Melancholy of Jason Kleander, Poet in Kommagini, A.D. 595

From the Greek of C.P. Cavafy

Age wears my body, tears at my form,

Maimed by a bone-chilling blade.

I have no fortitude, none whatsoever.

I run in desperation, Art of Poetry

To herbs and potions you might know,

Experiments in narcosis, in fantasy and word choice.

Maimed by a bone-chilling blade --

Bear your pharmacy, Art of Poetry,

Keep the pain of the wound – for a moment – not felt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Η Λύπη του Ιάσων Κλεάνδρου, Ποιητού εν Κομμαγηνή, 595 μ.Χ.

Το γήρασμα του σώματος και της μορφής μου

είναι πληγή από φρικτό μαχαίρι.

Δεν έχω εγκαρτέρησι καμιά.

Εις σε προστρέχω Τέχνη της Ποιήσεως,

που κάπως ξέρεις από φάρμακα·

νάρκης του άλγους δοκιμές, εν Φαντασία και Λόγω.

Είναι πληγή από φρικτό μαχαίρι.—

Τα φάρμακά σου φέρε, Τέχνη της Ποιήσεως,

που κάμνουνε — για λίγο — να μη νιώθεται η πληγή.

A Word by Kinga Fabó

Fabó believed that words trained you to become a slave.

A word: not a baud.

Small, hungry animals, who attack

My flesh, they like to masticate, ruminate.

They parasitize my silence,

Annihilate the delicious gist,

Before the uttering can take place.

---------------------------------------------

A szavak: nem ékszerek.

Hanem apró, éhes állatok,

amik a húsomba rágják magukat.

Élősködnek a csöndemen,

és felzabálják a jelentést,

mielőtt még kimondanám.

Anatomy of a Scream by Kinga Fabó

Linguist Fabó wrote this after the fall of Communism, while researching "the limits of the sayable." 

A scream: not sound. A round of space

Advancing instantly, in an empty rotunda

Where the breathing and the tongue succumb.

There's no lalia inside, no inside words.

Just the white effulgences of bones 

And the red flesh helpless again.

----------------------------------------------------------

A sikoly anatómiája

A sikoly: nem hang. Hanem tér.

Egy hirtelen táguló, üres csarnok,

ahol a tüdő és a torok összeomlik.

Nincs benne lalia, nincs benne szó.

Csak a csontok fehér izzása,

és a hús tehetetlen vöröse.

from A fül (The Ear, 1992).

Bile by Kinga Fabó

A late-1980's short collected in A herba-szakértő (The Herbalist).

The sky's a bile-poisoned pelisse over me.

Murky, bulky, it suffocates.

The stellar clock? It's an icebox sweat

On the universal brow.

No capaciousness. Just this one cramped

Industrial-lung-colored unresponsive.

----------------------------------------------------

Az ég mérgezett palást rajtam.

Nehéz, sötét, és fojtogat.

A csillagok? Hideg veríték

az univerzum homlokán.

Nincs tágasság. Csak ez a szűk,

ólomszínű mozdulatlanság.

Poison by Kinga Fabó

There are no translations of Kinga Fabó the literally mad Hungarian into English that I know of, a gap you will see from this poem needs to be addressed, and I get to, for awhile.

You I vigil keep guard, you my poison.

Fit, the highest grade venom.

What I lack they can't have.

I won't down you myself.

Just notice.

That's when I turn my head and face in

So you see: I concoct without you

(But a vibration lurking in my throat).

-----------------------------------------------

Racun

Úgy vigyázok rád, mint a mérgemre.

Szép, tiszta méreg vagy.

Nem adlak senkinek.

Én se iszom meg.

Csak nézlek.

Aztán elfordítom a fejem.

Hogy lásd: elvagyok nélküled is.

(Csak a torkomban lüktet valami.)

I Went

One last breath of Cavafy's rarefied air on his birthday week, from 1917.

I didn't hold myself back. I let myself go completely and fled.

The pleasures, they were only half real,

Only half-revolved inside my mind.

I went inside the photo-luminous night

And I drank from the strong retsina

Like the heroes of hedonism do. 

----------------------------------------------------------

Επήγα

Δεν εδεσμεύθηκα. Τελείως αφέθηκα και επήγα.

Στες απολαύσεις, που μισό πραγματικές,

μισό γυρνάμενες μες στο μυαλό μου ήσαν,

επήγα μες στην φωτισμένη νύχτα.

Κ' ήπια από δυνατά κρασιά, καθώς

που πίνουν οι ανδρείοι της ηδονής.

The Bank of the Future

From an unpublished fragment of Cavafy (1897)

They issue the certificate in the bank of the future,

Limited shares, a dangerous credit risk

And if the enterprise topples, if the hopes end up counterfeit

It at least will be mine, the wood account, forever in the red.

But the worst part is the usury to merely exist

And my will is in a vice, a heavy vice

I pay and pay but nothing ends any more

And always, always, the same stays my debt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Η Τράπεζα του Μέλλοντος

Στην Τράπεζα του Μέλλοντος λίγες μετοχές να βγάζω·

είναι πολύ επικίνδυνη η πίστωσις εκεί.

Κι αν η επιχείρησις αποτύχει, αν οι ελπίδες είναι ψεύτικες,

τότε θα μείνει ο λογαριασμός μου πάντα ελλειμματικός.

Αλλ’ όμως, το χειρότερο είν’ οι τόκοι της ζωής,

που είναι τόσο βαρείς, τόσο πολύ βαρείς.

Πληρώνω, και πληρώνω, και δεν τελειώνω πια.

Και μένω, και μένω, με το χρέος μου πάντα το ίδιο.

Cavafy's Ithaca

As Cavafy's most famous poem, Ithaka has been translated many times. But as Cavafy's birthday present to me, I thought I'd try a hand at his inspirational words.

