Members
let me express something that is lethal to your mind
Poems
James Bradley McCallum
Apr 2012
1.
From my
uneasy bed
at the L’Enfant,
a train's pensive
horn breaks the
sullen lullaby of
an HVAC’s hum;
interrupting the
mechanical
reverie of its
steadfast
night watch,
allowing my ear
to discern
the stampede
of marauding
corporate Visigoths
sacking the city.
The cacophony
of sloven gluttony,
the ***** songs of
unrequited privilege
and the unencumbered
clatter of radical
entitlement echoes
off the city’s cold
crumbling stones.
The unctuous
bellows of the
victorious pillagers
profanely feasting
pierces the
hanging chill
of the nations
black night.
Their hoots
deride the train
transporting
the defeated
ghosts of
Lincoln’s last
doomed regiments
dispatched in vain
to preserve a
peoples republic
in a futile last stand.
The rebels have
finally turned the tide,
T Boone Pickett’s
Charge succeeds,
sending the ravaged
Grand Army of the
Republic sliding
back to the Capitol,
in savage servility,
gliding on squeaky
ungreased wheels
ferrying the
Union’s dead
vanquished
defenders to
unmarked graves
on Potters Field.
The Rebels
joyous yell
bounces off
the inert granite
stones of the
soulless city.
The spittle
of salivating
vandals drips
over the
spoils of war
as they initiate the
disassemblage,
the leveling and
reapportionment
of the grand prize.
The clever
oligarchs
have laid claim
to a righteous
reparation
of the peoples
assets for
pennies on the
dollar.
Their wholly
bought politicos
move to transfer
distressed assets
into their just
stewardship
through the
holy justice
of privatization
and the sound
rationale of
free market
solutions.
In the land of the
pursuit of property,
nimble wolf PACs
of swift 527, LLCs
have fully
metastasized
into personhood;
ascending to
the top of the
food chain in
America’s
voracious
political culture;
bestriding
the nation to
compel the
national will
to genuflect
to the cool facility
of corporate
dominion.
As the
inertial ******
of the plaintive
locomotive
fades into
another old
morning of
recalcitrant
Reaganism,
it lugs its
ambivalent
middle class
baggage toward
it’s fast expiring
future.
I follow
the dirge
down to
the street
as the ebbing
sound fades
into the gloom
of the
burgeoning
morning,
slowly
replacing the
purple twilight
with a breaking
day of cold gray
clouds framing
silhouettes of
cranes busily
constructing
a new city.
The personhood of
corporations need
homes in our new
republic; carving
out new
neighborhoods
suitable for the
monied citizens
of our nation.
First amongst
equals, the best
corporate governance
charters form
the foundation of
the republic’s
new constitution.
Civil rights
are secondary
to the freedom
of markets; the
Bill of Rights
are economically
replaced by the
cool manifests
of Bills of Lading.
The agents of
laissez faire
capitalism
nibble away
at the city’s
neighborhoods
one block at a time;
while steady winds
blows dust off
the National Mall.
Layers of the
peoples plaza are
plained away with
each rising gust.
History repeats
itself as the Joad’s
are routed from their
land once again.
A clever
mixed use
plan of
condos and
strip malls
is proposed
to finally help the
National Mall
unlock its true
profit potential.
As America’s
affection for
federalism fades
the water in
the reflection pool
is gracefully drained.
We the people
can no longer
see ourselves.
The profit
potential of
industry is
preferred over
the specious
metaphysical
benefits
of reflection.
The grand image,
the rich pastiche,
the quixotic aroma
of the national
melting ***
is reduced to the
sameness of the
black tar that lines
the pool and the
swirling eddies of
brown dust circling
the cracked indenture.
From his not so
distant vantage point,
Abe ponders the
empty pool wondering
if the cost of lives
paid was a worthy
endeavor of preserving
the ****** union?
Has the dear prize
won perished from
this earth?
Was the illusive
article of liberty
worth its weight in
the blood expended?
Did the people ever
fully realize the value
of government
by the people,
for the people?
Did citizens of
the republic
assume the
responsibilities to
protect and honor
the rights and privileges
of a representative
government?
Now our idea
and practice of
civil rights is measured
and promoted as far as
it can be justified by
a corporate ROI, a
shareholder dividend,
an earmark or a political
donation to a senators
unconnected PAC.
The divine celestial
ledgers balancing
the rights and
privilege of free people
drips with red ink.
Liberty, equality
fraternity are bankrupt
secular notions
condemned as
expensive
liberal seditions;
hatched by
UnHoly Jacobins,
the atheist skeptics
during the dark times
of the Age of Enlightenment.
Abe ponders
the restoration
of Washington’s
obelisk, to
repair the cracks
suffered from
last summer’s
freak earthquake.
I believe I detect
a tear in Abe’s
granite eye
saddened by the
corporate temblors
shaking the
foundations
of the city.
2.
The WWII Memorial
is America’s Parthenon
for a country's love
affair with the valor
and sacrifice of warfare.
WWII forms the
cornerstone of
understanding the
pathos of the
American Century.
During WWII
our greatest generation
rose as a nation to
defeat the menace of
global fascism and
indelibly mark the
power and virtue of
American democracy.
As Lincoln’s Army
saved federalism, FDR’s
Army kept the world safe
for democracy.
Both armies served
a nation that shared
the sacrifice and
burden of war to
preserve the grace of
a republican democracy.
Today federalism
crumbles as our
democracy withers.
The burden
of war is reserved
for a precious few
individuals while
its benefits
remain confined to
the corporate elite.
Our monuments
to war have become
commercial backdrops
for the hollow patriotism
of war profiteers.
We have mortgaged
our future to pay
for two criminal wars.
The spoils of
war flow into the
pockets of
corporate
shareholders
deeply invested
in the continuation
of pointless,
destructive
hostilities.
Our service
members who
selflessly served
their country come
home to a less free,
fear struck nation;
where economic
security and political
liberty erodes
each day while the
monied interests
continue to bless
the abundance
of freedom and riches
purchased with the
blood and sweat
of others.
America desperately
needs a new narrative.
The spirit of the
Greatest Generation
who sacrificed and met
the challenge of the 20th
Century must become
this generations spiritual
forebears.
The war on terror
neatly fits the
the corporate
pathos of
militarism,
surveillance
and the sacrifice
of civil liberties
to purchase
a daily measure
of fear and
economic
enslavement.
It must be rejected
by a people committed
to building secular
temples to pursue
peace, democracy,
economic empowerment,
civil liberties and tolerance
for all.
Yet this old city
and the democratic
temples it built
exulting a free people
anointed with the
grace of liberty
is being consumed
in a morass of
commercial
polyglot.
3.
During the
War of 1812
the British Army
burned the
Capitol Building
and the White House
to the ground.
Thank goodness
Dolly Madison saved
what she could.
The new marauders
are not subject to the
pull of nostalgia.
They value nothing
save their
self enrichment.
They will spare nothing.
Our besieged Capitol
requires Lincoln’s troops
to be stationed along the
National Mall to defend
the republic.
The greatest peril
to our nation
is being directed
by well placed
Fifth Columnists.
From the safety
of underground bunkers,
in secure undisclosed
locations within the city’s
parameters, a well financed
confederacy employing
K Street shenanigans
are busy selling off
the American Dream
one ear mark
at a time, one
huge corporate
welfare allotment
at a time.
The biggest prize
is looting the real
property of the people;
selling Utah,
auctioning off
the public schools,
water systems, post offices
and mineral rights
on the cheap
at an Uncle Sam
garage sale.
The capitol is
indeed burning
again.
Looters are
running riot.
The flailing arms
of a dying empire
fire off cruise
missiles and drone
strikes; hitting the
target of habeas
corpus as it
shakes in its
final death rattle.
I make a pilgrimage
to the MLK Jr.
Monument.
Our cultural identity
is outsourced to
foreign contractors
paid to reinterpret
the American Dream
through the eyes
of a lowest bidder.
MLK has lost
his humanity.
He has been
reduced to a
a Chinese
superhuman
Mao like anime
busting loose from
a granite mountain while
geopolitical irony
compels him to watch
Tommy Jefferson
**** Sally Hemings
from across the tidal
basin for all eternity.
MLK’s eyes fixed in
stern fascination,
forever enthralled
by the contradictions
of liberty and its
democratic excesses
of love in the willows
on golden pond.
Circling back to
Father Abraham’s
Monument, I huddle
with a group of global
citizens listening
to an NPS Ranger
spinning four score
tales with the last full
measure of her devotion.
I look up into Abe’s
stone eyes as he
surveys platoons
of gray suited
Chinese Communist
envoys engaged
in Long Marches
through the National Mall;
dutifully encircling cabinet
buildings and recruiting
Tea Party congressmen
into their open party cells.
This confederacy
is ready to torch
the White House
again.
Congressmen and
the perfect patriots
from K Street slavishly
pull their paymasters
in gilded rickshaws to
golf outings at the Pentagon
and park at the preferred
spots reserved for
the luxury box holders
at Redskin Games.
They vow not to rest
until the house of the people
is fully mortgaged to the
People’s Republic of China’s
Sovereign Wealth Fund.
4.
A great
Son of Liberty like
Alan Greenspan
roundly rings
the bells of
free markets
as he inches
T Bill rates
forward a few
basis points
at a time; while
his dead mentor
Ayn Rand
lifts Paul Ryan
to her
Fountainhead teet.
He takes a long
draw as she
coos songs
from her primer
of Atlas Shrugged
Mother Goose tales
into his silky ears.
The construction
cranes swing
to the music
building new private
sector space with
the largess of
US taxpayers
money; or
more rightly
future generations
taxpayer debt.
Libertarians,
Tea Baggers, Blue Dogs
and GOP waterboys
eagerly light a
match to the
the crucifixes
bearing federal
social safety
net programs
to the delight
of NASDAQ
listed capitalists
on the come,
licking their chops
to land contracts
to administer
these programs
at a negotiated
cost plus
profit margin.
Citizens
dependent
on programs
are leery
shareholders
are ecstatic.
To be sure
our free
market rebels
don disguises
of red, white
and blue robes
but their objectives
fail to distinguish
their motives and
methods with
some of the finest
Klansman this
country has
ever produced.
5.
DC is a city
of joggers
and choppers.
Corporate
helicopters
wizz by the
Washington
Monument,
popping erections
for the erectors
inspecting the progress
of the cranes
commanding the
city skyline.
USMC drill team
out for a morning
run circles the Mall.
The commanding
cadence of the
DI keeps us
mindful of the
deepening
militarization of
our society.
A crowd
rushes
to position
themselves,
genuflecting
to photograph
a platoon on
the move.
I try to consider
the defining
characteristics of
Washington DC.
DC is all surface.
It is full of walls
and mirrors.
Its primary hue
is obfuscation.
Open
communication
scripted from well
considered talking points
informs all dialog.
The city is thoroughly
enraptured in narcissism.
Thankfully, one can
always capture the
reflection of oneself in
the ubiquitous presence of
mirrors.
Vanity imprisons
the city inhabitants.
Young joggers circle the
Mall and gerrymander
down every pathway
of the city.
They are the clerks,
interns and staffers of
the judicial, executive
and legislative branches.
They are the children
of privilege.
They will never
alter their path.
You must cede the walk
to their entitlement
of a swift comportment
or risk injury of a
violent collision.
These young ones
portray a countenance
of benevolent rulers.
They seem to be learning
their trade craft well from
the senators and judges
whom they serve.
They appear confident
they know what's best
for the country and after
their one term of tireless
service to the republic
they look forward to
positions in the private
sector where they will
assist corporations
to extend their reach
into the pant pockets
worn by the body politic.
6.
Our nations mythic story
lies hidden deep in the
closed rooms of the
museums lining the
Mall.
I pause to consider
what a great nation
and its great people
once aspired to.
I spy the a
suspended
Space Shuttle
hanging in dry dock
at the air and
space museum.
Today America’s
astronauts hitch
rides on Russian
rockets.
America rents a
timeshare from
the European
space agency to
lift communication
satellites into orbit.
Across the Mall
I photograph
John Smithson’s
ashes in its columbarium.
I fear it has become a
metaphor for America’s
future commitment
to scientific inquiry
and rational secular
thinking.
I am relieved to
discover a Smithsonian
exhibit that asks
“what does it mean
to be human?”
The Origins of Humans
exhibit carries a disclaimer
to satisfy creationists.
The exhibit timidly states
that science can coexist
with religious beliefs and
that the point of the exhibit is
not to inflame inflame religious
passions but to shed light on
scientific inquiry.
I imagine these exhibits
will inflame the passion of
the fundamentalist
American Taliban and
provide yet another
reason to dismantle
the Moloch of Federalism.
The pursuit of science
remains safe at the
Smithsonian for now.
7.
Near K Street at
McPherson Park
a posse of
well dressed
lobbyists, the
self anointed
uber patriots
doing the work
of the people
stroll through
the park
boasting a
healthy population
of bedraggled
homeless.
The homeless
occupy the benches
that have been
transformed into
pup tents.
Perhaps some of
the residents of this
mean estate were
made homeless by a
foreclosed mortgage.
The K Street warriors
can be proud that their
work on behalf of the
banking industry has
forestalled financial market
reform.
Through it exacerbates
the homeless problem it has
allowed these K Street titans to
profit from the distress of others.
Earlier in the day
I photographed
a homeless man
planted in front of
the Washington
Monument.
I wonder
if my political
voyeurism is
an exploitation of
this man’s condition?
I have more in common
then I probably wish to
admit with my K Street
antagonists.
In another section
of the park the
remnants of a
distressed OWS
bivouac remain.
The legions of sunshine
patriots have melted away
as the interest of the
blogosphere has waned.
As the weather
improves Moveon.org
and democratic
party operatives
pitch tents in an
effort to resuscitate
the moribund
movement.
They hope
to coop any
remaining energy
to support their
stale deception,
a neoliberal vision
based solely on the
total capitulation
to the bankrupt
corporatocracy.
I heard someone say
a campaign lasts a
season; while a
movement for social
change takes decades.
If that metric proves
correct, and if the
powers don’t succeed
in compromising the
people’s movement
I’ll be three quarters
of a century old
before I see
justice flowing like
a river once again.
8.
I circle back to
the L’Enfant and
find myself
tramping amidst
the lost platoon
of Korean War
soldiers.
My feet drag
in the quagmire
of grass covering
the feet of this
ghostly troop.
My namesake
uncle was a
decorated
veteran of this
conflict and Im
sure I detect
his likeness
in one of the
statues.
The bleak call
of a distant train
sounds a revelry
and I imagine this
patrol springing
to life to answer
the call of their
beloved country
once again.
Yet they remain
inert.
Stuck in a
place that the
nation finds
impossible to
leave.
The eyes of the
men stare into
an incomprehensible
fate.
They see the swarms
of Red Army infantrymen
crossing the Yellow River
streaming toward
them in massive
human waves,
the tips of
sparkling bayonets
threatening to slash
the outmanned
contingent fighting
to bits.
They are the
first detachment
to bravely confront
the rising power
of China many
thousands of
miles away
from their homes.
America like
this lone company
is overwhelmed
and lost in the
confusion
that confronts
them.
Looking up
I perceive the
bewilderment
of my muddled image
reflected on the
marble walls
surrounding
the memorial.
I am a comrade-in-arms,
a fellow wanderer sojourning
with th
From my
uneasy bed
at the L’Enfant,
a train's pensive
horn breaks the
sullen lullaby of
an HVAC’s hum;
interrupting the
mechanical
reverie of its
steadfast
night watch,
allowing my ear
to discern
the stampede
of marauding
corporate Visigoths
sacking the city.
The cacophony
of sloven gluttony,
the ***** songs of
unrequited privilege
and the unencumbered
clatter of radical
entitlement echoes
off the city’s cold
crumbling stones.
The unctuous
bellows of the
victorious pillagers
profanely feasting
pierces the
hanging chill
of the nations
black night.
Their hoots
deride the train
transporting
the defeated
ghosts of
Lincoln’s last
doomed regiments
dispatched in vain
to preserve a
peoples republic
in a futile last stand.
The rebels have
finally turned the tide,
T Boone Pickett’s
Charge succeeds,
sending the ravaged
Grand Army of the
Republic sliding
back to the Capitol,
in savage servility,
gliding on squeaky
ungreased wheels
ferrying the
Union’s dead
vanquished
defenders to
unmarked graves
on Potters Field.
The Rebels
joyous yell
bounces off
the inert granite
stones of the
soulless city.
The spittle
of salivating
vandals drips
over the
spoils of war
as they initiate the
disassemblage,
the leveling and
reapportionment
of the grand prize.
The clever
oligarchs
have laid claim
to a righteous
reparation
of the peoples
assets for
pennies on the
dollar.
