reach that high.
Sappho, fragment 145
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Prometheus the Fire-Bearer
robbed the Gods of their power
and so
brought mankind and himself to woe …
must you repeat his error?
Sappho, fragment 169
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May I lead?
Will you follow?
Foolish man!
Ears so hollow,
minds so shallow,
never can!
Sappho, fragments 156
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Your voice—
a sweeter liar
than the lyre,
more dearly bought
and sold,
than gold.
2.
Your voice?—
more melodious than the lyre,
more dearly bought and sold
than gold.
Sappho, fragment 100
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
She wrapped herself then in
most delicate linen.
2.
She wrapped herself in
her most delicate linen.
Sappho, fragment 57
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
That country wench bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to seduce you with her ankles' nakedness!
1b.
That country wench bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art
is hiking her dress
to reveal her ankles' nakedness!
2.
That hayseed tart
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to seduce you with her ankles' nakedness!
Sappho, fragment 54
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Eros
descended from heaven
clad in his imperial purple mantle.
2.
Eros
descends from heaven
wearing his imperial purple mantle.
Sappho, fragment 121
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
As a friend you're great,
but you need a much younger bedmate.
2.
Although you're very dear to me,
please don't be silly!
You need a much younger filly.
3.
Although you're very dear to me
you need a much younger filly;
I'm far too old for you,
and this old mare's just not that damn silly.
Sappho, after Anacreon
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once again I dive into this fathomless ocean,
intoxicated by lust.
The Legend of Sappho and Phaon, after Menander
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Some say Sappho was an ardent maiden
goaded by wild emotion
to fling herself from the white-frothed rocks of Leukas
into this raging ocean
for love of Phaon …
but others reject that premise
and say it was Aphrodite, for love of Adonis.
Sappho, fragment 140
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Phaon ferried the Goddess across:
the Goddess of Love, so men say
who crowned him with kingly laurels.
Was he crowned for only a day?
Sappho, fragment 105c
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Shepherds trample the larkspur
whose petals empurple the heath,
foreshadowing shepherds' grief.
Sappho, fragment 100
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The softest pallors grace
her lovely face.
Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I yearn for?I burn for?the one I miss!
2.
While you learn,
I burn.
3.
While you try to discern your will,
I burn still.
Sappho, fragment 30
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virgins, keeping vigil all night long,
go, make a lovely song,
sing of the love you abide
for the violet-robed bride.
Or better yet?arise, regale!
Go entice the eligible bachelors
so that we shocked elders
can sleep less than the love-plagued nightingales!
Sappho, fragment 122
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
A willowy girl plucking wildflowers.
1b.
A willowy girl picking wildflowers.
2.
A tender maiden plucking flowers
persuades the knave
to heroically brave
the world's untender hours.
Sappho, fragment 125
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love, bittersweet Dispenser of pain,
Weaver of implausible fictions:
flourishes in prosperity,
weeps for life's perversity,
quails before adversity,
dies haggard, believing she's pretty.
Sappho, fragment 201
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Death is evil;
so the Gods decreed
or they would die.
2.
Death is evil; the Gods all agree.
For, had death been good,
the Gods would
be mortal, like me.
Sappho, fragment 43
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, dear ones,
let us cease our singing:
morning dawns.
Sappho, fragment 14
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Today
may
buffeting winds bear
all my distress and care
away.
2.
Today
may
buffeting winds bear
away
all my distress and care.
Sappho, fragment 69
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I gladly returned
to soft arms I once spurned.
2.
Into the soft arms of the girl I once spurned,
I gladly returned.
Sappho, fragment 29
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Since my paps are dry and my barren womb rests,
let me praise lively girls with violet-scented breasts.
Sappho, fragment 1
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Beautiful swift sparrows
rising on whirring wings
flee the dark earth for the sun-bright air …
Sappho, fragment 10
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Girls ripening for marriage wove flowers into garlands.
2.
Girls of the ripening maidenhead wove garlands.
3.
Girls of the ripening maidenhead wore garlands.
Sappho, fragment 94 & 98
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Listen, my dear;
by the Goddess I swear
that I, too,
(like you)
had to renounce my false frigidity
and surrender my virginity.
My wedding night was not so bad;
you too have nothing to fear, so be glad!
(But then why do I sometimes still think with dread
of my lost maidenhead?)
Sappho, fragment 114
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Maidenhead! Maidenhead!
So swiftly departed!
Why have you left me
forever brokenhearted?
Sappho, fragment 2
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch, after Sappho and Tennyson
I sip the cup of costly death;
I lose my color, catch my breath
whenever I contemplate your presence,
or absence.
Sappho, fragment 32
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
The Muses honored me by gifting me works.
2.
The Muses gave me their gifts and made me famous.
3.
They have been very generous with me,
the violet-strewing Muses of Olympus;
thanks to their gifts
I have become famous.
Sappho, fragment 3
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stars ringing the lovely moon
pale to insignificance
when she illuminates the earth
with her magnificence.
Sappho, fragment 49
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You have returned!
You did well to not depart
because I pined for you.
Now you have re-lit the torch
I bear for you in my heart,
this flare of Love.
I bless you and bless you and bless you
because we're no longer apart.
Sappho, fragment 52
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Yesterday,
you came to my house
to sing for me.
Today,
I come to you
to return the favor.
Talk to me. Do.
Sweet talk,
I love the flavor!
Please send away your maids
and let us share a private heaven-
haven.
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There was no dance,
no sacred dalliance,
from which we were absent.
Sappho, fragment 152
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… shot through
with innumerable hues …
Sappho, fragment 46
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Y