When you set out on your pilgrimage to Ithaca

Be fervent that it's long the road,

Loaded with plot twists, loaded with things learned.

The man-eating giants and the one-eyed ones,

Don't fear them, nor the Lord of the Sea;

Things like that you will never in your life find.

Keep a high-vibe point of view, then aristocratic

Stirs will move your spirit and graze across your skin.

The Laestrygonians and the Cyclops,

The Lord of Storms you won't ever come upon

Unless you haul them with your whole soul,

Unless your whole soul puts them in the scene.

I pray for you that the road is long.

May you wake to many summer mornings

When, with what gratification, what delight

You enter ports that you have never seen before.

You should pause at the Phoenician emporiums

And secure exceptional merchandise,

Mother of pearl and coral, succinite and Gaboon ebony,

Arousing aromatics of every kind.

Arouse as many aromas as you can

And slip into Egyptian cities as you will

To learn and learn from the masters of the work.

Always hold this Ithaca in your mind.

The arrival is the end of your mission.

Don't rush the journey in the least

Better it endures for many years;

And a now old man drops an anchor by the shore, 

Wealthy with all he has earned along the way,

Having learned there are no riches in Ithaca.

Ithaca gave you the beautiful journey.

Without her, you would not have set out.

But she does not have a thing to give you now.

And if you find her meagre, Ithaca never mocked you

Because it made you wise from the experience.

By then you will have gathered what the Ithacas are for.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Ιθάκη

Σα βγεις στον πηγαιμό για την Ιθάκη,

να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος,

γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις.

Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας,

τον θυμωμένο Ποσειδώνα μη φοβάσαι,

τέτοια στον δρόμο σου ποτέ σου δεν θα βρεις,

αν μεν’ η σκέψις σου υψηλή, αν εκλεκτή

συγκίνησις το πνεύμα και το σώμα σου αγγίζει.

Τους Λαιστρυγόνας και τους Κύκλωπας,

τον άγριο Ποσειδώνα δεν θα συναντήσεις,

αν δεν τους κουβανείς μες στην ψυχή σου,

αν η ψυχή σου δεν τους στήνει εμπρός σου.

Να εύχεσαι νάναι μακρύς ο δρόμος.

Πολλά τα καλοκαιρινά πρωϊά να είναι

που με τι ευχαρίστησι, με τι χαρά

θα μπαίνεις σε λιμένας πρωτοειδωμένους,

να σταματήσεις σ’ εμπορεία Φοινικικά,

και τες καλές πραγμάτειες ν’ αποκτήσεις,

σεντέφια και κοράλλια, κεχριμπάρια κ’ έβενους,

και ηδονικά μυρωδικά κάθε λογής,

όσο μπορείς πιο άφθονα ηδονικά μυρωδικά,

σε πόλεις Αιγυπτιακές πολλές να πας,

να μάθεις και να μάθεις απ’ τους σπουδασμένους.

Πάντα στον νου σου νάχεις την Ιθάκη.

Το φθάσιμον εκεί ειν’ ο προορισμός σου.

Αλλά μη βιάζεις το ταξείδι διόλου.

Καλλίτερα χρόνια πολλά να διαρκέσει

και γέρος πια ν’ αράξεις στο νησί,

πλούσιος με όσα κέρδισες στο δρόμο,

μη προσδοκώντας πλούτη να σε δώσει η Ιθάκη.

'H Ιθάκη σ’έδωσε τ’ ωραίο ταξείδι.

Χωρίς αυτήν δεν θάβγαινες στον δρόμο.

Άλλα δεν έχει να σε δώσει πια.

Κι αν πτωχική την βρεις, η Ιθάκη δε σε γέλασε.

Έτσι σοφός που έγινες, με τόση πείρα,

ήδη θα το κατάλαβες οι Ιθάκες τι σημαίνουν.

Cavafy and his Versions

Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis, who was born 163 years ago today and died 93 years ago today, spent most of his 70 years living alone as an obscure civil servant in Alexandria, Egypt (where he was born and died) but with a rich inner life that eventually qualified him -- posthumously -- to be considered one of the modern poetic masters, in Greek or any language. As a translator, I have to admit that at least half of the excitement of Cavafy is how impossible to translate he is. I've spoken of this difficulty before when I attempted a few of his perfect verses but, in hindsight, he inspired perhaps my favorite of all my translations with his chilling ode to his home city.

The "published" works comprising his collected poems consisted of what would best be called mimeographs sent privately to friends. But there were many unpublished poems and fragments left in notebooks at his death that provide a rare glimpse into his process. Below are essentially three versions of the same poem: a preliminary sketch, a more complete (and honest) version, and finally the canonical version that beautifully expresses what has been taken out in the revision process. 

Some 40 years ago -- and even if it never comes.

It is now that adjacent table,

At the adjacent table.

A youth who was sprawled

Some 40 years ago,

It appears that way to me.

And the adjacent tables,

The far away tables,

The place we used to haunt

Still is.

---

He must be not 22, or scarcely

But I am most sure that some 40 years ago 

I pleased myself on the same body, the same ideal.

It's not a mirage. It's not from the wine. 

Some 40 years ago -- but the space is filled the same,

Same sloping neck, the same hopelessness.

I looked at him from my seat at the adjacent table.

How the time has now passed. How I became like this.

This stranger, this fossil, in the people world.

---

It must be true -- scarcely 22 years old.

But I know that it was many years ago,

Almost the same -- that I enjoyed that same body.

It is not at all an erotic fantasy.

Now I have just entered the casino;

I didn't have time to even drink much.

The same body I enjoyed.

And if I don't remember where -- my oblivion is not saying.

And now he sits at the adjacent table.