Their wholly
bought politicos
move to transfer
distressed assets
into their just
stewardship
through the
holy justice
of privatization
and the sound
rationale of
free market
solutions.
In the land of the
pursuit of property,
nimble wolf PACs
of swift 527, LLCs
have fully
metastasized
into personhood;
ascending to
the top of the
food chain in
America’s
voracious
political culture;
bestriding
the nation to
compel the
national will
to genuflect
to the cool facility
of corporate
dominion.
As the
inertial ******
of the plaintive
locomotive
fades into
another old
morning of
recalcitrant
Reaganism,
it lugs its
ambivalent
middle class
baggage toward
it’s fast expiring
future.
I follow
the dirge
down to
the street
as the ebbing
sound fades
into the gloom
of the
burgeoning
morning,
slowly
replacing the
purple twilight
with a breaking
day of cold gray
clouds framing
silhouettes of
cranes busily
constructing
a new city.
The personhood of
corporations need
homes in our new
republic; carving
out new
neighborhoods
suitable for the
monied citizens
of our nation.
First amongst
equals, the best
corporate governance
charters form
the foundation of
the republic’s
new constitution.
Civil rights
are secondary
to the freedom
of markets; the
Bill of Rights
are economically
replaced by the
cool manifests
of Bills of Lading.
The agents of
laissez faire
capitalism
nibble away
at the city’s
neighborhoods
one block at a time;
while steady winds
blows dust off
the National Mall.
Layers of the
peoples plaza are
plained away with
each rising gust.
History repeats
itself as the Joad’s
are routed from their
land once again.
A clever
mixed use
plan of
condos and
strip malls
is proposed
to finally help the
National Mall
unlock its true
profit potential.
As America’s
affection for
federalism fades
the water in
the reflection pool
is gracefully drained.
We the people
can no longer
see ourselves.
The profit
potential of
industry is
preferred over
the specious
metaphysical
benefits
of reflection.
The grand image,
the rich pastiche,
the quixotic aroma
of the national
melting ***
is reduced to the
sameness of the
black tar that lines
the pool and the
swirling eddies of
brown dust circling
the cracked indenture.
From his not so
distant vantage point,
Abe ponders the
empty pool wondering
if the cost of lives
paid was a worthy
endeavor of preserving
the ****** union?
Has the dear prize
won perished from
this earth?
Was the illusive
article of liberty
worth its weight in
the blood expended?
Did the people ever
fully realize the value
of government
by the people,
for the people?
Did citizens of
the republic
assume the
responsibilities to
protect and honor
the rights and privileges
of a representative
government?
Now our idea
and practice of
civil rights is measured
and promoted as far as
it can be justified by
a corporate ROI, a
shareholder dividend,
an earmark or a political
donation to a senators
unconnected PAC.
The divine celestial
ledgers balancing
the rights and
privilege of free people
drips with red ink.
Liberty, equality
fraternity are bankrupt
secular notions
condemned as
expensive
liberal seditions;
hatched by
UnHoly Jacobins,
the atheist skeptics
during the dark times
of the Age of Enlightenment.
Abe ponders
the restoration
of Washington’s
obelisk, to
repair the cracks
suffered from
last summer’s
freak earthquake.
I believe I detect
a tear in Abe’s
granite eye
saddened by the
corporate temblors
shaking the
foundations
of the city.
2.
The WWII Memorial
is America’s Parthenon
for a country's love
affair with the valor
and sacrifice of warfare.
WWII forms the
cornerstone of
understanding the
pathos of the
American Century.
During WWII
our greatest generation
rose as a nation to
defeat the menace of
global fascism and
indelibly mark the
power and virtue of
American democracy.
As Lincoln’s Army
saved federalism, FDR’s
Army kept the world safe
for democracy.
Both armies served
a nation that shared
the sacrifice and
burden of war to
preserve the grace of
a republican democracy.
Today federalism
crumbles as our
democracy withers.
The burden
of war is reserved
for a precious few
individuals while
its benefits
remain confined to
the corporate elite.
Our monuments
to war have become
commercial backdrops
for the hollow patriotism
of war profiteers.
We have mortgaged
our future to pay
for two criminal wars.
The spoils of
war flow into the
pockets of
corporate
shareholders
deeply invested
in the continuation
of pointless,
destructive
hostilities.
Our service
members who
selflessly served
their country come
home to a less free,
fear struck nation;
where economic
security and political
liberty erodes
each day while the
monied interests
continue to bless
the abundance
of freedom and riches
purchased with the
blood and sweat
of others.
America desperately
needs a new narrative.
The spirit of the
Greatest Generation
who sacrificed and met
the challenge of the 20th
Century must become
this generations spiritual
forebears.
The war on terror
neatly fits the
the corporate
pathos of
militarism,
surveillance
and the sacrifice
of civil liberties
to purchase
a daily measure
of fear and
economic
enslavement.
It must be rejected
by a people committed
to building secular
temples to pursue
peace, democracy,
economic empowerment,
civil liberties and tolerance
for all.
Yet this old city
and the democratic
temples it built
exulting a free people
anointed with the
grace of liberty
is being consumed
in a morass of
commercial
polyglot.
3.
During the
War of 1812
the British Army
burned the
Capitol Building
and the White House
to the ground.
Thank goodness
Dolly Madison saved
what she could.
The new marauders
are not subject to the
pull of nostalgia.
They value nothing
save their
self enrichment.
They will spare nothing.
Our besieged Capitol
requires Lincoln’s troops
to be stationed along the
National Mall to defend
the republic.
The greatest peril
to our nation
is being directed
by well placed
Fifth Columnists.
From the safety
of underground bunkers,
in secure undisclosed
locations within the city’s
parameters, a well financed
confederacy employing
K Street shenanigans
are busy selling off
the American Dream
one ear mark
at a time, one
huge corporate
welfare allotment
at a time.
The biggest prize
is looting the real
property of the people;
selling Utah,
auctioning off
the public schools,
water systems, post offices
and mineral rights
on the cheap
at an Uncle Sam
garage sale.
The capitol is
indeed burning
again.
Looters are
running riot.
The flailing arms
of a dying empire
fire off cruise
missiles and drone
strikes; hitting the
target of habeas
corpus as it
shakes in its
final death rattle.
I make a pilgrimage
to the MLK Jr.
Monument.
Our cultural identity
is outsourced to
foreign contractors
paid to reinterpret
the American Dream
through the eyes
of a lowest bidder.
MLK has lost
his humanity.
He has been
reduced to a
a Chinese
superhuman
Mao like anime
busting loose from
a granite mountain while
geopolitical irony
compels him to watch
Tommy Jefferson
**** Sally Hemings
from across the tidal
basin for all eternity.
MLK’s eyes fixed in
stern fascination,
forever enthralled
by the contradictions
of liberty and its
democratic excesses
of love in the willows
on golden pond.
Circling back to
Father Abraham’s
Monument, I huddle
with a group of global
citizens listening
to an NPS Ranger
spinning four score
tales with the last full
measure of her devotion.
I look up into Abe’s
stone eyes as he
surveys platoons
of gray suited
Chinese Communist
envoys engaged
in Long Marches
through the National Mall;
dutifully encircling cabinet
buildings and recruiting
Tea Party congressmen
into their open party cells.
This confederacy
is ready to torch
the White House
again.
Congressmen and
the perfect patriots
from K Street slavishly
pull their paymasters
in gilded rickshaws to
golf outings at the Pentagon
and park at the preferred
spots reserved for
the luxury box holders
at Redskin Games.
They vow not to rest
until the house of the people
is fully mortgaged to the
People’s Republic of China’s
Sovereign Wealth Fund.
4.
A great
Son of Liberty like
Alan Greenspan
roundly rings
the bells of
free markets
as he inches
T Bill rates
forward a few
basis points
at a time; while
his dead mentor
Ayn Rand
lifts Paul Ryan
to her
Fountainhead teet.
He takes a long
draw as she
coos songs
from her primer
of Atlas Shrugged
Mother Goose tales
into his silky ears.
The construction
cranes swing
to the music
building new private
sector space with
the largess of
US taxpayers
money; or
more rightly
future generations
taxpayer debt.
Libertarians,
Tea Baggers, Blue Dogs
and GOP waterboys
eagerly light a
match to the
the crucifixes
bearing federal
social safety
net programs
to the delight
of NASDAQ
listed capitalists
on the come,
licking their chops
to land contracts
to administer
these programs
at a negotiated
cost plus
profit margin.
Citizens
dependent
on programs
are leery
shareholders
are ecstatic.
To be sure
our free
market rebels
don disguises
of red, white
and blue robes
but their objectives
fail to distinguish
their motives and
methods with
some of the finest
Klansman this
country has
ever produced.
5.
DC is a city
of joggers
and choppers.
Corporate
helicopters
wizz by the
Washington
Monument,
popping erections
for the erectors
inspecting the progress
of the cranes
commanding the
city skyline.
USMC drill team
out for a morning
run circles the Mall.
The commanding
cadence of the
DI keeps us
mindful of the
deepening
militarization of
our society.
A crowd
rushes
to position
themselves,
genuflecting
to photograph
a platoon on
the move.
I try to consider
the defining
characteristics of
Washington DC.
DC is all surface.
It is full of walls
and mirrors.
Its primary hue
is obfuscation.
Open
communication
scripted from well
considered talking points
informs all dialog.
The city is thoroughly
enraptured in narcissism.
Thankfully, one can
always capture the
reflection of oneself in
the ubiquitous presence of
mirrors.
Vanity imprisons
the city inhabitants.
Young joggers circle the
Mall and gerrymander
down every pathway
of the city.
They are the clerks,
interns and staffers of
the judicial, executive
and legislative branches.
They are the children
of privilege.
They will never
alter their path.
You must cede the walk
to their entitlement
of a swift comportment
or risk injury of a
violent collision.
These young ones
portray a countenance
of benevolent rulers.
They seem to be learning
their trade craft well from
the senators and judges
whom they serve.
They appear confident
they know what's best
for the country and after
their one term of tireless
service to the republic
they look forward to
positions in the private
sector where they will
assist corporations
to extend their reach
into the pant pockets
worn by the body politic.
6.
Our nations mythic story
lies hidden deep in the
closed rooms of the
museums lining the
Mall.
I pause to consider
what a great nation
and its great people
once aspired to.
I spy the a
suspended
Space Shuttle
hanging in dry dock
at the air and
space museum.
Today America’s
astronauts hitch
rides on Russian
rockets.
America rents a
timeshare from
the European
space agency to
lift communication
satellites into orbit.
Across the Mall
I photograph
John Smithson’s
ashes in its columbarium.
I fear it has become a
metaphor for America’s
future commitment
to scientific inquiry
and rational secular
thinking.
I am relieved to
discover a Smithsonian
exhibit that asks
“what does it mean
to be human?”
The Origins of Humans
exhibit carries a disclaimer
to satisfy creationists.
The exhibit timidly states
that science can coexist
with religious beliefs and
that the point of the exhibit is
not to inflame inflame religious
passions but to shed light on
scientific inquiry.
I imagine these exhibits
will inflame the passion of
the fundamentalist
American Taliban and
provide yet another
reason to dismantle
the Moloch of Federalism.
The pursuit of science
remains safe at the
Smithsonian for now.
7.
Near K Street at
McPherson Park
a posse of
well dressed
lobbyists, the
self anointed
uber patriots
doing the work
of the people
stroll through
the park
boasting a
healthy population
of bedraggled
homeless.
The homeless
occupy the benches
that have been
transformed into
pup tents.
Perhaps some of
the residents of this
mean estate were
made homeless by a
foreclosed mortgage.
The K Street warriors
can be proud that their
work on behalf of the
banking industry has
forestalled financial market
reform.
Through it exacerbates
the homeless problem it has
allowed these K Street titans to
profit from the distress of others.
Earlier in the day
I photographed
a homeless man
planted in front of
the Washington
Monument.
I wonder
if my political
voyeurism is
an exploitation of
this man’s condition?
I have more in common
then I probably wish to
admit with my K Street
antagonists.
In another section
of the park the
remnants of a
distressed OWS
bivouac remain.
The legions of sunshine
patriots have melted away
as the interest of the
blogosphere has waned.
As the weather
improves Moveon.org
and democratic
party operatives
pitch tents in an
effort to resuscitate
the moribund
movement.
They hope
to coop any
remaining energy
to support their
stale deception,
a neoliberal vision
based solely on the
total capitulation
to the bankrupt
corporatocracy.
I heard someone say
a campaign lasts a
season; while a
movement for social
change takes decades.
If that metric proves
correct, and if the
powers don’t succeed
in compromising the
people’s movement
I’ll be three quarters
of a century old
before I see
justice flowing like
a river once again.
8.
I circle back to
the L’Enfant and
find myself
tramping amidst
the lost platoon
of Korean War
soldiers.
My feet drag
in the quagmire
of grass covering
the feet of this
ghostly troop.
My namesake
uncle was a
decorated
veteran of this
conflict and Im
sure I detect
his likeness
in one of the
statues.
The bleak call
of a distant train
sounds a revelry
and I imagine this
patrol springing
to life to answer
the call of their
beloved country
once again.
Yet they remain
inert.
Stuck in a
place that the
nation finds
impossible to
leave.
The eyes of the
men stare into
an incomprehensible
fate.
They see the swarms
of Red Army infantrymen
crossing the Yellow River
streaming toward
them in massive
human waves,
the tips of
sparkling bayonets
threatening to slash
the outmanned
contingent fighting
to bits.
They are the
first detachment
to bravely confront
the rising power
of China many
thousands of
miles away
from their homes.
America like
this lone company
is overwhelmed
and lost in the
confusion
that confronts
them.
Looking up
I perceive the
bewilderment
of my muddled image
reflected on the
marble walls
surrounding
the memorial.
I am a comrade-in-arms,
a fellow wanderer sojourning
with th
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
When Pigs Fly
Michael R Burch
Feb 2020
These are modern English translations of Native American poems, proverbs, prayers, blessings and sayings, translated by Michael R. Burch.
When Pigs Fly
by Michael R. Burch
On the Trail of Tears,
my Cherokee brothers,
why hang your heads?
Why shame your mothers?
Laugh wildly instead!
We will soon be dead.
When we lie in our graves,
let the white-eyes take
the woodlands we loved
for the *** and the rake.
It is better to die
than to live out a lie
in so narrow a sty.
In October 1838 the Cherokees began to walk the "Trail of Tears." Most of them made the thousand mile journey west to Oklahoma on foot. An estimated 4,000 people, or a quarter of the tribe, died en route. The soldiers "escorting" the Cherokees at bayonet point refused permission for the dead to be buried, threatening to shoot anyone who disobeyed. So the living were forced to carry the corpses of the dead until camp was made for the night. Years after the Cherokees had been rounded up and driven down the Trail of Tears, John G. Burnett reflected on what he and his fellow soldiers had done, saying, "Schoolchildren of today do not know that we are living on lands that were taken from a helpless race at the bayonet point, to satisfy the white man's greed... ****** is ****** and somebody must answer, somebody must explain the streams of blood that flowed in the Indian country... Somebody must explain the four thousand silent graves that mark the trail of the Cherokees to their exile." Keywords/Tags: Cherokee, Native American, Trail of Tears, Ethnic Cleansing, Genocide, ******, Evil, Death, March, Death March, Infanticide, Matricide, Racism, Racist, Discrimination, Violence, Fascism, White Supremacists, Horror, Terror, Terrorism, Greed, Gluttony, Avarice, Lust, ****, mrbpig, mrbpigs
Cherokee Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As I walk life's trails
imperiled by the raging wind and rain,
grant, O Great Spirit,
that yet I may always
walk like a man.
This prayer makes me think of Native Americans walking the Trail of Tears with far more courage and dignity than their “civilized” abusers.
Native American Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Help us learn the lessons you have left us
in every leaf and rock.
Dream Song of the Thunders
Chippewa saying
translation by Michael R. Burch
Sometimes I bemoan my “plight”
when all the while
the wind bears me across the immense sky.
Native American Travelers' Blessing
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us walk together here
among earth's creatures great and small,
remembering, our footsteps light,
that one wise God created all.
Sioux Vision Quest
by Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux, circa 1840-1877
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A man must pursue his Vision
as the eagle explores
the sky's deepest blues.
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing I
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I will extract the thorns from your feet.
For yet a little while, we will walk life's sunlit paths together.
I will love you like my own brother, my own blood.
When you are disconsolate, I will wipe the tears from your eyes.
And when you are too sad to live, I will put your aching heart to rest.
Published by Better Than Starbucks and Cherokee Native Americans
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing II
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Happily may you walk
in the paths of the Rainbow.
Oh,
and may it always be beautiful before you,
beautiful behind you,
beautiful below you,
beautiful above you,
and beautiful all around you
where in Perfection beauty is finished.
