Showing posts with label Sappho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sappho. Show all posts

23 April 2017

The Problem with Sappho



                                            by Charles Rafferty

The Problem with Sappho

Only one complete poem remains. The rest of it is berries left in the
bramble after a visit from midday starlings. For years I couldn't
understand how this redaction moved anyone to tears. She was a
dampness in the matchbook. But the world is patient. Eventually the
diamond travels from the mantle to the finger of the woman you love.
Eventually the light from an exploded star arrives to confirm the
emperor's power. It's clear now that a very old bruise can tell us how
hard someone was punched. The detective solves a murder with the help of a single hair. Archaeologists find a molar and build a face to fit.





from The New Yorker  2/27/2017



08 December 2013

Fragments from Sappho: three versions



A New Sappho Poem

[You for] the fragrant-bosomed [Muses'] lovely gifts
[be zealous] girls, [and the] clear melodious lyre:
[but my once tender] body old age now
[has seized;] my hair's turned [white] instead of dark;
my heart's grown heavy, my knees will not support me,
that once on a time were fleet for the dance as fawns.
This state I oft bemoan; but what's to do?
Not to grow old, being human, there's no way.
Tithonus once, the tale was, rose-armed Dawn,
love-smitten, carried off to the world's end,
handsome and young then, yet in time grey age
o'er took him, husband of immortal wife.

Trans. Martin West (2005)   





Sappho to Her Pupils

Live for the gifts the fragrant-breasted Muses
send, for the clear, the singing, lyre, my children.
Old age freezes my body, once so lithe,
rinses the darkness from my hair, now white.
My heart's heavy, my knees no longer keep me
up through the dance they used to prance like fawns in.
Oh, I grumble about it, but for what?
Nothing can stop a person's growing old.
They say that Tithonus was swept away
in Dawn's passionate rose-flushed arms to live
forever, but he lost his looks, his youth,
failing husband of an immortal bride.

Trans. Lachlan Mackinnon (2005)





Sappho and the Weight of Years

Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetry
that breast your threshold with their scented gifts.
Lift the lyre, clear and sweet, they leave with you.
As for me, this body is now so arthritic
I cannot play, hardly even hold the instrument.
Can you believe my white hair was once black?
And oh, the soul grows heavy with the body.
Complaining knee-joints creak at every move.
To think I danced as delicate as a deer!
Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts:
useless: we are all born to lose life,
And what is worse, girls, to lose youth.
The legend of the goddess of the dawn
I'm sure you know: how rosy Eos
madly in love with gorgeous young Tithonus
swept him like booty to her hiding place
but then forgot he would grow old and grey
while she in despair pursued her immortal way.


Trans. Edwin Morgan (2005)