I recognize every movement of his -- and under his threads

I see again those beloved limbs, naked.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Είναι τώρα εκείνο το διπλανό τραπέζι.

Στο διπλανό το τραπέζι

ένα νέο παιδί που κάθονταν,

πριν από σαράντα χρόνια,

μου φαίνεται πως είναι.

Και τα διπλανά τραπέζια,

κ’ εκείνα τα τραπέζια,

που κάποτε συχνάζαμε,

θα είναι.

---

Το διπλανό τραπέζι (Unpublished draft)

Πρέπει να ’ναι μόλις είκοσι δύο ετών.

Κι όμως είμαι βέβαιος πως πριν σαράντα χρόνια

απόλαυσα το ίδιο το σώμα, την ίδια αγάπη.

Δεν είναι παραίσθησις. Δεν είναι από τα κρασιά.

Σαράντα χρόνια — κι όμως η ίδια κίνησις,

η ίδια γραμμή του σβέρκου, η ίδια απελπισία.

Καθόμουν και τον κοίταζα στο διπλανό τραπέζι.

Πώς πέρασαν τα χρόνια. Πώς έγινα έτσι.

Σαν ξένος, σαν ερείπιο, μες στον κόσμο αυτόν.

---

Το διπλανό τραπέζι (Published version)

Πρέπει να ’ναι μόλις είκοσι δυό ετών.

Κι όμως είμαι βέβαιος πως πριν από τόσα χρόνια —

σχεδόν τα ίδια — απόλαυσα το ίδιο το σώμα.

Δεν είναι καθόλου ερωτική φαντασία.

Τώρα μόλις μπήκα μες στο καζίνo·

δεν πρόφθασα ούτε πολύ να πιώ.

Το ίδιο σώμα απόλαυσα εγώ.

Κι αν δεν θυμούμαι πού — μια λησμονιά δεν λέγει τίποτε.

Τώρα που κάθισε στο διπλανό τραπέζι

γνωρίζω κάθε κίνησί του — και κάτω απ’ τα φορέματα,

ξαναβλέπω τα μέλη τα αγαπημένα, γυμνά.

For more, go to the Cavafy Online Archive

Half an Hour

Unpublished fragment from C.P. Cavafy (1917)

Neither did I secure you, nor will you be secured

Never, I suppose. A few words, an approach

Like at the bar the other day, and nothing more.

It is, I won't not say, a pity. But in Art

The believers take pleasure in the sketch of what could happen 

With anticipation, and with the casting 

So that my most aesthetic of desires

Become, for a moment, almost authentic.

And I sat at the bar for a half of an hour

Contemplating beside you, and without feeling you.

------------------------------------------------

Μισή Ώρα

Μήτε σε απέκτησα, μήτε θα σε αποκτήσω

ποτέ, θαρρώ. Λίγα λόγια, μια προσέγγισις

όπως στο μπαρ τις προάλλες, και τίποτε άλλο.

Είναι, δεν λέγω, λύπη. Αλλά της Τέχνης

ο πιτός ηδονίζεται με την σχεδίασιν.

Με την αναμονήν, και με την πλάσην,

έτσι που οι πιο αισθητές μου επιθυμίες

για λίγο γίνονται σχεδόν πραγματικές.

Και κάθισα στο μπαρ μισή ώρα

κοιτάζοντας κοντά σου, και χωρίς να σε έχω.

On the Stairs

An unpublished fragment from C.P. Cavafy (1904)

Precisely when I descended the stairs of the palace of whispers

That's when you came to the threshold for a shivering instant

Stranger with a mask, unrecognized but you recognized me.

I vanished in the shadows so you would not see me again,

You passed quickly hiding your face

And slipped inside the claustrophobic house

Where you wouldn't lick the risk of deliverance — nor would I.

Nevertheless I had it in me, the love you ached for in your bones,

The love I needed — you glanced me with your world-weary eyes —

The key that was supposed to free it.

Our bodies hung aestheticized in yearning one another;

Our blood and our skin understood

But we both hid in the dark — from the agitation.

---------------------------------

Στα Σκαλιά

Καθώς κατέβαινα την κακόφημη σκάλα

εσύ έμπαινες στην πόρτα, και για μια στιγμή

είδα το άγνωστο πρόσωπό σου και με είδες.

Έπειτα κρύφτηκα για να μη με ξαναδείς,

και πέρασες γρήγορα το πρόσωπό σου κρύβοντας,

και χώθηκες στο κακόφημο σπίτι

όπου δεν θα έβρισκες την ηδονή, καθώς δεν την βρήκα εγώ.

Κι όμως την αγάπη που ήθελες την είχα να σου δώσω·

την αγάπη που ήθελα — μου το είπε η κουρασμένη ματιά σου —

την είχες να μου δώσεις.

Τα σώματά μας αισθάνθηκαν και ζήτησαν το ένα το άλλο·

το αίμα και το δέρμα μας ενόησαν.

Αλλά κρυφθήκαμε και οι δυο ταραγμένοι.

Sappho in Her Later Years

In our final look at Sappho, we see her reflect on her life and legacy. Conventional scholarship did not prepare me for how sad these fragments are. 

Another attack

And lamenting.

Trembling ... again.

My skin is old already

It's moved in

Every crack.

Flies pursue

The noble girls.

They've taken up ...

Sing a song for us ...

Violet bandeaus. 

Most
Wander off.

---

You will remember

For we too in our youth

What we made of things

Much, yes, beauty

Piercing the city

We lived to oppose

Thin of voice

Bold in footing

---

Let go

Ship

Too refined 

Was left behind

What we were

Adrift 

---

Any claim

Of standing I have 

Came from deeds 

The girls

Gave

What was their own

---

And now the ambrosia

Pestle and a bowl,

Hermes poured for the gods from his oinochoe

And they offered prayers

Cradling their wines

For all the good things they knew would be mine.