Published by Better Than Starbucks
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing III
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May Heaven’s warming winds blow gently there,
where you reside,
and may the Great Spirit bless all those you love,
this side of the farthest tide.
And wherever you go,
whether the journey is fast or slow,
may your moccasins leave many cunning footprints in the snow.
And when you look over your shoulder, may you always find the Rainbow.
Published by Better Than Starbucks
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of the winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
―Blackfoot saying, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warrior's Confession
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh my love, how fair you are—
far brighter than the fairest star!
Cherokee Proverb
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Before you judge
a man for his sins
be sure to trudge
many moons in his moccasins.
Cherokee Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As I walk life's trails
imperiled by the raging wind and rain,
grant, O Great Spirit,
that yet I may always
walk like a man.
When I think of this prayer, I think of Native Americans walking the Trail of Tears.
The Receiving of the Flower
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us sing overflowing with joy
as we observe the Receiving of the Flower.
The lovely maidens beam;
their hearts leap in their *******.
Why?
Because they will soon yield their virginity to the men they love!
The Deflowering
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Remove your clothes;
let down your hair;
become as naked as the day you were born—
virgins!
Prelude to *******
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lay out your most beautiful clothes,
maidens!
The day of happiness has arrived!
Grab your combs, detangle your hair,
adorn your earlobes with gaudy pendants.
Dress in white as becomes maidens ...
Then go, give your lovers the happiness of your laughter!
And all the village will rejoice with you,
for the day of happiness has arrived!
The Flower-Strewn Pool
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You have arrived at last in the woods
where no one can see what you do
at the flower-strewn pool ...
Remove your clothes,
unbraid your hair,
become as you were
when you first arrived here
naked and shameless,
virgins, maidens!
Native American Proverbs
The soul would see no Rainbows if not for the eyes’ tears.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A woman’s highest calling is to help her man unite with the Source.
A man’s highest calling is to help his woman walk the earth unharmed.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced.
Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.
—White Elk, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of a winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
—Blackfoot saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
Speak less thunder, wield more lightning. — Apache proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The more we wonder, the more we understand. — Arapaho proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Adults talk, children whine. — Blackfoot proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Don’t be afraid to cry: it will lessen your sorrow. — Hopi proverb
One foot in the boat, one foot in the canoe, and you end up in the river. — Tuscarora proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Our enemy's weakness increases our strength. — Cherokee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
We will be remembered tomorrow by the tracks we leave today. — Dakota proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
No sound's as eloquent as a rattlesnake's tail. — Navajo saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
The heart is our first teacher. — Cheyenne proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Dreams beget success. — Maricopa proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Knowledge interprets the past, wisdom foresees the future. — Lumbee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The troublemaker's way is thorny. — Umpqua proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Earthbound
an original poem by Michael R. Burch
Tashunka Witko, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.
Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.
Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.
Years after the Cherokees had been rounded up and driven down the Trail of Tears, John G. Burnett reflected on what he and his fellow soldiers had done, saying, "Schoolchildren of today do not know that we are living on lands that were taken from a helpless race at the bayonet point, to satisfy the white man's greed ... ****** is ****** and somebody must answer, somebody must explain the streams of blood that flowed in the Indian country ... Somebody must explain the four thousand silent graves that mark the trail of the Cherokees to their exile."
In the same year, 1830, that Stonewall Jackson consigned Native Americans to the ash-heap of history, Georgia Governor George Gilmer said, "Treaties are expedients by which ignorant, intractable, and savage people are induced ... to yield up what civilized people have the right to possess." By "civilized" he apparently meant people willing to brutally dispossess and **** women and children in order to derive economic benefits for themselves.
These nights bring dreams of Cherokee shamans
whose names are bright verbs and impacted dark nouns,
whose memories are indictments of my pallid flesh . . .
and I hear, as from a great distance,
the cries tortured from their guileless lips, proclaiming
the nature of my mutation.
―Michael R. Burch, from "Mongrel Dreams" (my family is part Cherokee, English and Scottish)
After Jackson was re-elected with an overwhelming majority in 1832, he strenuously pursued his policy of removing Native Americans, even refusing to accept a Supreme Court ruling which invalidated Georgia's planned annexation of Cherokee land. But in the double-dealing logic of the white supremacists, they had to make the illegal resettlement of the Indians appear to be "legal," so a small group of Cherokees were persuaded to sign the "Treaty of New Echota," which swapped Cherokee land for land in the Oklahoma territory. The Cherokee ringleaders of this infamous plot were later assassinated as traitors. (****** was similarly obsessed with the "legalities" of the **** Holocaust; isn't it strange how mass murderers of women and children can seek to justify their crimes?)
Native Americans understood the "circle of life" better than their white oppressors ...
When we sit in the Circle of the People,
we must be responsible because all Creation is related
and the suffering of one is the suffering of all
and the joy of one is the joy of all
and whatever we do affects everything in the universe.
—"Lakota Instructions for Living" by White Buffalo Calf Woman, translated by Michael R. Burch
Veiled
by Michael R. Burch
She has belief
without comprehension
and in her crutchwork shack
she is
much like us . . .
tamping the bread
into edible forms,
regarding her children
at play
with something akin to relief . . .
ignoring the towers ablaze
in the distance
because they are not revelations
but things of glass,
easily shattered . . .
and if you were to ask her,
she might say:
sometimes God visits his wrath
upon an impious nation
for its leaders’ sins,
and we might agree:
seeing her mutilations.
Published by Poetry Super Highway and Modern War Poems.
Ali’s Song
by Michael R. Burch
They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so.
They say it has a wild, unearthly glow.
A man can be more beautiful, more wild.
I flung their medal to the river, child.
I flung their medal to the river, child.
They hung their coin around my neck; they made
my name a bridle, “called a ***** a *****.”
They say their gold is pure. I say defiled.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.
Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong
that never called me ******, did me wrong.
A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild.
I flung their notice to the river, child.
I flung their notice to the river, child.
They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun,
and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.”
At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.
My face reflected up, dark bronze like gold,
a coin God stamped in His own image―BOLD.
My blood boiled like that river―strange and wild.
I died to hate in that dark river, child,
Come, be reborn in this bright river, child.
Originally published by Black Medina
Note: Cassius Clay, who converted to Islam and changed his “slave name” to Muhammad Ali, said that he threw his Olympic boxing gold medal into the Ohio River. Confirming his account, the medal was recovered by Robert Bradbury and his wife Pattie in 2014 during the Annual Ohio River Sweep, and the Ali family paid them $200,000 to regain possession of the medal. When drafted during the Vietnamese War, Ali refused to serve, reputedly saying: “I ain't got no quarrel with those Viet Cong; no Vietnamese ever called me a ******.” The notice mentioned in my poem is Ali's draft notice, which metaphorically gets tossed into the river along with his slave name. I was told through the grapevine that this poem appeared in Farsi in an Iranian publication called Bashgah. ―Michael R. Burch
evol-u-shun
by Michael R. Burch
does GOD adore the Tyger
while it’s ripping ur lamb apart?
does GOD applaud the Plague
while it’s eating u à la carte?
does GOD admire ur intelligence
while u pray that IT has a heart?
does GOD endorse the Bible
you blue-lighted at k-mart?
Enheduanna, the daughter of the famous King Sargon the Great of Akkad, is the first ancient writer whose name remains known today. She appears to be the first named poet in human history and the first known author of prayers and hymns. Enheduanna, who lived circa 2285-2250 BCE, is also one of the first women we know by name.
Lament to the Spirit of War
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
You hack down everything you see, War God!
Rising on fearsome wings
you rush to destroy the land,
descending like a raging storm,
howling like a hurricane,
screaming like a tempest,
thundering, raging, ranting, drumming,
whiplashing whirlwinds!
Men falter at your approaching footsteps.
Tortured dirges scream
on your lyre of despair.
Like a fiery Salamander you poison the land:
growling over the earth like thunder,
vegetation collapsing before you,
blood gushing down a mountainside.
Spirit of hatred, greed and vengeance!
******* of heaven and earth!
Your ferocious fire consumes our land.
Whipping your stallion
with furious commands,
you decide our fate.
You triumph over all human rites and prayers.
Who can explain your tirade,
why you go on so?
Temple Hymn 15
to the Gishbanda Temple of Ningishzida
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Most ancient and terrible shrine,
set deep in the mountain,
dark like a mother's womb...
Dark shrine,
like a mother's wounded breast,
blood-red and terrifying...
Though approaching through a safe-seeming field,
our hair stands on end as we near you!
Gishbanda,
like a neck-stock,
like a fine-eyed fish net,
like a foot-shackled prisoner's manacles...
your ramparts are massive,
like a trap!
But once we’re inside,
as the sun rises,
you yield widespread abundance!
Your prince
is the pure-handed priest of Inanna, heaven's Holy One,
Lord Ningishzida!
Oh, see how his thick, lustrous hair
cascades down his back!
Oh Gishbanda,
he has built this beautiful temple to house your radiance!
He has placed his throne upon your dais!
The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines and Excerpts
by Enheduanna, the daughter of Sargon I of Akkad and the high priestess of the Goddess Inanna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lady of all divine powers!
Lady of the resplendent light!
Righteous Lady adorned in heavenly radiance!
Beloved Lady of An and Uraš!
Hierodule of An, sun-adorned and bejeweled!
Heaven’s Mistress with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her own high priestess!
Powerful Mistress, seizer of the seven divine powers!
My Heavenly Lady, guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the seven divine powers!
You hold the divine powers in your hand!
You have gathered together the seven divine powers!
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!
You have flooded the valleys with venom, like a viper;
all vegetation vanishes when you thunder like Iškur!
You have caused the mountains to flood the valleys!
When you roar like that, nothing on earth can withstand you!
Like a flood descending on floodplains, O Powerful One, you will teach foreigners to fear Inanna!
You have given wings to the storm, O Beloved of Enlil!
The storms do your bidding, blasting the unbelievers!
Foreign cities cower at the chaos You cause!
Entire countries cower in dread of Your deadly South Wind!
Men cower before you in their anguished implications,
raising their pitiful outcries,
weeping and wailing, beseeching Your benevolence with many wild lamentations!
But in the van of battle, everything falls before You, O Mighty Queen!
My Queen,
You are all-conquering, all-devouring!
You continue Your attacks like relentless storms!
You howl louder than the howling storms!
You thunder louder than Iškur!
You moan louder than the mournful winds!
Your feet never tire from trampling Your enemies!
You produce much wailing on the lyres of lamentations!
My Queen,
all the Anunna, the mightiest Gods,
fled before Your approach like fluttering bats!
They could not stand in Your awesome Presence
nor behold Your awesome Visage!
Who can soothe Your infuriated heart?
Your baleful heart is beyond being soothed!
Uncontrollable Wild Cow, elder daughter of Sin,
O Majestic Queen, greater than An,
who has ever paid You enough homage?
O Life-Giving Goddess, possessor of all powers,
Inanna the Exalted!
Merciful, Live-Giving Mother!
Inanna, the Radiant of Heart!
I have exalted You in accordance with Your power!
I have bowed before You in my holy garb,
I the En, I Enheduanna!
Carrying my masab-basket, I once entered and uttered my joyous chants ...
But now I no longer dwell in Your sanctuary.
The sun rose and scorched me.
Night fell and the South Wind overwhelmed me.
My laughter was stilled and my honey-sweet voice grew strident.
My joy became dust.
O Sin, King of Heaven, how bitter my fate!
To An, I declared: An will deliver me!
I declared it to An: He will deliver me!
But now the kingship of heaven has been seized by Inanna,
at Whose feet the floodplains lie.
Inanna the Exalted,
who has made me tremble together with all Ur!
Stay Her anger, or let Her heart be soothed by my supplications!
I, Enheduanna will offer my supplications to Inanna,
my tears flowing like sweet intoxicants!
Yes, I will proffer my tears and my prayers to the Holy Inanna,
I will greet Her in peace ...
O My Queen, I have exalted You,
Who alone are worthy to be exalted!
O My Queen, Beloved of An,
I have laid out Your daises,
set fire to the coals,
conducted the rites,
prepared Your nuptial chamber.
Now may Your heart embrace me!
These are my innovations,
O Mighty Queen, that I made for You!
What I composed for You by the dark of night,
The cantor will chant by day.
Now Inanna’s heart has been restored,
and the day became favorable to Her.
Clothed in beauty, radiant with joy,
she carried herself like the elegant moonlight.
Now to the Noble Hierodule,
to the Wrecker of foreign lands
presented by An with the seven divine powers,
and to my Queen garbed in the radiance of heaven ...
O Inanna, praise!
The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines, an Excerpt
Nin-me-šara by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Lady of all divine powers,
Lady of the all-resplendent light,
Righteous Lady clothed in heavenly radiance,
Beloved Lady of An and Uraš,
Mistress of heaven with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her high priestess,
Powerful Mistress who has seized all seven divine powers,
My lady, you are the guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the divine powers,
You hold the divine powers in your hand,
You have gathered up the divine powers,
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!
Like a dragon you have spewed venom on foreign lands that know you not!
When you roar like Iškur at the earth, nothing can withstand you!
Like a flood descending on alien lands, O Powerful One of heaven and earth, you will teach them to fear Inanna!
Temple Hymn 7: an Excerpt
to the Kesh Temple of Ninhursag
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, high-situated Kesh,
form-shifting summit,
inspiring fear like a venomous viper!
O, Lady of the Mountains,
Ninhursag’s house was constructed on a terrifying site!
O, Kesh, like holy Aratta: your womb dark and deep,
your walls high-towering and imposing!
O, great lion of the wildlands stalking the high plains!...
Temple Hymn 17: an Excerpt
to the Badtibira Temple of Dumuzi
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, house of jeweled lapis illuminating the radiant bed
in the peace-inducing palace of our Lady of the Steppe!
Temple Hymn 22: an Excerpt
to the Sirara Temple of Nanshe
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, house, you wild cow!
Made to conjure signs of the Divine!
You arise, beautiful to behold,
bedecked for your Mistress!
Temple Hymn 26: an Excerpt
to the Zabalam Temple of Inanna
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O house illuminated by beams of bright light,
dressed in shimmering stone jewels,
awakening the world to awe!
Temple Hymn 42: an Excerpt
to the Eresh Temple of Nisaba
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, house of brilliant stars
bright with lapis stones,
you illuminate all lands!
...
The person who put this tablet together
is Enheduanna.
My king: something never created before,
did she not give birth to it?
Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague"
by Michael R. Burch
THE PLAGUE has come again
To darken lives of men
and women, girls and boys;
Death proves their bodies toys
Too frail to even cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Tycoons, what use is wealth?
You cannot buy good health!
Physicians cannot heal
Themselves, to Death must kneel.
Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty’s brightest flower?
Devoured in an hour.
Kings, Queens and Presidents
Are fearful residents
Of manors boarded high.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
We have no means to save
Our children from the grave.
Though cure-alls line our shelves,
We cannot save ourselves.
"Come, come!" the sad bells cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
NOTE: This poem is meant to capture the understandable fear and dismay the Plague caused in the Middle Ages, and which the coronavirus has caused in the 21st century. We are better equipped to deal with this modern plague, thanks to advances in science, medicine and sanitation. We do not have to succumb to fear, but it would be wise to have a healthy respect for the nasty bug and heed the advice of medical experts.--MRB
Regret
by Michael R. Burch
Regret,
a bitter
ache to bear . . .
once starlight
languished
in your hair . . .
a shining there
as brief
as rare.
Regret . . .
a pain
I chose to bear . . .
unleash
the torrent
of your hair . . .
and show me
once again―
how rare.
Published by The HyperTexts and The Chained Muse
The Stake
by Michael R. Burch
Love, the heart bets,
if not without regrets,
will still prove, in the end,
worth the light we expend
mining the dark
for an exquisite heart.
Originally published by The Lyric
If
by Michael R. Burch
If I regret
fire in the sunset
exploding on the horizon,
then let me regret loving you.
If I forget
even for a moment
that you are the only one,
then let me forget that the sky is blue.
If I should yearn
in a season of discontentment
for the vagabond light of a companionless moon,
let dawn remind me that you are my sun.
If I should burn―one moment less brightly,
one instant less true―
then with wild scorching kisses,
inflame me, inflame me, inflame me anew.
Originally published by The HyperTexts
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch
A black ringlet
curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember:
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh ...
our soft cries, like regret,
... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...
now that I have forgotten her face.
Villanelle: Because Her Heart Is Tender
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
She scrawled soft words in soap: "Never Forget,"
Dove-white on her car's window, and the wren,
because her heart is tender, might regret
it called the sun to wake her. As I slept,
she heard lost names recounted, one by one.
She wrote in sidewalk chalk: "Never Forget,"
and kept her heart's own counsel. No rain swept
away those words, no tear leaves them undone.
Because her heart is tender with regret,
bruised by razed towers' glass and steel and stone
that shatter on and on and on and on,
she stitches in wet linen: "NEVER FORGET,"
and listens to her heart's emphatic song.
The wren might tilt its head and sing along
because its heart once understood regret
when fledglings fell beyond, beyond, beyond ...
its reach, and still the boot-heeled world strode on.
She writes in adamant: "NEVER FORGET"
because her heart is tender with regret.
To the boy Elis
by Georg Trakl
translation by Michael R. Burch
Elis, when the blackbird cries from the black forest,
it announces your downfall.
Your lips sip the rock-spring's blue coolness.
Your brow sweats blood
recalling ancient myths
and dark interpretations of birds' flight.
Yet you enter the night with soft footfalls;
the ripe purple grapes hang suspended
as you wave your arms more beautifully in the blueness.
A thornbush crackles;
where now are your moonlike eyes?
How long, oh Elis, have you been dead?
A monk dips waxed fingers
into your body's hyacinth;
Our silence is a black abyss
from which sometimes a docile animal emerges
slowly lowering its heavy lids.
A black dew drips from your temples:
the lost gold of vanished stars.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: I believe that in the second stanza the blood on Elis's forehead may be a reference to the apprehensive ****** sweat of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. If my interpretation is correct, Elis hears the blackbird's cries, anticipates the danger represented by a harbinger of death, but elects to continue rather than turn back. From what I have been able to gather, the color blue had a special significance for Georg Trakl: it symbolized longing and perhaps a longing for death. The colors blue, purple and black may represent a progression toward death in the poem.
Turkish Poetry Translations
Attilâ İlhan (1925-2005) was a Turkish poet, translator, novelist, screenwriter, editor, journalist, essayist, reviewer, socialist and intellectual.
Ben Sana Mecburum: “You are indispensable”
by Attila Ilhan
translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
You are indispensable; how can you not know
that you’re like nails riveting my brain?
I see your eyes as ever-expanding dimensions.
You are indispensable; how can you not know
that I burn within, at the thought of you?
Trees prepare themselves for autumn;
can this city be our lost Istanbul?
Now clouds disintegrate in the darkness
as the street lights flicker
and the streets reek with rain.
You are indispensable, and yet you are absent ...
Love sometimes seems akin to terror:
a man tires suddenly at nightfall,
of living enslaved to the razor at his neck.
Sometimes he wrings his hands,
expunging other lives from his existence.
Sometimes whichever door he knocks
echoes back only heartache.
A screechy phonograph is playing in Fatih ...
a song about some Friday long ago.
I stop to listen from a vacant corner,
longing to bring you an untouched sky,
but time disintegrates in my hands.
Whatever I do, wherever I go,
you are indispensable, and yet you are absent ...
Are you the blue child of June?
Ah, no one knows you―no one knows!
Your deserted eyes are like distant freighters ...
Perhaps you are boarding in Yesilköy?
Are you drenched there, shivering with the rain
that leaves you blind, beset, broken,
with wind-disheveled hair?
Whenever I think of life
seated at the wolves’ table,
shameless, yet without soiling our hands ...
Yes, whenever I think of life,
I begin with your name, defying the silence,
and your secret tides surge within me
making this voyage inevitable.
You are indispensable; how can you not know?
Fragments
by Attila Ilhan
loose English translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
The night is a cloudy-feathered owl,
its quills like fine-spun glass.
It gazes out the window,
perched on my right shoulder,
its wings outspread and huge.
If the encroaching darkness seems devastating at first glance,
the sovereign of everything,
its reach infinite ...
Still somewhere within a kernel of light glows secretly
creating an enlightened forest of dialectics.
In September’s waning days one thinks wanly of the arrival of fall
like a ship appearing on the horizon with untrimmed, tattered sails;
for some unfathomable reason fall is the time to consider one’s own demise―
the body smothered by yellowed leaves like a corpse rotting in a ghoulish photograph ...
Bitter words
crack like whips
snapping across prison yards ...
Then there are words like pomegranate trees in bloom,
words like the sun igniting the sea beyond mountainous horizons,
flashing like mysterious knives ...
Such words are the burning roses of an infinite imagination;
they are born and they die with the flutterings of butterflies;
we carry those words in our hearts like pregnant shotguns until the day we expire,
martyred for the words we were prepared to die for ...
What I wrote and what you understood? Curious and curiouser!
Mehmet Akif Ersoy: Modern English Translations of Turkish Poems
Mehmet Âkif Ersoy (1873-1936) was a Turkish poet, author, writer, academic, member of parliament, and the composer of the Turkish National Anthem.
Snapshot
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Earth’s least trace of life cannot be erased;
even when you lie underground, it encompasses you.
So, those of you who anticipate the shadows,
how long will the darkness remember you?
Zulmü Alkislayamam
"I Can’t Applaud Tyranny"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I can't condone cruelty; I will never applaud the oppressor;
Yet I can't renounce the past for the sake of deluded newcomers.
When someone curses my ancestors, I want to strangle them,
Even if you don’t.
But while I harbor my elders,
I refuse to praise their injustices.
Above all, I will never glorify evil, by calling injustice “justice.”
From the day of my birth, I've loved freedom;
The golden tulip never deceived me.
If I am nonviolent, does that make me a docile sheep?
The blade may slice, but my neck resists!
When I see someone else's wound, I suffer a great hardship;
To end it, I'll be whipped, I'll be beaten.
I can't say, “Never mind, just forget it!” I'll mind,
I'll crush, I'll be crushed, I'll uphold justice.
I'm the foe of the oppressor, the friend of the oppressed.
What the hell do you mean, with your backwardness?
Çanakkale Sehitlerine
"For the Çanakkale Martyrs"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Was there ever anything like the Bosphorus war?―
The earth’s mightiest armies pressing Marmara,
Forcing entry between her mountain passes
To a triangle of land besieged by countless vessels.
Oh, what dishonorable assemblages!
Who are these Europeans, come as rapists?
Who, these braying hyenas, released from their reeking cages?
Why do the Old World, the New World, and all the nations of men
now storm her beaches? Is it Armageddon? Truly, the whole world rages!
Seven nations marching in unison!
Australia goose-stepping with Canada!
Different faces, languages, skin tones!
Everything so different, but the mindless bludgeons!
Some warriors Hindu, some African, some nameless, unknown!
This disgraceful invasion, baser than the Black Death!
Ah, the 20th century, so noble in its own estimation,
But all its favored ones nothing but a parade of worthless wretches!
For months now Turkish soldiers have been vomited up
Like stomachs’ retched contents regarded with shame.
If the masks had not been torn away, the faces would still be admired,
But the ***** called civilization is far from blameless.
Now the ****** demand the destruction of the doomed
And thus bring destruction down on their own heads.
Lightning severs horizons!
Earthquakes regurgitate the bodies of the dead!
Bombs’ thunderbolts explode brains,
rupture the ******* of brave soldiers.
Underground tunnels writhe like hell
Full of the bodies of burn victims.
The sky rains down death, the earth swallows the living.
A terrible blizzard heaves men violently into the air.
Heads, eyes, torsos, legs, arms, chins, fingers, hands, feet ...
Body parts rain down everywhere.
Coward hands encased in armor callously scatter
Floods of thunderbolts, torrents of fire.
Men’s chests gape open,
Beneath the high, circling vulture-like packs of the air.
Cannonballs fly as frequently as bullets
Yet the heroic army laughs at the hail.
Who needs steel fortresses? Who fears the enemy?
How can the shield of faith not prevail?
What power can make religious men bow down to their oppressors
When their stronghold is established by God?
The mountains and the rocks are the bodies of martyrs! ...
For the sake of a crescent, oh God, many suns set, undone!
Dear soldier, who fell for the sake of this land,
How great you are, your blood saves the Muslims!
Only the lions of Bedr rival your glory!
Who then can dig the grave wide enough to hold you. and your story?
If we try to consign you to history, you will not fit!
No book can contain the eras you shook!
Only eternities can encompass you! ...
Oh martyr, son of the martyr, do not ask me about the grave:
The prophet awaits you now, his arms flung wide open, to save!
Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”)
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
for the refugees
The time to weigh anchor has come;
a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown,
cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts.
No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure;
the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief,
scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring ...
Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing!
There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life!
The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile,
for they cannot know where the vanished are bound.
Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves,
since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey.
Full Moon
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
You are so lovely
the full moon just might
delight
in your rising,
as curious
and bright,
to vanquish night.
But what can a mortal man do,
dear,
but hope?
I’ll ponder your mysteries
and (hmmmm) try to
cope.
We both know
you have every right to say no.
The Music of the Snow
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years!
This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years!
Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery,
It rises from a choir of a hundred voices!
As the *****’s harmonies resound profoundly,
I share the sufferings of Slavic grief.
My mind drifts far from this city, this era,
To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey.
Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear,
With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul!
Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me;
I keep them at bay all night with my dreams!
Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer.
Thinking of you
by Nazim Hikmet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thinking of you is beautiful, hopeful―
like listening to the most beautiful songs
sung by the earth's most beautiful voices.
But hope is insufficient for me now;
I don't want to listen to songs.
I want to sing love into birth.
I love you
by Nazim Hikmet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love you―
like dipping bread into salt and eating;
like waking at night with a raging fever
and thirstily lapping up water, my mouth to the silver tap;
like unwrapping the unwieldy box the postman delivers,
unable to guess what's inside,
feeling fluttery, happy, doubtful.
I love you―
like flying over the sea the first time
as something stirs within me
while the sky softly darkens over Istanbul.
I love you―
as men thank God gratefully for life.
Sparrow
by Nazim Hikmet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Little sparrow,
perched on the clothesline,
do you regard me with pity?
Even so, I will watch you
soar away through the white spring leaves.
The Divan of the Lover
the oldest extant Turkish poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All the universe as one great sign is shown:
God revealed in his creative acts unknown.
Who sees or understands them, jinn or men?
Such works lie far beyond mere mortals’ ken.
Nor can man’s mind or reason reach that strand,
Nor mortal tongue name Him who rules that land.
Since He chose nothingness with life to vest,
who dares to trouble God with worms’ behests?
For eighteen thousand worlds, lain end to end,
Do not with Him one atom's worth transcend!
Fragment
by Prince Jem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Behold! The torrent, dashing against the rocks, flails wildly.
The entire vast realm of Space and Being oppresses my soul idly.
Through bitterness of grief and woe the sky has rent its morning robe.
Look! See how in its eastern palace, the sun is a ****** globe!
The clouds of heaven rain bright tears on the distant mountain peaks.
Oh, hear how the deeply wounded thunder slowly, mournfully speaks!
An Ecstasy of Fumbling
by Michael R. Burch
The poets believe
everything resolves to metaphor—
a distillation,
a vapor
beyond filtration,
though perhaps not quite as volatile as before.
The poets conceive
of death in the trenches
as the price of art,
not war,
fumbling with their masque-like
dissertations
to describe the Hollywood-like gore
as something beyond belief,
abstracting concrete bunkers to Achaemenid bas-relief.
Excerpts from “Travels with Einstein”
by Michael R. Burch
for Trump
I went to Berlin to learn wisdom
from Adolph. The wild spittle flew
as he screamed at me, with great conviction:
“Please despise me! I look like a Jew!”
So I flew off to ’Nam to learn wisdom
from tall Yankees who cursed “yellow” foes.
“If we lose this small square,” they informed me,
earth’s nations will fall, dominoes!”
I then sat at Christ’s feet to learn wisdom,
but his Book, from its genesis to close,
said: “Men can enslave their own brothers!”
(I soon noticed he lacked any clothes.)
So I traveled to bright Tel Aviv
where great scholars with lofty IQs
informed me that (since I’m an Arab)
I’m unfit to lick dirt from their shoes.
At last, done with learning, I stumbled
to a well where the waters seemed sweet:
the mirage of American “justice.”
There I wept a real sea, in defeat.
Originally published by Café Dissensus
The Leveler
by Michael R. Burch
The nature of Nature
is bitter survival
from Winter’s bleak fury
till Spring’s brief revival.
The weak implore Fate;
bold men ravish, dishevel her . . .
till both are cut down
by mere ticks of the Leveler.
I believe I wrote this poem around age 20, in 1978 or thereabouts. It has since been published in The Lyric, Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly and The Aurorean.
The Hippopotami
by Michael R. Burch
There’s no seeing eye to eye
with the awesomely huge Hippopotami:
on the bank, you’re much taller;
going under, you’re smaller
and assuredly destined to die!
Ballade of the Bicameral Camel
by Michael R. Burch
There once was a camel who loved to ****.
Please get your lewd minds out of their slump!
He loved to give RIDES on his large, lordly lump!
The Echoless Green
by Michael R. Burch
for and after William Blake
At dawn, laughter rang
on the echoing green
as children at play
greeted the day.
At noon, smiles were seen
on the echoing green
as, children no more,
many fine vows they swore.
By twilight, their cries
had subsided to sighs.
Now night reigns supreme
on the echoless green.
Unlikely Mike
by Michael R. Burch
I married someone else’s fantasy;
she admired me despite my mutilations.
I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
I hid my face and changed its connotations.
And in the dark I danced—slight, Chaplinesque—
a metaphor myself. How could they know,
the undiscerning ones, that in the glow
of spotlights, sometimes love becomes burlesque?
Disfigured to my soul, I could not lose
or choose or name myself; I came to be
another of life’s odd dichotomies,
like Dickey’s Sheep Boy, Pan, or David Cruse:
as pale, as enigmatic. White, or black?
My color was a song, a changing track.
Spring Was Delayed
by Michael R. Burch
Winter came early:
the driving snows,
the delicate frosts
that crystallize
all we forget
or refuse to know,
all we regret
that makes us wise.
Spring was delayed:
the nubile rose,
the tentative sun,
the wind’s soft sighs,
all we omit
or refuse to show,
whatever we shield
behind guarded eyes.
Originally published by Borderless Journal
The Shijing or **** Jing (“Book of Songs” or “Book of Odes”) is the oldest Chinese poetry collection, with the poems included believed to date from around 1200 BC to 600 BC. According to tradition the poems were selected and edited by Confucius himself. Since most ancient poetry did not rhyme, these may be the world’s oldest extant rhyming poems.
Shijing Ode #4: “JIU MU”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branches
thick with vines that make them shady,
we find our lovely princely lady:
May she repose in happiness!
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branches
whose clinging vines make hot days shady,
we wish love’s embrace for our lovely lady:
May she repose in happiness!
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branches
whose vines, entwining, make them shady,
we wish true love for our lovely lady:
May she repose in happiness!
Shijing Ode #6: “TAO YAO”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The peach tree is elegant and tender;
its flowers are fragrant, and bright.
A young lady now enters her future home
and will manage it well, day and night.
The peach tree is elegant and tender;
its fruits are abundant, and sweet.
A young lady now enters her future home
and will make it welcome to everyone she greets.
The peach tree is elegant and tender;
it shelters with bough, leaf and flower.
A young lady now enters her future home
and will make it her family’s bower.
Shijing Ode #9: “HAN GUANG”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the South tall trees without branches
offer men no shelter.
By the Han the girls loiter,
but it’s vain to entice them.
For the breadth of the Han
cannot be swum
and the length of the Jiang
requires more than a raft.
When cords of firewood are needed,
I would cut down tall thorns to bring them more.
Those girls on their way to their future homes?
I would feed their horses.
But the breadth of the Han
cannot be swum
and the length of the Jiang
requires more than a raft.
When cords of firewood are needed,
I would cut down tall trees to bring them more.
Those girls on their way to their future homes?
I would feed their colts.
But the breadth of the Han
cannot be swum
and the length of the Jiang
requires more than a raft.
Shijing Ode #10: “RU FEN”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By raised banks of the Ru,
I cut down branches in the brake.
Not seeing my lord
caused me heartache.
By raised banks of the Ru,
I cut down branches by the tide.
When I saw my lord at last,
he did not cast me aside.
The bream flashes its red tail;
the royal court’s a blazing fire.
Though it blazes afar,
still his loved ones are near ...
It was apparently believed that the bream’s tail turned red when it was in danger. Here the term “lord” does not necessarily mean the man in question was a royal himself. Chinese women of that era often called their husbands “lord.” Take, for instance, Ezra Pound’s famous loose translation “The River Merchant’s Wife.” Speaking of Pound, I borrowed the word “brake” from his translation of this poem, although I worked primarily from more accurate translations. In the final line, it may be that the wife or lover is suggesting that no matter what happens, the man in question will have a place to go, or perhaps she is urging him to return regardless. The original poem had “mother and father” rather than “family” or “loved ones,” but in those days young married couples often lived with the husband’s parents. So a suggestion to return to his parents could be a suggestion to return to his wife as well.