---

To be remembered

Someone

I say

A different other

Someone

Of us

--------------------------------------

21

]

] . επαβολησ̣[

]α̣νδ᾿ ὄλοφυν  [ . . . . ]ε.

]    τρομέροις π . [ . . ]α̣λλα

]

]  χρόα γῆρας ἤδη

]ν ἀμφιβάσκει

]ς πέταται διώκων

]

]τας ἀγαύας

]ε̣α, λάβοισα

]ἄεισον ἄμμι

τὰν ἰόκολπον

]ρων μάλιστα

]ας π[λ]άναται

24a

]ανάγα̣[

] . [   ]εμνάσεσθ᾿ ἀ[

κ]αὶ γὰρ ἄμμες ἐν νεό[τατι

ταῦ̣τ̣᾿ [ἐ]πόημμεν·

πό̣λ̣λ̣α̣ [μ]ὲν γὰρ καὶ κά[λα

. . . η̣ . [  ]μεν, πολι[

ἂμμε̣[  .  ]ὀ[ξ]είαις δ̣[

] . . [ . ] . . [

24b-d

[ ]νθα[].έδαφο[

τ̣ο̣ . [ζ]ώομ[εν]α̣ικατε[

γ̣α[ . ] . . []ω̣ · ν . . []ανέλο[

ἀνδά[]εναντ[]

] . αι . []α̣πάππ[] .  [  ] . αι

τ]όλμανλ]επτοφών[

]ανθρω[] . εα̣.[

]ονεχ[

]παισα̣[

25

]γμε . [

]προλιπ[

]ναῦσεπ[

ἄ]βρα·

ἐ]γλάθαν’ ἐσ̣[

]ησμεθα̣[

]ν̣υνθαλα[

32

αἴ με τιμίαν ἐπόησαν ἔργα

τὰ σφὰ δοῖσαι

141

κῆ δ’ ἀμβροσίας μὲν

κράτηρ ἐκέκρατ’,

Ἔρμαις δ’ ἔλων ὄλπιν θέοισ’ ἐοινοχόησε.

κῆνοι δ’ ἄρα πάντες

καρχάσι’ ἦχον

κἄλειβον, ἀράσαντο δὲ πάμπαν ἔσλα γάμβρῳ

147

μνάσεσθαί τινά φαῖμι καὶ ἕτερον ἀμμέων.

Sappho on the Laws for Men

Another side of Sappho can be seen in her biting social commentary, which has come through only in small gnomic utterances. While fewer in number than her lectures to women, they don't lack their bite.

Like the gods I abhor 

The overfull

Superficial

Who do not hold up

Their oath

Without trickery

Chilly

Here's the

Door

---

For the one, indeed, 

Is beautiful

Only insofar

As one sees

What turns out

To be

Or ... the ethical

Beautiful

Immediately

---

Cacophonous

In the chest

Impulse rages

Reckless tongues

Again

Not silenced

As idleness

Must be

Held in check

--------------------------------------

68a

]ι̣ γάρ μ’ ἀπὺ τὰς ἐ̣ . [

ὔ]μως δ’ ἔγεν[το

] ἴσαν θέοισιν

]ασαν ἀλίτρα[

Ἀν]δρομέδαν [ . ] . αξ[

]αρ[ . . . ] . α μ̣ά̣κα̣[ιρ]α

]ε̣ον δὲ τρόπον α[ . ] . ύνη[

] κ̣όρο̣ν οὐ κατισχ̣ε . [

]κ̣α[ . . . . . ] . Τυνδαρίδαι[ς

]ασυ[ . ] . . . κα[ . ] χαρίεντ’ ἀ . [

]κ’ ἄδολον [μ]ηκέτι συν[

] Μεγά̣ρα . [ . . ]ν̣α[ . . . ]α[

68b

] . . . . φ[

] . [ . ]’θύρα . [

]μ̣οι χάλε . [

]δεκύ[

] . οπάλην ὄλ̣[

]ε[

50

ὀ μὲν γὰρ κάλος ὄσσον ἴδην πέλεται ⟨καλος⟩,

ὀ δὲ κἄγαθος αὔτικα καὶ κάλος ἔσσεται.

158

σκιδναμὲνας ἐν στήθεσιν ὄργας

μαψυλάκαν γλῶσσαν πεφύλαχθα

Sappho's Liturgy of the Vessel

The ['s and ]'s in the original Aeolic Greek below represent gaps of indeterminate length in the physical papyrus that can't be remedied -- when the lines in between are often one, two words, often just participles or less. Thus most standard translations that actually try to take on this word salad have a distinct broken porcelain feel. This particularly shredded set of threadbare fragments needs to be padded with imaginative and historical reconstructions of their cultic setting to be reclaimed. 

The Summoning

Memories remain

Of the Thyoisi

That bore what was proper

In the steps of the Mystai

For we’ve not known it

In deeds

Afterwards

Dishonored

When said

---

Rose bouqueted

In their arms

Come

The daughters

Of Zeus

Ritually pure

The Kharites,

The Graces,

Step forth!

---

Stars surround

The lamp of Selanna

Concealing

The lesser lights

And forms

At this turn

When she is full

Most luminous

The earth

---

He arrives now

Out of the sky

To our circle

And dons

The living

Porphyry purple

Chlamys

Of office

And crosses

The Transformation

So it went

To want the children

To fulfill the design

I call the heart

To will it true

Here and now

My luxury

Must be

Persuaded

---

Feet --

A sandal --

Lydian

Fashioned

To consecration

Sanctioned by touch

By beauty

Kept the toes

Inside

---

To you

Beautiful ones

It’s on me

The plan

The shape

The weight

Does not circulate

Not up for

Negotiation

---

We are raw

Shaken

Weary

The weight

Of the wait

Makes us sit

But come

Oh dear ones

Daylight is nearing

---

I will join

Everyone

Together

For celebration 

High vibration

Dancing

Rites in motion

Chorus

Pure in tone

 

The Departure 

Once you were a child

Perform now the rites

Of song and dance!