Shijing Ode #12: “QUE CHAO”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The nest is the magpie's
but the dove occupies it.
A young lady’s soon heading to her future home;
a hundred carriages will attend her.
The nest is the magpie's
but the dove takes it over.
A young lady’s soon heading to her future home;
a hundred carriages will escort her.
The nest is the magpie's
but the dove possesses it.
A young lady’s soon heading to her future home;
a hundred carriages complete her procession.
Shijing Ode #26: “BO ZHOU” from “The Odes of Bei”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This cypress-wood boat floats about,
meandering with the current.
Meanwhile, I am distraught and sleepless,
as if inflicted with a painful wound.
Not because I have no wine,
and can’t wander aimlessly about!
But my mind is not a mirror
able to echo all impressions.
Yes, I have brothers,
but they are undependable.
I meet their anger with silence.
My mind is not a stone
to be easily cast aside.
My mind is not a mat
to be conveniently rolled up.
My conduct so far has been exemplary,
with nothing to criticize.
Yet my anxious heart hesitates
because I’m hated by the herd,
inflicted with many distresses,
heaped with insults, not a few.
Silently I consider my case,
until, startled, as if from sleep, I clutch my breast.
Consider the sun and the moon:
how did the latter exceed the former?
Now sorrow clings to my heart
like an unwashed dress.
Silently I consider my options,
but lack the wings to fly away.
The Drawer of Mermaids
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to Alina Karimova, who was born with severely deformed legs and five fingers missing. Alina loves to draw mermaids and believes her fingers will eventually grow out.
Although I am only four years old,
they say that I have an old soul.
I must have been born long, long ago,
here, where the eerie mountains glow
at night, in the Urals.
A madman named Geiger has cursed these slopes;
now, shut in at night, the emphatic ticking
fills us with dread.
(Still, my momma hopes
that I will soon walk with my new legs.)
It’s not so much legs as the fingers I miss,
drawing the mermaids under the ledges.
(Observing, Papa will kiss me
in all his distracted joy;
but why does he cry?)
And there is a boy
who whispers my name.
Then I am not lame;
for I leap, and I follow.
(G’amma brings a wiseman who says
our infirmities are ours, not God’s,
that someday a beautiful Child
will return from the stars,
and then my new fingers will grow
if only I trust Him; and so
I am preparing to meet Him, to go,
should He care to receive me.)
Keywords/Tags: mermaid, mermaids, child, children, childhood, Urals, Ural Mountains, soul, soulmate, radiation
On the Horns of a Dilemma (I)
by Michael R. Burch
Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn is so ***** it lofts her thus?
I need an artist or cartoonist to create an image of a male rhino lifting his prospective mate into the air during an abortive kiss. Any takers?
On the Horns of a Dilemma (II)
by Michael R. Burch
Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn deforms her esophagus?
On the Horns of a Dilemma (III)
by Michael R. Burch
A wino rhino said, “I know!
I have a horn I cannot blow!
And so,
ergo,
I’ll watch the lovely spigot flow!
The Horns of a Dilemma Solved, if not Solvent
by Michael R. Burch
A wine-addled rhino debated
the prospect of living unmated
due to the scorn
gals showed for his horn,
then lost it to poachers, sedated.
The Arrival of the Sea Lions
by Michael R. Burch
The sound
of hounds
resounds in the sound.
Hounds Impounded
by Michael R. Burch
The sound
of hounds
resounds
in the pound.
Prince Kiwi the Great
by Michael R. Burch
Kiwi’s
a ***-wee
but incredibly bright:
he sleeps half the day,
pretending it’s night!
Prince Kiwi
commands us
with his regal air:
“Come, humans, and serve me,
or I’ll yank your hair!”
Kiwi
cries “Kree! Kree!”
when he wants to be fed ...
suns, preens, flutters, showers,
then it’s off to bed.
Kiwi’s
a ***-wee
but incredibly bright:
he sleeps half the day,
pretending it’s night!
Kiwi is our family’s green-cheeked parakeet. Parakeets need to sleep around 12 hours per day, hence the pun on “bright” and “half the day.”
Ah! Sunflower
by Michael R. Burch
after William Blake
O little yellow flower
like a star ...
how beautiful,
how wonderful
we are!
Published as the collection "When Pigs Fly"
When Pigs Fly
by Michael R. Burch
On the Trail of Tears,
my Cherokee brothers,
why hang your heads?
Why shame your mothers?
Laugh wildly instead!
We will soon be dead.
When we lie in our graves,
let the white-eyes take
the woodlands we loved
for the *** and the rake.
It is better to die
than to live out a lie
in so narrow a sty.
In October 1838 the Cherokees began to walk the "Trail of Tears." Most of them made the thousand mile journey west to Oklahoma on foot. An estimated 4,000 people, or a quarter of the tribe, died en route. The soldiers "escorting" the Cherokees at bayonet point refused permission for the dead to be buried, threatening to shoot anyone who disobeyed. So the living were forced to carry the corpses of the dead until camp was made for the night. Years after the Cherokees had been rounded up and driven down the Trail of Tears, John G. Burnett reflected on what he and his fellow soldiers had done, saying, "Schoolchildren of today do not know that we are living on lands that were taken from a helpless race at the bayonet point, to satisfy the white man's greed... ****** is ****** and somebody must answer, somebody must explain the streams of blood that flowed in the Indian country... Somebody must explain the four thousand silent graves that mark the trail of the Cherokees to their exile." Keywords/Tags: Cherokee, Native American, Trail of Tears, Ethnic Cleansing, Genocide, ******, Evil, Death, March, Death March, Infanticide, Matricide, Racism, Racist, Discrimination, Violence, Fascism, White Supremacists, Horror, Terror, Terrorism, Greed, Gluttony, Avarice, Lust, ****, mrbpig, mrbpigs
Cherokee Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As I walk life's trails
imperiled by the raging wind and rain,
grant, O Great Spirit,
that yet I may always
walk like a man.
This prayer makes me think of Native Americans walking the Trail of Tears with far more courage and dignity than their “civilized” abusers.
Native American Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Help us learn the lessons you have left us
in every leaf and rock.
Dream Song of the Thunders
Chippewa saying
translation by Michael R. Burch
Sometimes I bemoan my “plight”
when all the while
the wind bears me across the immense sky.
Native American Travelers' Blessing
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us walk together here
among earth's creatures great and small,
remembering, our footsteps light,
that one wise God created all.
Sioux Vision Quest
by Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux, circa 1840-1877
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A man must pursue his Vision
as the eagle explores
the sky's deepest blues.
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing I
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I will extract the thorns from your feet.
For yet a little while, we will walk life's sunlit paths together.
I will love you like my own brother, my own blood.
When you are disconsolate, I will wipe the tears from your eyes.
And when you are too sad to live, I will put your aching heart to rest.
Published by Better Than Starbucks and Cherokee Native Americans
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing II
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Happily may you walk
in the paths of the Rainbow.
Oh,
and may it always be beautiful before you,
beautiful behind you,
beautiful below you,
beautiful above you,
and beautiful all around you
where in Perfection beauty is finished.
Published by Better Than Starbucks
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing III
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May Heaven’s warming winds blow gently there,
where you reside,
and may the Great Spirit bless all those you love,
this side of the farthest tide.
And wherever you go,
whether the journey is fast or slow,
may your moccasins leave many cunning footprints in the snow.
And when you look over your shoulder, may you always find the Rainbow.
Published by Better Than Starbucks
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of the winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
―Blackfoot saying, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warrior's Confession
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh my love, how fair you are—
far brighter than the fairest star!
Cherokee Proverb
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Before you judge
a man for his sins
be sure to trudge
many moons in his moccasins.
Cherokee Prayer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
As I walk life's trails
imperiled by the raging wind and rain,
grant, O Great Spirit,
that yet I may always
walk like a man.
When I think of this prayer, I think of Native Americans walking the Trail of Tears.
The Receiving of the Flower
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let us sing overflowing with joy
as we observe the Receiving of the Flower.
The lovely maidens beam;
their hearts leap in their *******.
Why?
Because they will soon yield their virginity to the men they love!
The Deflowering
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Remove your clothes;
let down your hair;
become as naked as the day you were born—
virgins!
Prelude to *******
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lay out your most beautiful clothes,
maidens!
The day of happiness has arrived!
Grab your combs, detangle your hair,
adorn your earlobes with gaudy pendants.
Dress in white as becomes maidens ...
Then go, give your lovers the happiness of your laughter!
And all the village will rejoice with you,
for the day of happiness has arrived!
The Flower-Strewn Pool
excerpt from a Mayan love poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You have arrived at last in the woods
where no one can see what you do
at the flower-strewn pool ...
Remove your clothes,
unbraid your hair,
become as you were
when you first arrived here
naked and shameless,
virgins, maidens!
Native American Proverbs
The soul would see no Rainbows if not for the eyes’ tears.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A woman’s highest calling is to help her man unite with the Source.
A man’s highest calling is to help his woman walk the earth unharmed.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced.
Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.
—White Elk, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of a winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
—Blackfoot saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
Speak less thunder, wield more lightning. — Apache proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The more we wonder, the more we understand. — Arapaho proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Adults talk, children whine. — Blackfoot proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Don’t be afraid to cry: it will lessen your sorrow. — Hopi proverb
One foot in the boat, one foot in the canoe, and you end up in the river. — Tuscarora proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Our enemy's weakness increases our strength. — Cherokee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
We will be remembered tomorrow by the tracks we leave today. — Dakota proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
No sound's as eloquent as a rattlesnake's tail. — Navajo saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
The heart is our first teacher. — Cheyenne proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Dreams beget success. — Maricopa proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Knowledge interprets the past, wisdom foresees the future. — Lumbee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The troublemaker's way is thorny. — Umpqua proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Earthbound
an original poem by Michael R. Burch
Tashunka Witko, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.
Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.
Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.
Years after the Cherokees had been rounded up and driven down the Trail of Tears, John G. Burnett reflected on what he and his fellow soldiers had done, saying, "Schoolchildren of today do not know that we are living on lands that were taken from a helpless race at the bayonet point, to satisfy the white man's greed ... ****** is ****** and somebody must answer, somebody must explain the streams of blood that flowed in the Indian country ... Somebody must explain the four thousand silent graves that mark the trail of the Cherokees to their exile."
In the same year, 1830, that Stonewall Jackson consigned Native Americans to the ash-heap of history, Georgia Governor George Gilmer said, "Treaties are expedients by which ignorant, intractable, and savage people are induced ... to yield up what civilized people have the right to possess." By "civilized" he apparently meant people willing to brutally dispossess and **** women and children in order to derive economic benefits for themselves.
These nights bring dreams of Cherokee shamans
whose names are bright verbs and impacted dark nouns,
whose memories are indictments of my pallid flesh . . .
and I hear, as from a great distance,
the cries tortured from their guileless lips, proclaiming
the nature of my mutation.
―Michael R. Burch, from "Mongrel Dreams" (my family is part Cherokee, English and Scottish)
After Jackson was re-elected with an overwhelming majority in 1832, he strenuously pursued his policy of removing Native Americans, even refusing to accept a Supreme Court ruling which invalidated Georgia's planned annexation of Cherokee land. But in the double-dealing logic of the white supremacists, they had to make the illegal resettlement of the Indians appear to be "legal," so a small group of Cherokees were persuaded to sign the "Treaty of New Echota," which swapped Cherokee land for land in the Oklahoma territory. The Cherokee ringleaders of this infamous plot were later assassinated as traitors. (****** was similarly obsessed with the "legalities" of the **** Holocaust; isn't it strange how mass murderers of women and children can seek to justify their crimes?)
Native Americans understood the "circle of life" better than their white oppressors ...
When we sit in the Circle of the People,
we must be responsible because all Creation is related
and the suffering of one is the suffering of all
and the joy of one is the joy of all
and whatever we do affects everything in the universe.
—"Lakota Instructions for Living" by White Buffalo Calf Woman, translated by Michael R. Burch
Veiled
by Michael R. Burch
She has belief
without comprehension
and in her crutchwork shack
she is
much like us . . .
tamping the bread
into edible forms,
regarding her children
at play
with something akin to relief . . .
ignoring the towers ablaze
in the distance
because they are not revelations
but things of glass,
easily shattered . . .
and if you were to ask her,
she might say:
sometimes God visits his wrath
upon an impious nation
for its leaders’ sins,
and we might agree:
seeing her mutilations.
Published by Poetry Super Highway and Modern War Poems.
Ali’s Song
by Michael R. Burch
They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so.
They say it has a wild, unearthly glow.
A man can be more beautiful, more wild.
I flung their medal to the river, child.
I flung their medal to the river, child.
They hung their coin around my neck; they made
my name a bridle, “called a ***** a *****.”
They say their gold is pure. I say defiled.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.
Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong
that never called me ******, did me wrong.
A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild.
I flung their notice to the river, child.
I flung their notice to the river, child.
They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun,
and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.”
At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.
My face reflected up, dark bronze like gold,
a coin God stamped in His own image―BOLD.
My blood boiled like that river―strange and wild.
I died to hate in that dark river, child,
Come, be reborn in this bright river, child.
Originally published by Black Medina
Note: Cassius Clay, who converted to Islam and changed his “slave name” to Muhammad Ali, said that he threw his Olympic boxing gold medal into the Ohio River. Confirming his account, the medal was recovered by Robert Bradbury and his wife Pattie in 2014 during the Annual Ohio River Sweep, and the Ali family paid them $200,000 to regain possession of the medal. When drafted during the Vietnamese War, Ali refused to serve, reputedly saying: “I ain't got no quarrel with those Viet Cong; no Vietnamese ever called me a ******.” The notice mentioned in my poem is Ali's draft notice, which metaphorically gets tossed into the river along with his slave name. I was told through the grapevine that this poem appeared in Farsi in an Iranian publication called Bashgah. ―Michael R. Burch
evol-u-shun
by Michael R. Burch
does GOD adore the Tyger
while it’s ripping ur lamb apart?
does GOD applaud the Plague
while it’s eating u à la carte?
does GOD admire ur intelligence
while u pray that IT has a heart?
does GOD endorse the Bible
you blue-lighted at k-mart?
Enheduanna, the daughter of the famous King Sargon the Great of Akkad, is the first ancient writer whose name remains known today. She appears to be the first named poet in human history and the first known author of prayers and hymns. Enheduanna, who lived circa 2285-2250 BCE, is also one of the first women we know by name.
Lament to the Spirit of War
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
You hack down everything you see, War God!
Rising on fearsome wings
you rush to destroy the land,
descending like a raging storm,
howling like a hurricane,
screaming like a tempest,
thundering, raging, ranting, drumming,
whiplashing whirlwinds!
Men falter at your approaching footsteps.
Tortured dirges scream
on your lyre of despair.
Like a fiery Salamander you poison the land:
growling over the earth like thunder,
vegetation collapsing before you,
blood gushing down a mountainside.
Spirit of hatred, greed and vengeance!
******* of heaven and earth!
Your ferocious fire consumes our land.
Whipping your stallion
with furious commands,
you decide our fate.
You triumph over all human rites and prayers.
Who can explain your tirade,
why you go on so?
Temple Hymn 15
to the Gishbanda Temple of Ningishzida
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Most ancient and terrible shrine,
set deep in the mountain,
dark like a mother's womb...
Dark shrine,
like a mother's wounded breast,
blood-red and terrifying...
Though approaching through a safe-seeming field,
our hair stands on end as we near you!
Gishbanda,
like a neck-stock,
like a fine-eyed fish net,
like a foot-shackled prisoner's manacles...
your ramparts are massive,
like a trap!
But once we’re inside,
as the sun rises,
you yield widespread abundance!
Your prince
is the pure-handed priest of Inanna, heaven's Holy One,
Lord Ningishzida!
Oh, see how his thick, lustrous hair
cascades down his back!
Oh Gishbanda,
he has built this beautiful temple to house your radiance!
He has placed his throne upon your dais!
The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines and Excerpts
by Enheduanna, the daughter of Sargon I of Akkad and the high priestess of the Goddess Inanna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lady of all divine powers!
Lady of the resplendent light!
Righteous Lady adorned in heavenly radiance!
Beloved Lady of An and Uraš!
Hierodule of An, sun-adorned and bejeweled!
Heaven’s Mistress with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her own high priestess!
Powerful Mistress, seizer of the seven divine powers!
My Heavenly Lady, guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the seven divine powers!
You hold the divine powers in your hand!
You have gathered together the seven divine powers!
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!
You have flooded the valleys with venom, like a viper;
all vegetation vanishes when you thunder like Iškur!
You have caused the mountains to flood the valleys!
When you roar like that, nothing on earth can withstand you!
Like a flood descending on floodplains, O Powerful One, you will teach foreigners to fear Inanna!
You have given wings to the storm, O Beloved of Enlil!
The storms do your bidding, blasting the unbelievers!
Foreign cities cower at the chaos You cause!
Entire countries cower in dread of Your deadly South Wind!
Men cower before you in their anguished implications,
raising their pitiful outcries,
weeping and wailing, beseeching Your benevolence with many wild lamentations!
But in the van of battle, everything falls before You, O Mighty Queen!
My Queen,
You are all-conquering, all-devouring!
You continue Your attacks like relentless storms!
You howl louder than the howling storms!
You thunder louder than Iškur!
You moan louder than the mournful winds!
Your feet never tire from trampling Your enemies!
You produce much wailing on the lyres of lamentations!
My Queen,
all the Anunna, the mightiest Gods,
fled before Your approach like fluttering bats!
They could not stand in Your awesome Presence
nor behold Your awesome Visage!
Who can soothe Your infuriated heart?
Your baleful heart is beyond being soothed!
Uncontrollable Wild Cow, elder daughter of Sin,
O Majestic Queen, greater than An,
who has ever paid You enough homage?
O Life-Giving Goddess, possessor of all powers,
Inanna the Exalted!
Merciful, Live-Giving Mother!
Inanna, the Radiant of Heart!
I have exalted You in accordance with Your power!
I have bowed before You in my holy garb,
I the En, I Enheduanna!
Carrying my masab-basket, I once entered and uttered my joyous chants ...
But now I no longer dwell in Your sanctuary.
The sun rose and scorched me.
Night fell and the South Wind overwhelmed me.
My laughter was stilled and my honey-sweet voice grew strident.
My joy became dust.
O Sin, King of Heaven, how bitter my fate!
To An, I declared: An will deliver me!
I declared it to An: He will deliver me!
But now the kingship of heaven has been seized by Inanna,
at Whose feet the floodplains lie.
Inanna the Exalted,
who has made me tremble together with all Ur!
Stay Her anger, or let Her heart be soothed by my supplications!
I, Enheduanna will offer my supplications to Inanna,
my tears flowing like sweet intoxicants!
Yes, I will proffer my tears and my prayers to the Holy Inanna,
I will greet Her in peace ...
O My Queen, I have exalted You,
Who alone are worthy to be exalted!
O My Queen, Beloved of An,
I have laid out Your daises,
set fire to the coals,
conducted the rites,
prepared Your nuptial chamber.
Now may Your heart embrace me!
These are my innovations,
O Mighty Queen, that I made for You!
What I composed for You by the dark of night,
The cantor will chant by day.
Now Inanna’s heart has been restored,
and the day became favorable to Her.
Clothed in beauty, radiant with joy,
she carried herself like the elegant moonlight.
Now to the Noble Hierodule,
to the Wrecker of foreign lands
presented by An with the seven divine powers,
and to my Queen garbed in the radiance of heaven ...
O Inanna, praise!
The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines, an Excerpt
Nin-me-šara by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Lady of all divine powers,
Lady of the all-resplendent light,
Righteous Lady clothed in heavenly radiance,
Beloved Lady of An and Uraš,
Mistress of heaven with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her high priestess,
Powerful Mistress who has seized all seven divine powers,
My lady, you are the guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the divine powers,
You hold the divine powers in your hand,
You have gathered up the divine powers,
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!
Like a dragon you have spewed venom on foreign lands that know you not!
When you roar like Iškur at the earth, nothing can withstand you!
Like a flood descending on alien lands, O Powerful One of heaven and earth, you will teach them to fear Inanna!
Temple Hymn 7: an Excerpt
to the Kesh Temple of Ninhursag
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, high-situated Kesh,
form-shifting summit,
inspiring fear like a venomous viper!
O, Lady of the Mountains,
Ninhursag’s house was constructed on a terrifying site!
O, Kesh, like holy Aratta: your womb dark and deep,
your walls high-towering and imposing!
O, great lion of the wildlands stalking the high plains!...
Temple Hymn 17: an Excerpt
to the Badtibira Temple of Dumuzi
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, house of jeweled lapis illuminating the radiant bed
in the peace-inducing palace of our Lady of the Steppe!
Temple Hymn 22: an Excerpt
to the Sirara Temple of Nanshe
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, house, you wild cow!
Made to conjure signs of the Divine!
You arise, beautiful to behold,
bedecked for your Mistress!
Temple Hymn 26: an Excerpt
to the Zabalam Temple of Inanna
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O house illuminated by beams of bright light,
dressed in shimmering stone jewels,
awakening the world to awe!
Temple Hymn 42: an Excerpt
to the Eresh Temple of Nisaba
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
O, house of brilliant stars
bright with lapis stones,
you illuminate all lands!
...
The person who put this tablet together
is Enheduanna.
My king: something never created before,
did she not give birth to it?
Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague"
by Michael R. Burch
THE PLAGUE has come again
To darken lives of men
and women, girls and boys;
Death proves their bodies toys
Too frail to even cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Tycoons, what use is wealth?
You cannot buy good health!
Physicians cannot heal
Themselves, to Death must kneel.
Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty’s brightest flower?
Devoured in an hour.
Kings, Queens and Presidents
Are fearful residents
Of manors boarded high.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
We have no means to save
Our children from the grave.
Though cure-alls line our shelves,
We cannot save ourselves.
"Come, come!" the sad bells cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
NOTE: This poem is meant to capture the understandable fear and dismay the Plague caused in the Middle Ages, and which the coronavirus has caused in the 21st century. We are better equipped to deal with this modern plague, thanks to advances in science, medicine and sanitation. We do not have to succumb to fear, but it would be wise to have a healthy respect for the nasty bug and heed the advice of medical experts.--MRB
Regret
by Michael R. Burch
Regret,
a bitter
ache to bear . . .
once starlight
languished
in your hair . . .
a shining there
as brief
as rare.
Regret . . .
a pain
I chose to bear . . .
unleash
the torrent
of your hair . . .
and show me
once again―
how rare.
Published by The HyperTexts and The Chained Muse
The Stake
by Michael R. Burch
Love, the heart bets,
if not without regrets,
will still prove, in the end,
worth the light we expend
mining the dark
for an exquisite heart.
Originally published by The Lyric
If
by Michael R. Burch
If I regret
fire in the sunset
exploding on the horizon,
then let me regret loving you.
If I forget
even for a moment
that you are the only one,
then let me forget that the sky is blue.
If I should yearn
in a season of discontentment
for the vagabond light of a companionless moon,
let dawn remind me that you are my sun.
If I should burn―one moment less brightly,
one instant less true―
then with wild scorching kisses,
inflame me, inflame me, inflame me anew.
Originally published by The HyperTexts
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch
A black ringlet
curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember:
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh ...
our soft cries, like regret,
... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...
now that I have forgotten her face.
Villanelle: Because Her Heart Is Tender
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
She scrawled soft words in soap: "Never Forget,"
Dove-white on her car's window, and the wren,
because her heart is tender, might regret
it called the sun to wake her. As I slept,
she heard lost names recounted, one by one.
She wrote in sidewalk chalk: "Never Forget,"
and kept her heart's own counsel. No rain swept
away those words, no tear leaves them undone.
Because her heart is tender with regret,
bruised by razed towers' glass and steel and stone
that shatter on and on and on and on,
she stitches in wet linen: "NEVER FORGET,"
and listens to her heart's emphatic song.
The wren might tilt its head and sing along
because its heart once understood regret
when fledglings fell beyond, beyond, beyond ...
its reach, and still the boot-heeled world strode on.
She writes in adamant: "NEVER FORGET"
because her heart is tender with regret.
To the boy Elis
by Georg Trakl
translation by Michael R. Burch
Elis, when the blackbird cries from the black forest,
it announces your downfall.
Your lips sip the rock-spring's blue coolness.
Your brow sweats blood
recalling ancient myths
and dark interpretations of birds' flight.
Yet you enter the night with soft footfalls;
the ripe purple grapes hang suspended
as you wave your arms more beautifully in the blueness.
A thornbush crackles;
where now are your moonlike eyes?
How long, oh Elis, have you been dead?
A monk dips waxed fingers
into your body's hyacinth;
Our silence is a black abyss
from which sometimes a docile animal emerges
slowly lowering its heavy lids.
A black dew drips from your temples:
the lost gold of vanished stars.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: I believe that in the second stanza the blood on Elis's forehead may be a reference to the apprehensive ****** sweat of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. If my interpretation is correct, Elis hears the blackbird's cries, anticipates the danger represented by a harbinger of death, but elects to continue rather than turn back. From what I have been able to gather, the color blue had a special significance for Georg Trakl: it symbolized longing and perhaps a longing for death. The colors blue, purple and black may represent a progression toward death in the poem.
Turkish Poetry Translations
Attilâ İlhan (1925-2005) was a Turkish poet, translator, novelist, screenwriter, editor, journalist, essayist, reviewer, socialist and intellectual.
Ben Sana Mecburum: “You are indispensable”
by Attila Ilhan
translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
You are indispensable; how can you not know
that you’re like nails riveting my brain?
I see your eyes as ever-expanding dimensions.
You are indispensable; how can you not know
that I burn within, at the thought of you?
Trees prepare themselves for autumn;
can this city be our lost Istanbul?
Now clouds disintegrate in the darkness
as the street lights flicker
and the streets reek with rain.
You are indispensable, and yet you are absent ...
Love sometimes seems akin to terror:
a man tires suddenly at nightfall,
of living enslaved to the razor at his neck.
Sometimes he wrings his hands,
expunging other lives from his existence.
Sometimes whichever door he knocks
echoes back only heartache.
A screechy phonograph is playing in Fatih ...
a song about some Friday long ago.
I stop to listen from a vacant corner,
longing to bring you an untouched sky,
but time disintegrates in my hands.
Whatever I do, wherever I go,
you are indispensable, and yet you are absent ...
Are you the blue child of June?
Ah, no one knows you―no one knows!
Your deserted eyes are like distant freighters ...
Perhaps you are boarding in Yesilköy?
Are you drenched there, shivering with the rain
that leaves you blind, beset, broken,
with wind-disheveled hair?
Whenever I think of life
seated at the wolves’ table,
shameless, yet without soiling our hands ...
Yes, whenever I think of life,
I begin with your name, defying the silence,
and your secret tides surge within me
making this voyage inevitable.
You are indispensable; how can you not know?
Fragments
by Attila Ilhan
loose English translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
The night is a cloudy-feathered owl,
its quills like fine-spun glass.
It gazes out the window,
perched on my right shoulder,
its wings outspread and huge.
If the encroaching darkness seems devastating at first glance,
the sovereign of everything,
its reach infinite ...
Still somewhere within a kernel of light glows secretly
creating an enlightened forest of dialectics.
In September’s waning days one thinks wanly of the arrival of fall
like a ship appearing on the horizon with untrimmed, tattered sails;
for some unfathomable reason fall is the time to consider one’s own demise―
the body smothered by yellowed leaves like a corpse rotting in a ghoulish photograph ...
Bitter words
crack like whips
snapping across prison yards ...
Then there are words like pomegranate trees in bloom,
words like the sun igniting the sea beyond mountainous horizons,
flashing like mysterious knives ...
Such words are the burning roses of an infinite imagination;
they are born and they die with the flutterings of butterflies;
we carry those words in our hearts like pregnant shotguns until the day we expire,
martyred for the words we were prepared to die for ...
What I wrote and what you understood? Curious and curiouser!
Mehmet Akif Ersoy: Modern English Translations of Turkish Poems
Mehmet Âkif Ersoy (1873-1936) was a Turkish poet, author, writer, academic, member of parliament, and the composer of the Turkish National Anthem.
Snapshot
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Earth’s least trace of life cannot be erased;
even when you lie underground, it encompasses you.
So, those of you who anticipate the shadows,
how long will the darkness remember you?
Zulmü Alkislayamam
"I Can’t Applaud Tyranny"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I can't condone cruelty; I will never applaud the oppressor;
Yet I can't renounce the past for the sake of deluded newcomers.
When someone curses my ancestors, I want to strangle them,
Even if you don’t.
But while I harbor my elders,
I refuse to praise their injustices.
Above all, I will never glorify evil, by calling injustice “justice.”
From the day of my birth, I've loved freedom;
The golden tulip never deceived me.
If I am nonviolent, does that make me a docile sheep?
The blade may slice, but my neck resists!
When I see someone else's wound, I suffer a great hardship;
To end it, I'll be whipped, I'll be beaten.
I can't say, “Never mind, just forget it!” I'll mind,
I'll crush, I'll be crushed, I'll uphold justice.
I'm the foe of the oppressor, the friend of the oppressed.
What the hell do you mean, with your backwardness?
Çanakkale Sehitlerine
"For the Çanakkale Martyrs"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Was there ever anything like the Bosphorus war?―
The earth’s mightiest armies pressing Marmara,
Forcing entry between her mountain passes
To a triangle of land besieged by countless vessels.
Oh, what dishonorable assemblages!
Who are these Europeans, come as rapists?
Who, these braying hyenas, released from their reeking cages?
Why do the Old World, the New World, and all the nations of men
now storm her beaches? Is it Armageddon? Truly, the whole world rages!
Seven nations marching in unison!
Australia goose-stepping with Canada!
Different faces, languages, skin tones!
Everything so different, but the mindless bludgeons!
Some warriors Hindu, some African, some nameless, unknown!
This disgraceful invasion, baser than the Black Death!
Ah, the 20th century, so noble in its own estimation,
But all its favored ones nothing but a parade of worthless wretches!
For months now Turkish soldiers have been vomited up
Like stomachs’ retched contents regarded with shame.
If the masks had not been torn away, the faces would still be admired,
But the ***** called civilization is far from blameless.
Now the ****** demand the destruction of the doomed
And thus bring destruction down on their own heads.
Lightning severs horizons!
Earthquakes regurgitate the bodies of the dead!
Bombs’ thunderbolts explode brains,
rupture the ******* of brave soldiers.
Underground tunnels writhe like hell
Full of the bodies of burn victims.
The sky rains down death, the earth swallows the living.
A terrible blizzard heaves men violently into the air.
Heads, eyes, torsos, legs, arms, chins, fingers, hands, feet ...
Body parts rain down everywhere.
Coward hands encased in armor callously scatter
Floods of thunderbolts, torrents of fire.
Men’s chests gape open,
Beneath the high, circling vulture-like packs of the air.
Cannonballs fly as frequently as bullets
Yet the heroic army laughs at the hail.
Who needs steel fortresses? Who fears the enemy?
How can the shield of faith not prevail?
What power can make religious men bow down to their oppressors
When their stronghold is established by God?
The mountains and the rocks are the bodies of martyrs! ...
For the sake of a crescent, oh God, many suns set, undone!
Dear soldier, who fell for the sake of this land,
How great you are, your blood saves the Muslims!
Only the lions of Bedr rival your glory!
Who then can dig the grave wide enough to hold you. and your story?
If we try to consign you to history, you will not fit!
No book can contain the eras you shook!
Only eternities can encompass you! ...
Oh martyr, son of the martyr, do not ask me about the grave:
The prophet awaits you now, his arms flung wide open, to save!
Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”)
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
for the refugees
The time to weigh anchor has come;
a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown,
cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts.
No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure;
the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief,
scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring ...
Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing!
There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life!
The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile,
for they cannot know where the vanished are bound.
Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves,
since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey.
Full Moon
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
You are so lovely
the full moon just might
delight
in your rising,
as curious
and bright,
to vanquish night.
But what can a mortal man do,
dear,
but hope?
I’ll ponder your mysteries
and (hmmmm) try to
cope.
We both know
you have every right to say no.
The Music of the Snow
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years!
This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years!
Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery,
It rises from a choir of a hundred voices!
As the *****’s harmonies resound profoundly,
I share the sufferings of Slavic grief.
My mind drifts far from this city, this era,
To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey.
Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear,
With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul!
Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me;
I keep them at bay all night with my dreams!
Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer.
Thinking of you
by Nazim Hikmet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thinking of you is beautiful, hopeful―
like listening to the most beautiful songs
sung by the earth's most beautiful voices.
But hope is insufficient for me now;
I don't want to listen to songs.
I want to sing love into birth.
I love you
by Nazim Hikmet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love you―
like dipping bread into salt and eating;
like waking at night with a raging fever
and thirstily lapping up water, my mouth to the silver tap;
like unwrapping the unwieldy box the postman delivers,
unable to guess what's inside,
feeling fluttery, happy, doubtful.
I love you―
like flying over the sea the first time
as something stirs within me
while the sky softly darkens over Istanbul.
I love you―
as men thank God gratefully for life.
Sparrow
by Nazim Hikmet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Little sparrow,
perched on the clothesline,
do you regard me with pity?
Even so, I will watch you
soar away through the white spring leaves.