Voice the sacred words

To transfer grace

Before you're whisked away

Where maidens go

On the great path

To Olympus

---

You tucked your wings

The Daphne still 

Apollo-scented

I hardly heard

The wayfarer

Anymore

On her return

To the one

Hallowed soul

---

Oneiros from the Abyss

You haunted me 

Like a ghost

God of glucose

I hold my divine force apart

Hope holds me

Not to have a share

In the nothing held 

By blessed ones

---

Your allotment, 

Sappho my love

The Queen of Cyprus

Hears your eclat

Acclaimed all around

Even in Acheron

Unforgotten

Even on the river

Of Oblivion

---

Go gentle

Of the Aegis-Bearer

Cytherea, I pray

You know my heart

Hear my prayers

Like you have before

Godforsaken

For my voice

Gravel dry 

------------------------------------------------

19

]

]μενοισα[

]θ᾿ ἐν θύοισι[

]ἔχοσισαν ἔσλ[

]

]εἰ δὲ βαισα[

]ὐ γὰρ ἴδμεν[

]ιν ἔργων[

  ]

  ]δ᾿ ὐπίσσω[

κ]ἀπικυδ[

]τοδ᾿ εἴπη[

53

βροδοπάχεες ἄγναι Χάριτες δεῦτε Δίος κόραι

34

ἄστερες μὲν ἀμφὶ κάλαν σελάνναν

ἂψ ἀπυκρύπτοισι φάεννον εἶδος

ὄπποτα πλήθοισα μάλιστα λάμπη

γᾶν

54

ἐλθόντ᾿ ἐξ ὀράνω πορφυρίαν περθέμενον χλάμυν

60

]τύχοισα

]θέλ᾿ ωνταπαίσαν

τέ]λ̣εσον νόημμα

]έτων κάλημι

]πεδὰ θῦμον αἶψα

ὄ]σ̣σα τύχην θελήση[ς

]ρ ἔμοι μάχεσθα[ι

χ]λιδάναι πίθεισα[ν

]ι, σὺ δ᾿ εὖ γὰρ οἶσθα

]έτει τα[ . ] . λε . .

]κλ̣ασ[

39

πόδας δὲ

ποίκιλος μάσλης ἐκάλυπτε, Λύδι-

ον κάλον ἔργον

41

ταὶς κάλαισ᾿ ὔμιν <τὸ> νόημμα τὦμον

οὐ διάμειπτον

43

]α̣ι̣·

]

]λ̣ε̣τ̣αι̣

][[κ]]αλος

]. ἄκαλα κλόνει

]κάματος φρένα

]ε̣ κ̣ατισδάνε[ι]

] ἀλλ᾿ ἄγιτ᾿ , ὦ φίλαι,

], ἄγχι γὰρ ἀμέρα. 

70

]α̣μ̣.λ.[

]ναμ[

]ν̣ δ’ εἶμ’ ε[

]ρσομέν[

]λικ’ ὐπα[

] … [.]βα[

]ς̣ γὰρ ἐ̣παυ[

] μάν κ’ ἀπυ̣θ̣υσ̣[

] αρμονίας δ̣[

πολυγ]άθην χόρον, ἄα[

]δ̣ε λίγηα . [

]ατόν σφι̣[

] πάντεσσι[

]επ[.].[

27

]κ̣αιπ̣[

] . [ . ] . [ . ] ν̣οσ[

]σι·

. . . ] . καὶ γὰρ δ̣ὴ σὺ πάις ποτ[

. . . ]ι̣κ̣ης μέλπεσθ᾿ ἄγι ταῦτα[

. . ] ζάλεξαι, κἄμμ᾿ ἀπὺ τωδεκ[

ἄ]δρα χάρισσαι·

σ]τείχομεν γὰρ ἐς γάμον· εὖ δε[

κα[ὶ σὺ τοῦτ᾿, ἀλλ᾿ ὄττι τάχιστα[

πα]ρ̣[θ]ένοις ἄπ[π]εμπε, θέοι[

]εν ἔχοιεν

] ὄδος̣ μ[έ]γαν εἰς Ὄλ[υμπον

ἀ]νθρω[π  ]αίκ.[

62

ἐπτάξατε̣[

δάφνας ὄτα̣[

πὰν δ᾿ ἄδιον[

ἢ κῆνον ἐλο[

καί ταῖσι μὲν ἀ̣[

ὀδοίπορος ἄν[ . . . . ] . . [

μύγις δέ ποτ᾿ εἰσάιον· ἐκλ̣[

ψύχα δ᾿ ἀγαπάτα συ ´.

τέαυτα δὲ νῦν ἔμμ̣[

ἴκεσθ᾿ ἀγανα[

ἔφθατε· κάλαν[

τά τ᾿ ἔμματα κα̣[ 

63

ὄνοιρε μελαινα[,

φ[ο]ίταις ὄτα τ’ ὔπνος[

γλύκυς̣ θ̣[έ]ο̣ς, ἦ δεῖν’ ὀνίας μ]

4.ζά χῶρις ἔχην τάν δυναμ[

ἔλπις δέ μ’ ἔχει μὴ πεδέχη[ν

μηδὲν μακάρων ἐλ̣[

ο̣ὐ̣ γάρ κ’ ἔον οὔτω[ . ́.