The Divan of the Lover
the oldest extant Turkish poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All the universe as one great sign is shown:
God revealed in his creative acts unknown.
Who sees or understands them, jinn or men?
Such works lie far beyond mere mortals’ ken.
Nor can man’s mind or reason reach that strand,
Nor mortal tongue name Him who rules that land.
Since He chose nothingness with life to vest,
who dares to trouble God with worms’ behests?
For eighteen thousand worlds, lain end to end,
Do not with Him one atom's worth transcend!
Fragment
by Prince Jem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Behold! The torrent, dashing against the rocks, flails wildly.
The entire vast realm of Space and Being oppresses my soul idly.
Through bitterness of grief and woe the sky has rent its morning robe.
Look! See how in its eastern palace, the sun is a ****** globe!
The clouds of heaven rain bright tears on the distant mountain peaks.
Oh, hear how the deeply wounded thunder slowly, mournfully speaks!
An Ecstasy of Fumbling
by Michael R. Burch
The poets believe
everything resolves to metaphor—
a distillation,
a vapor
beyond filtration,
though perhaps not quite as volatile as before.
The poets conceive
of death in the trenches
as the price of art,
not war,
fumbling with their masque-like
dissertations
to describe the Hollywood-like gore
as something beyond belief,
abstracting concrete bunkers to Achaemenid bas-relief.
Excerpts from “Travels with Einstein”
by Michael R. Burch
for Trump
I went to Berlin to learn wisdom
from Adolph. The wild spittle flew
as he screamed at me, with great conviction:
“Please despise me! I look like a Jew!”
So I flew off to ’Nam to learn wisdom
from tall Yankees who cursed “yellow” foes.
“If we lose this small square,” they informed me,
earth’s nations will fall, dominoes!”
I then sat at Christ’s feet to learn wisdom,
but his Book, from its genesis to close,
said: “Men can enslave their own brothers!”
(I soon noticed he lacked any clothes.)
So I traveled to bright Tel Aviv
where great scholars with lofty IQs
informed me that (since I’m an Arab)
I’m unfit to lick dirt from their shoes.
At last, done with learning, I stumbled
to a well where the waters seemed sweet:
the mirage of American “justice.”
There I wept a real sea, in defeat.
Originally published by Café Dissensus
The Leveler
by Michael R. Burch
The nature of Nature
is bitter survival
from Winter’s bleak fury
till Spring’s brief revival.
The weak implore Fate;
bold men ravish, dishevel her . . .
till both are cut down
by mere ticks of the Leveler.
I believe I wrote this poem around age 20, in 1978 or thereabouts. It has since been published in The Lyric, Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly and The Aurorean.
The Hippopotami
by Michael R. Burch
There’s no seeing eye to eye
with the awesomely huge Hippopotami:
on the bank, you’re much taller;
going under, you’re smaller
and assuredly destined to die!
Ballade of the Bicameral Camel
by Michael R. Burch
There once was a camel who loved to ****.
Please get your lewd minds out of their slump!
He loved to give RIDES on his large, lordly lump!
The Echoless Green
by Michael R. Burch
for and after William Blake
At dawn, laughter rang
on the echoing green
as children at play
greeted the day.
At noon, smiles were seen
on the echoing green
as, children no more,
many fine vows they swore.
By twilight, their cries
had subsided to sighs.
Now night reigns supreme
on the echoless green.
Unlikely Mike
by Michael R. Burch
I married someone else’s fantasy;
she admired me despite my mutilations.
I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
I hid my face and changed its connotations.
And in the dark I danced—slight, Chaplinesque—
a metaphor myself. How could they know,
the undiscerning ones, that in the glow
of spotlights, sometimes love becomes burlesque?
Disfigured to my soul, I could not lose
or choose or name myself; I came to be
another of life’s odd dichotomies,
like Dickey’s Sheep Boy, Pan, or David Cruse:
as pale, as enigmatic. White, or black?
My color was a song, a changing track.
Spring Was Delayed
by Michael R. Burch
Winter came early:
the driving snows,
the delicate frosts
that crystallize
all we forget
or refuse to know,
all we regret
that makes us wise.
Spring was delayed:
the nubile rose,
the tentative sun,
the wind’s soft sighs,
all we omit
or refuse to show,
whatever we shield
behind guarded eyes.
Originally published by Borderless Journal
The Shijing or **** Jing (“Book of Songs” or “Book of Odes”) is the oldest Chinese poetry collection, with the poems included believed to date from around 1200 BC to 600 BC. According to tradition the poems were selected and edited by Confucius himself. Since most ancient poetry did not rhyme, these may be the world’s oldest extant rhyming poems.
Shijing Ode #4: “JIU MU”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branches
thick with vines that make them shady,
we find our lovely princely lady:
May she repose in happiness!
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branches
whose clinging vines make hot days shady,
we wish love’s embrace for our lovely lady:
May she repose in happiness!
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branches
whose vines, entwining, make them shady,
we wish true love for our lovely lady:
May she repose in happiness!
Shijing Ode #6: “TAO YAO”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The peach tree is elegant and tender;
its flowers are fragrant, and bright.
A young lady now enters her future home
and will manage it well, day and night.
The peach tree is elegant and tender;
its fruits are abundant, and sweet.
A young lady now enters her future home
and will make it welcome to everyone she greets.
The peach tree is elegant and tender;
it shelters with bough, leaf and flower.
A young lady now enters her future home
and will make it her family’s bower.
Shijing Ode #9: “HAN GUANG”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In the South tall trees without branches
offer men no shelter.
By the Han the girls loiter,
but it’s vain to entice them.
For the breadth of the Han
cannot be swum
and the length of the Jiang
requires more than a raft.
When cords of firewood are needed,
I would cut down tall thorns to bring them more.
Those girls on their way to their future homes?
I would feed their horses.
But the breadth of the Han
cannot be swum
and the length of the Jiang
requires more than a raft.
When cords of firewood are needed,
I would cut down tall trees to bring them more.
Those girls on their way to their future homes?
I would feed their colts.
But the breadth of the Han
cannot be swum
and the length of the Jiang
requires more than a raft.
Shijing Ode #10: “RU FEN”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
By raised banks of the Ru,
I cut down branches in the brake.
Not seeing my lord
caused me heartache.
By raised banks of the Ru,
I cut down branches by the tide.
When I saw my lord at last,
he did not cast me aside.
The bream flashes its red tail;
the royal court’s a blazing fire.
Though it blazes afar,
still his loved ones are near ...
It was apparently believed that the bream’s tail turned red when it was in danger. Here the term “lord” does not necessarily mean the man in question was a royal himself. Chinese women of that era often called their husbands “lord.” Take, for instance, Ezra Pound’s famous loose translation “The River Merchant’s Wife.” Speaking of Pound, I borrowed the word “brake” from his translation of this poem, although I worked primarily from more accurate translations. In the final line, it may be that the wife or lover is suggesting that no matter what happens, the man in question will have a place to go, or perhaps she is urging him to return regardless. The original poem had “mother and father” rather than “family” or “loved ones,” but in those days young married couples often lived with the husband’s parents. So a suggestion to return to his parents could be a suggestion to return to his wife as well.
Shijing Ode #12: “QUE CHAO”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The nest is the magpie's
but the dove occupies it.
A young lady’s soon heading to her future home;
a hundred carriages will attend her.
The nest is the magpie's
but the dove takes it over.
A young lady’s soon heading to her future home;
a hundred carriages will escort her.
The nest is the magpie's
but the dove possesses it.
A young lady’s soon heading to her future home;
a hundred carriages complete her procession.
Shijing Ode #26: “BO ZHOU” from “The Odes of Bei”
ancient Chinese rhyming poem circa (1200 BC - 600 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This cypress-wood boat floats about,
meandering with the current.
Meanwhile, I am distraught and sleepless,
as if inflicted with a painful wound.
Not because I have no wine,
and can’t wander aimlessly about!
But my mind is not a mirror
able to echo all impressions.
Yes, I have brothers,
but they are undependable.
I meet their anger with silence.
My mind is not a stone
to be easily cast aside.
My mind is not a mat
to be conveniently rolled up.
My conduct so far has been exemplary,
with nothing to criticize.
Yet my anxious heart hesitates
because I’m hated by the herd,
inflicted with many distresses,
heaped with insults, not a few.
Silently I consider my case,
until, startled, as if from sleep, I clutch my breast.
Consider the sun and the moon:
how did the latter exceed the former?
Now sorrow clings to my heart
like an unwashed dress.
Silently I consider my options,
but lack the wings to fly away.
The Drawer of Mermaids
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to Alina Karimova, who was born with severely deformed legs and five fingers missing. Alina loves to draw mermaids and believes her fingers will eventually grow out.
Although I am only four years old,
they say that I have an old soul.
I must have been born long, long ago,
here, where the eerie mountains glow
at night, in the Urals.
A madman named Geiger has cursed these slopes;
now, shut in at night, the emphatic ticking
fills us with dread.
(Still, my momma hopes
that I will soon walk with my new legs.)
It’s not so much legs as the fingers I miss,
drawing the mermaids under the ledges.
(Observing, Papa will kiss me
in all his distracted joy;
but why does he cry?)
And there is a boy
who whispers my name.
Then I am not lame;
for I leap, and I follow.
(G’amma brings a wiseman who says
our infirmities are ours, not God’s,
that someday a beautiful Child
will return from the stars,
and then my new fingers will grow
if only I trust Him; and so
I am preparing to meet Him, to go,
should He care to receive me.)
Keywords/Tags: mermaid, mermaids, child, children, childhood, Urals, Ural Mountains, soul, soulmate, radiation
On the Horns of a Dilemma (I)
by Michael R. Burch
Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn is so ***** it lofts her thus?
I need an artist or cartoonist to create an image of a male rhino lifting his prospective mate into the air during an abortive kiss. Any takers?
On the Horns of a Dilemma (II)
by Michael R. Burch
Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn deforms her esophagus?
On the Horns of a Dilemma (III)
by Michael R. Burch
A wino rhino said, “I know!
I have a horn I cannot blow!
And so,
ergo,
I’ll watch the lovely spigot flow!
The Horns of a Dilemma Solved, if not Solvent
by Michael R. Burch
A wine-addled rhino debated
the prospect of living unmated
due to the scorn
gals showed for his horn,
then lost it to poachers, sedated.
The Arrival of the Sea Lions
by Michael R. Burch
The sound
of hounds
resounds in the sound.
Hounds Impounded
by Michael R. Burch
The sound
of hounds
resounds
in the pound.
Prince Kiwi the Great
by Michael R. Burch
Kiwi’s
a ***-wee
but incredibly bright:
he sleeps half the day,
pretending it’s night!
Prince Kiwi
commands us
with his regal air:
“Come, humans, and serve me,
or I’ll yank your hair!”
Kiwi
cries “Kree! Kree!”
when he wants to be fed ...
suns, preens, flutters, showers,
then it’s off to bed.
Kiwi’s
a ***-wee
but incredibly bright:
he sleeps half the day,
pretending it’s night!
Kiwi is our family’s green-cheeked parakeet. Parakeets need to sleep around 12 hours per day, hence the pun on “bright” and “half the day.”
Ah! Sunflower
by Michael R. Burch
after William Blake
O little yellow flower
like a star ...
how beautiful,
how wonderful
we are!
Published as the collection "When Pigs Fly"
These are modern English translations of Native American poems, proverbs, prayers, blessings and sayings, translated by Michael R. Burch.
Michael R Burch
Feb 2023
SAPPHO'S POEMS FOR ATTIS AND ANACTORIA
Most of Sappho's poems are fragments but the first poem below, variously titled "The Anactoria Poem, " "Helen's Eidolon" and "Some People Say" is largely intact. Was Sappho the author of the world's first 'make love, not war' poem?
Some People Say
Sappho, fragment 16 (Lobel-Page 16 / Voigt 16)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warriors on rearing chargers,
columns of infantry,
fleets of warships:
some call these the dark earth's redeeming visions.
But I say—
the one I desire.
Nor am I unique,
since she who so vastly surpassed all mortals in beauty
—Helen—
seduced by Aphrodite, led astray by desire,
departed for distant Troy,
abandoned her celebrated husband,
turned her back on her parents and child!
Her story reminds me of Anactoria,
who has also departed,
and whose lively dancing and lovely face
I would rather see than all the horsemen and war-chariots of the Lydians,
or their columns of infantry parading in flashing armor.
Ode to Anactoria or Ode to Attis
Sappho, fragment 94 (Lobel-Page 94 / Voigt 94)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So my Attis has not returned
and thus, let the truth be said,
I wish I were dead...
'Honestly, I just want to die! '
Attis sighed,
shedding heartfelt tears,
inconsolably sad
when she
left me.
'How deeply we have loved,
we two,
Sappho!
Oh,
I really don't want to go! '
I answered her tenderly,
'Go as you must
and be happy,
trust-
ing your remembrance of me,
for you know how much
I loved you.
And if you begin to forget,
please try to recall
all
the heavenly emotions we felt
as with many wreathes of violets,
roses and crocuses
you sat beside me
adorning your delicate neck.
Once garlands had been fashioned of many woven flowers,
with much expensive myrrh
we anointed our bodies like royalty
on soft couches,
then my tender caresses
fulfilled your desire...'
Unfortunately, fragment 94 has several gaps and I have tried to imagine what Sappho might have been saying.
The following are Sappho's poems for Attis or Atthis...
Sappho, fragment 49 (Lobel-Page 49 / Voigt 49)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I loved you, Attis, long ago...
even when you seemed a graceless child.
2.
I fell in love with you, Attis, long ago...
You seemed immature to me then, and not all that graceful.
(Source: Hephaestion, Plutarch and others.)
Sappho, fragment 131 (Lobel-Page 131 / Voigt 130)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You reject me, Attis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andrómeda...
Sappho, fragment 96 (Lobel-Page 96.1-22 / Voigt 96 / Diehl 98)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Attis, our beloved, dwells in distant Sardis, but her thoughts often return here, to our island, and how we honored her like a goddess, and how she loved to hear us singing her praises. Now she surpasses all Sardinian women, as, after sunset the rosy-fingered moon outshines the surrounding stars, illuminating salt seas and meadows alike. Thus the dew sparkles, the rose revives, and the tender chervil and sweetclover blossom. Now oftentimes when our beloved goes wandering abroad, she is reminded of our gentle Attis; then her heart assaults her tender breast with its painful pangs and she cries aloud for us to console her. Truly, we understand all too well the distress she feels, because Night, the many-eared, calls to us from across the dividing sea. But to go there is not easy, nor to rival a goddess in her loveliness.
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How can I compete with that ****** man
who fancies himself one of the gods,
impressing you with his 'eloquence' …
when just the thought of sitting in your radiant presence,
of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter,
sets my heart hammering at my breast?
Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you,
I'm left speechless, tongue-tied,
and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin.
Then my vision dims with tears,
my ears ring,
I sweat profusely,
and every muscle in my body trembles.
When the blood finally settles,
I grow paler than summer grass,
till in my exhausted madness,
I'm as limp as the dead.
And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you...
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To me that boy seems
blessed by the gods
because he sits beside you,
basking in your brilliant presence.
My heart races at the sound of your voice!
Your laughter? ―bright water, dislodging pebbles
in a chaotic vortex. I can't catch my breath!
My heart bucks in my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't speak.
My ******* glow with intense heat;
desire's blush-inducing fires redden my flesh.
My ears seem hollow; they ring emptily.
My tongue is broken and cleaves to its roof.
I sweat profusely. I shiver.
Suddenly, I grow pale
and feel only a second short of dying.
And yet I must endure, somehow,
despite my poverty.
The following poems by Sappho may have been addressed to Attis or Anactoria, or written with them in mind…
Sappho, fragment 22 (Lobel-Page 22 / Diehl 33,36)
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 34 (Lobel-Page 34 / Voigt 34)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Awed by the Moon's splendor,
the stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
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, since Sappho associates Anactoria with Lydia in fragment 16.
Sappho, fragment 2 (Lobel-Page 2.1A)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaving your heavenly summit,
I submit
to the mountain,
then plummet.
Sappho associates her lovers with higher elevations: the moon, stars, mountain peaks.
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May the gods prolong the night
—yes, let it last forever! —
as long as you sleep in my sight.
Sappho, fragment 102 (Lobel-Page 102 / Voigt 102)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mother, how can I weave,
so overwhelmed by love?
Sappho, fragment 147 (Lobel-Page 147 / *** 30)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Someone, somewhere
will remember us,
I swear!
'From Dio Chrysostom, who, writing about A.D.100, remarks that this is said 'with perfect beauty.''―Edwin Marion ***
Sappho, fragment 10
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I lust!
I crave!
**** me!
Sappho, fragment 11 (*** 109)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You inflame me!