8.ἀθύρματα κα . [

γένοιτο δέ μοι[

τοὶς πάντα[  

65

….. ] … α[

….. ]ρομε[

….. ]. ελασ̣[

.ροτ̣ήννεμε[

Ψάπφοι, σεφίλ[

Κύπρωι̣ β̣[α]σίλ[

καίτοι μέγα δ . [

ὄ]σσοις φαέθων̣[

πάνται κλέος[

καί σ’ ἐνν Ἀχέρ[οντ

.. [ …… ]ν̣π̣[

86

ακάλα.[

]α̣ἰ̣γιόχω λ̣α̣[

]. Κ̣υ̣θέρη’ ε̣ὐ̣χ̣ομ[

]ο̣ν ἔχοισα θῦμο̣[ν

κλ]ῦθί μ̣’ ἄρας αἴ π[οτα κἀτέρωτ

]ας π̣ρ̣ολίποισ̣α κ[

]. πεδ’ ἔμαν ἰώ[

] . ν χα̣λέπαι . [

Sappho on the Laws for Women

In this set of mostly destroyed fragments Sappho speaks for a culture where sexual conduct, ritual preparation and poetic receptivity are indivisible and subject to rules. Sappho does not judge, moralize or console: she points out the consequences of misalignment.

If there is someone as odiously low

As you, Eirana, I have never met them.

---

Kypris, may she pick your last embittered nerve,

And give her no cover to share more heroics,

Doricha, with her enticement thing again,

Eros, he came.

---

Mica despised,

The intimacies you’ve taken with Penthelia

Turned our circle inside out.

I will never allow you:

The measures of song …

The sweetness of voice …

The sound of the wind …

The dew.

---

But you, O Dika, gather proper clusters,

Binding your garlands with the gentlest hands,

For the Graces then will thrive  – while the unwreathed

They turn away from.

---

There’ll never be a time you’ll be remembered

When you’ve died, or be seen even in Hades,

For you’ve refused the roses of the muses

And turned to vapor.

---------------------------------------------------------------

91

ἀσαροτέρας οὐδάμα πω Εἴρανα σέθεν τύχοισαν

15

Κύ]πρι κα[ί σ]ε πι[κροτάτ]α̣ν ἐπεύρ[οι,

μη]δὲ καυχάσ[α]ιτο τόδ’ ἐννέ[ποισα

Δ]ωρίχα, τὸ δεύ[τ]ερον ὠς πόθε]ννον

εἰς] ἔρον ἦλθε. 

71

]μισσε Μίκα

]ελα[ . . ]ἀ̣λ̣λά σ’ ἔγωὐκ ἐάσω

]ν̣ φιλότ[ατ’] ἤλεο Πενθιλήαν̣[

]δα κα̣[κό]τροπ’, ἄμμα[

] μέλ̣[ος] τι γλύκερον .[

]α μελλιχόφων[ος

]δει, λίγυραι δ’ ἄη[ται

] δροσ[ό]εσσα[

81

σὺ δὲ στεφάνοις, ὦ Δίκα, πέρθεσθ’ ἐράτοις φόβαισιν

ὄρπακας ἀνήτω συν⟨α⟩έρραισ’ ἀπάλαισι χέρσιν·

εὐάνθεα †γὰρ πέλεται† καὶ Χάριτες μάκαιραι

μᾶλλον προτόρην,1 ἀστεφανώτοισι δ’ ἀπυστρέφονται.

55

κατθάνοισα δὲ κείσῃ οὐδέ ποτα μναμοσύνα σέθεν

ἔσσετ’ οὐδὲ πόθα εἰς ὔστερον·1 οὐ γὰρ πεδέχῃς βρόδων

τὼν ἐκ Πιερίας, ἀλλ’ ἀφάνης κἀν Ἀίδα δόμῳ

φοιτάσῃς πεδ’ ἀμαύρων νεκύων ἐκπεποταμένα.

Sappho and Her Brother

Truth is often stranger than fiction: it would not seem logical that the model for the Cinderella story would be a fellow slave with Aesop, the fairy tale maker – but such was the case with Doricha, who Sappho's brother Charaxos squandered the family fortune on to free from prostitution in Thrace (after which the Thracian king, having only one of her slippers, had her looked for all over the land). The blow to the family Brand was such Sappho uses the occasion to conduct a public audit, acutely aware of how stories about women are often used to manage male failure.

Kypris and Nereids may he be returned

Unscathed, unstained, my brother, back to our home.

Anything that he desires, let him procure.

All things will be done.

Release what happened before, Immortal One,

Let him become welcome again to his friends,

Keep his foes at a distance – and may we receive

Not one other slap.

... And may he wish to consider his sister

To have a share in his honor, pain and shame,

… The humiliation before citizens

… Kypris, trembling.

---

All of that gossip you've spread that Charaxos

Will arrive with a full ship, Zeus I suppose

Knows all of this but it’s none of your business

To hypothesize.

Could you tell me instead how to be of use?

I have many skills -- supplicate Queen Hera

I could to help Charaxos safely arrive

Along with his ship

And us find him intact. And everything else

Let us entrust to our personal daemon

For out of a great storm comes beautiful peace

Just as suddenly.

And the King of Olympus if he wishes 

To bless us and make us very prosperous

Just one bolt of coercion could flip our fate,

Could be salvation.

And we could do that too, if his head lifts up

And Larichos becomes at last a man, then

The exhaustion, the heavy burden would be

Released like the wind.

A Note on Provenance: While Fragment 5 has been known about for centuries, its near-complete restoration—and the discovery of the "Brothers Poem"—only occurred in 2014. This "New Sappho" emerged under a cloud of international controversy. The find, by papyrologist Dirk Obbink, became embroiled in a scandal involving Iraq war antiquities profiteering, the Museum of the Bible and Hobby Lobby. Despite this shadowy journey, the text itself is widely accepted as authentic, providing the first direct confirmation of Sappho’s brothers, Charaxos and Larichos, effectively moving them from the realm of later biographical legend into her poetic canon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

5

Κύπρι καὶ] Νηρήιδες ἀβλάβη[ν μοι

τὸν κασί]γνητον δ[ό]τε τυίδ’ ἴκεσθα[ι

κὤσσα ϝ]οι θύμῳ κε θέλῃ γένεσθαι

πάντα τε]λέσθην,

ὄσσα δὲ πρ]όσθ’ ἄμβροτε πάντα λῦσα[ι

καὶ φίλοισ]ι ϝοῖσι χάραν γένεσθαι

κὠνίαν ἔ]χθροισι, γένοιτο δ’ ἄμμι

πῆμ’ ἔτι μ]ηδ’ εἴς·

τὰν κασιγ]νήταν δὲ θέλοι πόησθαι

ἔμμορον] τίμας [ὀν]ίαν δὲ λύγραν

              ]οτοισι π[ά]ροιθ’ ἀχεύων

].να

              ].εισαΐω[ν] τὸ κέγχρω

                ]λ’ επαγ̣[ορί]ᾳ πολίταν

                ]λλως̣[. . .]νηκε δ’ αῦτ’ οὐ

]κρω[

              ]οναικ[ ]εο[  ].ι

              ]..[.]ν· σὺ [δ]ὲ̣ Κύπ̣[ρ]ι̣ σ̣[έμ]να

                   ]θεμ[έν]α κάκαν [

]ι.      

 

“The Brothers Poem”

ἀλλ’ ἄϊ θρύλησθα Χάραξον ἔλθην

νᾶϊ σὺν πλήαι. τὰ μὲν̣ οἴο̣μα̣ι Ζεῦς

οἶδε σύμπαντές τε θέοι · σὲ δ’ οὐ χρῆ

ταῦτα νόησθαι,

ἀλλὰ καὶ πέμπην ἔμε καὶ κέλεσθαι

πόλλα λί̣σσεσθαι̣ βασί̣λ̣η̣αν Ἤ̣ραν

ἐξίκεσθαι τυίδε σάαν ἄγοντα

νᾶα Χάραξον

κἄμμ’ ἐπεύρην ἀρτ̣έ̣μεας. τὰ δ’ ἄλλα

πάντα δαιμόνεσσ̣ιν ἐπι̣τ̣ρόπωμεν·

εὔδιαι γ̣ὰρ̣ ἐκ μεγάλαν ἀήτα̣ν̣

αἶψα πέ̣λ̣ο̣νται.

τῶν κε βόλληται βασίλευς Ὀλύμπω

δαίμον’ ἐκ πόνων ἐπάρωγον ἤδη

περτρόπην, κῆνοι μ̣άκαρες πέλονται

καὶ πολύολβοι·

κἄμμες, αἴ κε τὰν κεφάλα̣ν ἀέρρ̣η

Λάρι̣χος καὶ δή ποτ’ ἄνη̣ρ γένηται,

καὶ μάλ’ ἐκ πόλλαν βαρ̣υθυ̣μίαν̣ κεν

αἶψα λύθειμεν.    

Sappho and Her Mystery School

These four fragments (along with 94, 95, 96 and 98) are almost certainly all that is left of a book of Sappho’s poetry (one of nine) lost from the Alexandria library. In these are tantalizing hints about the practices of ancient mystery schools, from within the space where their rites occurred.

Fit …

The peplos

Made ready.

Saffron crocus.

The peplos absorbs

The murex,

The vesture

Gold.

The anadem seals,

Makes visible.

The purple

Rug

Rouses.

---

Vesper, who bears it all,

What dawn made visible,

Gathers the scattered,

Brings the wine,

Brings the goat,

Brings the child to its mother.

---

… The stars, for their part, are swiftly occluded

In their visible form by the fine-tuned moon

Whenever the swelling’s at maximal lamp

And silvers the ground.

---

Step small

For the Polyxenaktidai

... Suddenly ringing the strings

... The fret shell holds the dance

And excessive gratitude

As it vibrates like a dervish

In frenzied inspiration,

Divine flow.

Leto and the child of Zeus, Apollo ...

Temper your rites, 

Lay them on again

Leaving wooded Grýnion behind,

Where the oracle performs ...

Lay the patterns on again,

Sing the ritual cry,

Make the frenzy visible.

------------------------------------------

92

π̣ε̣[

χρ[........]περ[

πέπλον[..]π̣υ̣σ̣χ̣[

καὶ κλ̣ε̣[..]σαω[

κροκοεντα[

πέπλον πορφυ[ρ.......]δ̣εξω̣[

χλαιναι περσ̣[

στέφανοι περ[

καλ[..]ο̣σ̣σ̣α̣μ̣[

φρυ[

πορφ[υρ

τ̣α̣π̣α̣[

π[

93

Ἔσπερε, πάντα φέρων,

ὄσσα φαίνετ’ Αὔως

ἐσκέδασ’, ἄγεις·

φέρεις οἶνον,

φέρεις αἶγα,

φέρεις ἄπυ μάτερι παῖδα.

97

… ἄστερες μὲν ἀμφὶ κάλαν σελάνναν

αἶψ’ ἀπίκρυπτον φάεννον εἶδος,

ὄπποτα πλήθοισα μάλιστα λάμπη

γᾶν [ἐπ’] ἀργυρίαν·

99a/c

] . γα .π̣εδὰ βαῖο̣[ν

δ̣[ . ]οῖ Πωλυανακτ[ίδ]αι̣ς ϝ..πα[

.. . . αισσαμιασι.ι̣ε.[ . ]το̣ις

ωνηρ[

χόρδαισι διακρέ̣κην και φαι.[

ὀ̣λ̣ι̣σ̣β̣ . δόκο̣ι̣σ̣⟨ι⟩ περ̣καθ . . . . ενος ταισπα.[

ου.[ . . ]σι φιλοφρ[όν]ως

ἀκρωδ[

] . . . . δ’ ἐλελίσδ̣ε̣τ̣αι πρ.τ̣ανέ̣ως φοιται.[

]ω̣ν̣ος δὲ διο[ . . ]ω.. ] . τ̣αισε[

] . υαλ̣ωδ’ .[ . ] . . ε̣νη̣τ̣ε̣[ . . ]

] . . [

99b

⊗ Λάτως] τε καὶ Δ̣ί̣[ος] πάϊ[ς

ξύσα[

] . . ε . . . [ . ]ἔπιθ̣’ ὀ̣ρ̣γία̣ν

αὐτανε[

Γρύνηαν] ὐλ̣ώ̣δη̣⟨ν⟩ λίπω̣ν

ἀγκωνα[

ἐν χρη[σ]τ̣ή̣ριον ἐκπαισ’

χρηστήρι

] … ὀργιαναιμ’ ο.

πίκ.[ ]ν ὐμνε[

ὑμνέω

εὐο[ . ]δα.

δηὖτε Π̣ω̣λ̣υ̣α̣ν̣ακτίδαν

τὸν μάρ̣γον̣ ὄν̣δ̣ε̣ι̣ξ̣α̣ι̣ θέλω

More Haunting Sappho Fragments

Careful sound-by-sound, word-by-word translation of the mysterious fragments yields more mystery.

Not even

One gleam I deem

Facing upon

Radiancy sun

That's to be

Poem wisdom

Per the none

From the future no time they come

Like you can.

---

Don't forget

Someone

I say

And later on

May mind us.

---

By eyes seen

What reply means

---

Scattering glass

Stays in the ribs
Madness
Snaps at shadows;

Tantrum

Of an unlocked tongue.

---

Neither me nor the bee gleans the honey.

---

Even sweeter than a clack-harp melody ...
More gold than gold even ...

---

Tis tongueless ...

O Lover of Song ...

Dawn swallow

---

Chickpeas in fields

Rayed with gold

Above the salt shore ...

Profuse they grow.

-----------------------------------------

56

οὐδ᾿ ἴαν δοκίμωμι προσίδοισαν φάος ἀλίω

ἔσσεσθαι σοφίαν πάρθενον εἰς οὐδένα πω χρόνον

τεαύταν

147

μνάσεσθαί τινά φαμι καὶ ὕστερον ἀμμέων

162

τίοισιν ὀφθάλμοισιν

158

σκιδναμὲνας ἐν στήθεσιν ὄργας

μαψυλάκαν γλῶσσαν πεφύλαχθαι

146

μήτε μοι μέλι μήτε μέλισσα

156

πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα . . .

χρύσω χρυσοτέρα . . .

135

τίς δ᾿ ἄρα ... ὦ Πανδίονις ... Χελίδω

143

χρύσειοι δ' ἐρέβινθοι ἐπ' ἀϊόνων ἐφύοντο

Sappho on Surrender

Some archaic ritual fragments that reveal some modern personal truths.

Can't will

Can't fill

Entirely

Though I would

Flash my lampmask back

The color of my skin has changed.

----

I speak to you from dream, Kyprogenia.

----

All that I've

Explained,

Glossing

Mythologies,

Can be

Unspoken.

-------------------------------

4

 ]θ̣ε θῦμον

  ]μι πάμπαν

]δύναμαι,

  ]

  ]ας κεν ἦ μοι

  ]ς̣ ἀντιλάμπην

    ]λ̣ον πρόσωπον

]

    ]γ̣χροΐσθεις

           ]’[ . . ]ρος̣

134

ζά ⟨τ’⟩ ἐλεξάμαν ὄναρ, Κυπρογένηα

18

⟨π⟩άν κεδ[

⟨ἐ⟩ννέπην[

γλῶσσα μ[

μυθολογῆ̣[σαι,

κἆνδρι .[

μεσδον[

From Digital Sappho

Sappho 22

Unlike Sappho 3's private meditation, this fragment places her within a ritual circle, in a song for public performance on the right ordering of voice, desire and presence under the gaze of Aphrodite.

Blah ...

Performance ...

Test the Assembly

This time

In the open.

If you don't, the cold

Baring ache

Now ...

Sing, I ask you, Abanthis, of Gongyla,

Pick at the strings, pluck her echo of absence

Circuiting the air,

The loved one, bearing the weight of her return,

Who stunned you when you saw her into trembling, 

Which brought me succor

For I've been tagged with lacking the sanctified

Desire before, O Cyprus born

To whom I pray

That word, that sound

I die for.

---------------------------------------------------

]βλα.[

]εργον, . . λ᾿ α . . [

]ν ῤέθος δοκιμ̣[

]ησθαι

]ν αὐάδην χ . [

αἰ δ]ὲ μή, χείμων[

].οισαναλγεα . [

]δε

.]. ε .[ …. ] . [ … κ]έλομαι σ᾿ ἀ̣[είδην

Γο]γγύλαν̣ [Ἄβ]α̣νθι λαβοισαν ἀ . [

πᾶ[κτιν, ἆς̣ σε δηὖτε πόθος τ̣ . [

ἀμφιπόταται

τὰν κάλαν· ἀ γὰρ κατάγωγις αὔτ̣α[ς σ᾿

ἐπτόαισ᾿ ἴδοισαν, ἐγὼ δὲ χαίρω·

καὶ γαρ αὔτ̣α δήπο[τ᾿] ἐμέμφ[ετ᾿ ἄγνα

Κ]υπρογέν[ηα

ὠ̣ς ἄραμα̣[ι

τοῦτο τὦ[πος

β]όλλομα̣[ι

From Digital Sappho