Sappho, fragment 36 (Lobel-Page 36 / *** 24 & 25)
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 discern your will,
I burn still.
According to Edwin Marion ***, this fragment is from the Etymologicum Magnum.
Sappho, fragment 155
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A short revealing frock?
It's just my luck
your lips were made to mock!
Pollux wrote: 'Sappho used the word beudos for a woman's dress, a kimbericon, a kind of short transparent frock.'
Sappho, fragment 156
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
She keeps her scents
in a dressing-case.
And her sense?
In some undiscoverable place.
Phrynichus wrote: 'Sappho calls a woman's dressing-case, where she keeps her scents and such things, grute.'
Sappho, fragment 47 (Lobel-Page 47 / Voigt 47)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
The poem above is my favorite Sappho epigram. The metaphor of Eros (****** desire) harrowing mountain slopes, leveling oaks and leaving them desolate, is really something―truly powerful and evocative. According to Edwin Marion ***, this Sapphic epigram was 'Quoted by Maximus Tyrius about 150 B.C. He speaks of Socrates exciting Phaedus to madness, when he speaks of love.'
Sappho, fragment 130 (Lobel-Page 130 / Voigt 130)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros, the limb-shatterer,
rattles me,
an irresistible
constrictor.
Sappho, unnumbered fragment
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What cannot be swept
aside
must be wept.
Sappho, fragment 138 (Lobel-Page 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 (Incertum 25, *** 36)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I flutter
after you
like a chick after its mother...
From the 'Etymologicum Magnum' according to Edwin Marion ***.
In the following poem Sappho asks Aphrodite to "persuade" someone to fall in love with her. The poem strikes me as a sort of love charm or enchantment…
Hymn to Aphrodite (Lobel-Page 1)
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with such vigor!
But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers, as you did so graciously before;
O, come Divine One, descend once more
from heaven's golden dominions!
Then with your chariot yoked to love's
white consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you came gliding from heaven's shining heights,
to this dark gutter.
Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.
Asking me what I sought in my bewildered desire.
Asking, 'Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion
summon here? '
'Although today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, soon she shall give them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly! '
Come to me now, O most Holy Aphrodite!
Free me now from my heavy heartache and anguish!
Graciously grant me all I request!
Be once again my ally and protector!
'Hymn to Aphrodite' is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his 'On Literary Composition, ' published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, 'Hymn to Aphrodite' may have been composed for performance within the cult. However, we have few verifiable details about the 'real' Sappho, and much conjecture based on fragments of her poetry and what other people said about her, in many cases centuries after her death. We do know, however, that she was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called 'the Tenth Muse' and the other nine were goddesses. Here is another translation of the same poem...
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Rainbow-appareled, immortal-throned Aphrodite,
daughter of Zeus, wile-weaver, I beseech you: Hail!
Spare me your reproaches and chastisements.
Do not punish, dire Lady, my penitent soul!
But come now, descend, favor me with your presence.
Please hear my voice now beseeching, however unclear or afar,
your own dear voice, which is Olympus's essence —
golden, wherever you are...
Begging you to harness your sun-chariot's chargers —
those swift doves now winging you above the black earth,
till their white pinions whirring bring you down to me from heaven
through earth's middle air...
Suddenly they arrived, and you, O my Blessed One,
smiling with your immortal countenance,
asked what hurt me, and for what reason
I cried out...
And what did I want to happen most
in my crazed heart? 'Whom then shall Persuasion
bring to you, my dearest? Who,
Sappho, hurts you? "
"For if she flees, soon will she follow;
and if she does not accept gifts, soon she will give them;
and if she does not love, soon she will love
despite herself! '
Come to me now, relieve my harsh worries,
free me heart from its anguish,
and once again be
my battle-ally!
Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No droning bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Neither the honey
nor the bee
for me!
Sappho, fragment 52
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 2 (Lobel-Page 2 / Voigt 2)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, Cypris, from Crete
to meet me at this holy temple
where a lovely grove of apple awaits our presence
bowering altars
fuming with frankincense.
Here brisk waters babble beneath apple branches,
the grounds are overshadowed by roses,
and through the flickering leaves
enchantments shimmer.
Here the horses will nibble flowers
as we gorge on apples
and the breezes blow
honey-sweet with nectar ...
Here, Cypris, we will gather up garlands,
pour the nectar gracefully into golden cups
and with gladness
commence our festivities.
Sappho, fragment 58 (Lobel-Page 58)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virgins, be zealous for the violet-scented Muses' lovely gifts
and those of the melodious lyre ...
but my once-supple skin sags now;
my arthritic bones creak;
my ravenblack hair's turned white;
my lighthearted heart's grown heavy;
my knees buckle;
my feet, once fleet as fawns, fail the dance.
I often bemoan my fate ... but what's the use?
Not to grow old is, of course, not an option.
I am reminded of Tithonus, adored by Dawn with her arms full of roses,
who, overwhelmed by love, carried him off beyond death's dark dominion.
Handsome for a day, but soon withered with age,
he became an object of pity to his ageless wife.
Sappho, fragment 132 (Lobel-Page 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 ******.
2.
I have a lovely daughter
with a face like the fairest flowers,
my beloved Cleis …
It bears noting that Sappho mentions her daughter and brothers, but not her husband. We do not know if this means she was unmarried, because so many of her verses have been lost.
Sappho, fragment 131 (Lobel-Page 131)
loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1.
You reject me, Attis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andromeda ...
2.
Attis, you forsake me
and flit off to Andromeda ...
Sappho, fragment 140 (Lobel-Page 140)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
He is dying, Cytherea, the delicate Adonis.
What shall we lovers do?
Rip off your clothes, bare your ******* and abuse them!
Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May the gods prolong the night
—yes, let it last forever!—
as long as you sleep in my sight.
... a sweet-voiced maiden ...
—Sappho, fragment 153, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have the most childlike heart ...
—Sappho, fragment 120, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There was no dance,
no sacred dalliance,
from which we were absent.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s ecstatic brilliance.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s splendor.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You anointed yourself
with most exquisite perfume.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Awed by the moon’s splendor,
stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
—Sappho, fragment 34, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 138, loose translations/interpretations 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’ indulgence
Those I most charm
do me the most harm.
—Sappho, fragment 12, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Those I charm the most
do me the most harm.
—Sappho, fragment 12, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Midnight.
The hours drone on
as I moan here, alone.
—Sappho, fragment 52, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once again I dive into this fathomless ocean,
intoxicated by lust.
—Sappho, after Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Did this epigram perhaps inspire the legend that Sappho leapt into the sea to her doom, over her despair for her love for the ferryman Phaon? See the following poem ...
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.
In Menander's play The Leukadia he refers to a legend that Sappho flung herself from the White Rock of Leukas in pursuit of Phaon. We owe the preservation of those verses to Strabo, who cited them. Phaon appears in works by Ovid, Lucian and Aelian. He is also mentioned by Plautus in Miles Gloriosus as being one of only two men in the whole world, who "ever had the luck to be so passionately loved by a woman."
Sappho, fragment 24, loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1a.
Dear, don't you remember how, in days long gone,
we did such things, being young?
1b.
Dear, don't you remember, in days long gone,
how we did such things, being young?
2.
Don't you remember, in days bygone,
how we did such things, being young?
3.
Remember? In our youth
we too did such reckless things.
Sappho, fragment 154, loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1.
The moon rose and we women
thronged it like an altar.
2.
Maidens throng
at the altar of Love
all night long.
Even as their hearts froze,
their feathers molted.
—Sappho, fragment 42, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your voice beguiles me.
Your laughter lifts my heart’s wings.
If I listen to you, even for a moment, I am left speechless.
—Sappho, fragment 31, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 57
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
That country ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
1b.
That country ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art
is hiking her dress
to reveal her ankles' nakedness!
2.
That hayseed ****
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
3.
That rustic girl bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking the hem of her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
Sappho Translations by Michael R. Burch
These are Michael R. Burch's modern English translations of the immortal Sappho of ******, 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 ****
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** 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 **** 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 / *** 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 ******.
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 ***.
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 ******* 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 ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
1b.
That country ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art
is hiking her dress
to reveal her ankles' nakedness!
2.
That hayseed ****
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** 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 **** 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 *******.
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
You came and did well to come
because I desired you. You made
love blaze in my breast, thus I bless you …
but not the endless hours when you're gone.
Sappho, fragment 153
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They call me the sweet-voiced girl, parthenon aduphonon.
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You anointed yourself
with the most exquisite perfume.
Sappho, fragment 42
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
As their hearts froze,
their feathers molted.
2.
As their hearts grew chill
their wings grew still.
3.
Their hearts quieted,
they alighted.
Sappho, fragment 134
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Selene came to Endymion in the cave,
made love to him as he slept,
then crept away before the sun could prove
its light and warmth the more adept.
Sappho, fragment 47
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?
Sappho, fragment 52
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With my two small arms, how can I
think to encircle the sky?
Sappho, fragment 137
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gold does not rust,
yet my son becomes dust?
Sappho, fragment 48
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You did well to come and I yearned for you.
Though I burned with desire, you cooled my fevered mind.
Mere air,
my words' fare,
but intoxicating to hear.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 9
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mere breath,
words I command
are nevertheless immortal.
Sappho, fragment 118
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sing, my sacred tortoiseshell lyre;
come, let my words
accompany your voice.
My Religion
attributed to Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
I discovered the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
1b.
I found the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
1c.
I sought the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
2a.
My religion consists of your body's curves and crevasses.
2b.
My religion became your body's curves and crevasses.
2c.
I discovered my religion in your body's curves and crevasses.
Sappho, fragment 37
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Pain
drains
me
to
the
last
drop
.
2.
Pain drains me;
may thunderstorms and lightning
strike my condemners.
Sappho, fragment 147
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Someone, somewhere
will remember us,
I swear!
Sappho, fragment 146
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
No droning bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
1b.
No buzzing bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
2.
Neither the honey
nor the bee
for me!
Sappho, fragment 168b
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
Midnight.
The hours drone on
as I moan here, alone.
1b.
Midnight.
The hours drone.
I moan,
alone.
2a.
The moon has long since set;
the Pleiades are gone;
now half the night is spent
yet here I lie—alone.
2b.
The moon has long since set;
the Pleiades are gone;
now half the night is spent
yet here I sleep, alone.
Sappho, fragment 119
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
We brought the urn aboard the barge, inscribed:
This is the dust of Timas,
whom Persephone received, *****, into her bedchamber,
for whom her fellowmaidens in mourning
slashed their soft curls with sharpened blades.
2.
This is the dust of Timas, dead, *****,
whom Persephone took to her dark bed,
for whom her fellowmaidens, mourning,
hacked off their locks like sheep at a shearing.
Sappho, fragment 21
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A purple scarf shadowed your face—
a cherished gift from Timas,
sent from Phocaea.
Sappho, fragment 290
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Dancing rhythmically, with light feet,
the Cretan women thronged the altar,
trampling circles in the fine soft flowering grass.
2.
Dancing rhythmically, with light feet,
to the pulsating beat,
Cretan
women thronged the altar in their mass,
trampling circles in the fine soft flowering grass.
Sappho, fragment 128
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come join us, tender Graces
and lovely-haired Muses,
in our ecstatic dances!
Sappho, fragment 93
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Our playmates are pink-ankled Graces
and golden Aphrodite!
Sappho, fragment 53
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, rosy-armed Graces,
Zeus's daughters,
in your perfection!
Sappho, fragment 111
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Raise the rafters, carpenters.
Hoist high the roof-beams!
***** Hymenaeus!
Here comes the bridegroom,
statuesque as Ares!
***** Hymenaeus!
Sappho, fragment 112
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lucky bridegroom,
your wedding day has finally arrived
and your alluring bride is your heart’s desire!
Sappho, fragment 32 (Barnard 32)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virginity!
Alas my lost Virginity!
Sappho, fragment 57
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Heavy-lidded Slumber, child of Night, claimed them.
Sappho, fragment 57a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Aphrodite's handmaid, resplendent in gold,
Hecate, Queen of Darkness untold!
Sappho, fragment 63
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Last night, Cyprian,
you and I clashed (s)words
in my dreams.
Sappho, fragment 48
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now I know why Eros,
of all the gods’ offspring,
is most blessed.
Sappho, fragment 68
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That was then, this is now!
In those days my maidenhead was in full bloom,
then you …
Sappho, fragment 135
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Golden Persuasion, Aphrodite's daughter,
how you deceive mortals!
Sappho, fragment 88
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why, Procne,
delicate swallow, daughter of Pandīon,
why do you weary me with tales of woe?
Sappho, fragment 287
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I once instructed Hero of Gyara, the fleetfooted.
Sappho, fragment 15
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cypris, may she find you a harsh mistress,
Doricha, the ****!
Put an end to her bragging,
nor let her boast that she fooled him twice,
my brother's embezzler!
Doricha was a courtesan who allegedly caused Sappho's brother Charaxus to lose considerable wealth. Doricha was also known by the pseudonym Rhodopis, which means "rosy-cheeked."
Sappho, fragment 7
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Doricha commands arrogantly,
like young men.
Sappho, fragment 148
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A vagabond friendship,
a public blessing …
repent Rhodopis!
Sappho, fragment 138
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The beautiful courtesan Rhodopis,
lies here entombed, more fair
than when she walked with white lilies
plaited in her dark hair,
but now she's as withered as they:
whose dust is more gray?
Sappho, fragment 5
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Revered Nereids, divine sea-daughters, please grant that my brother may return unharmed,
his heart's desires all fulfilled,
and may he show his sister more honor than in his indifferent past …
But you, O august Kypris, please keep him from unbearable dooms!
Sappho, fragment 148
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wealth unaccompanied by Character
is a dangerous houseguest,
but together they invite happiness.
Sappho, fragment 201
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Gold is indestructible.
2.
Gold is God's indestructible Child:
the One neither moth nor worm devours.
Sappho, fragment 66
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ares bragged he'd drag forge-master Hephaestus off by sheer force!
Sappho, fragment 120
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Over fisherman Pelagon's grave his father Meniscus left creel and oar, relics of a luckless life.
Sappho, fragment 143
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How golden broom brightens riverbanks!
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You remind me of a little girl
I once assisted picking flowers.
Sappho, fragment 95
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lord Hermes, you guide spirits to their final destination.
Now guide me, for I am despondent and wish only to die,
to see the lotus-lined shores of Acheron.
Sappho, fragment 150
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1
Cleis, daughter, don't cry!
Mourning is unbecoming a poet's household.
2.
For those who serve the Muses,
mourning is unbecoming.
Sappho, fragment 56
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Will any woman
born under the sun
ever match your art?
2.
No woman
born under the sun
will ever have your wisdom.
Sappho, fragment 135
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Erinna, why does darkwinged Procne, King Pandion's daughter, beckon?
Sappho, fragment 17
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hear me, Queen Hera, as your delightful festival nears,
you to whom the sons of Atreus performed vows,
those dazzling kings who did such amazing things,
first at Troy, then later at sea.
And yet, sailing the sea-road to our island,
those mighty kings still could not attain it
until they had called on you and Zeus,
the god of seekers and beseechers,
and Dionysus, alluring son of Semele.
Now we too perform the ancient rites,
O most holy and most beautiful Goddess,
we throngs of virgins, young women and wives.
Please allow us to arrive safely at the shrine.
Sappho, fragment 86
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In this quiet moment,
I beg a boon from Zeus,
the bearer of the aegis,
even as I implore, O Aphrodite,
the tenderness of your benevolent heart;
hear my prayer, as once before,
when, departing Cyprus,
you heeded my earnest cry
and chose not to be harsh.
Sappho, fragment 44a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Golden-haired Phoebus was sired on Leto by the high-soaring son of Kronos. His sister, Artemis, swore a great oath to Zeus: “By your crown, I shall always be an ***** ****** hunting on remote mountaintops. Assent!” The father of the Blessed Ones nodded his consent. Now gods and mortals call her The ****** Huntress and Eros, limb-loosener, dare never approach her!
Sappho, fragment 168c
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gaia, rainbow-crowned, garbs herself in myriad hues.
Sappho, fragment 101a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Undaunted by summer ablaze
the cicada emits its high, shrill song.
Sappho, fragment 103
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sing of the bride with shapely feet, fair as the violet-robed daughter of Zeus, Artemis. Let the violet-robed bride calm her bridegroom's anger. Come holy Graces and Pierian Muses, whose sweet-toned songs soothe the overwrought heart. Let the annoyed bridegroom complain to his companions as she redoes her hair, fiddles with her lyre, and tries on dawn-golden sandals!
Sappho, fragment 103b
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bed the bride with the beautiful feet,
or bring her to me!
Sappho, fragment 141
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hermes mixed ambrosia in a bowl,
then poured it for the gods
who, having lifted their cups, made libations,
then in one voice blessed the bridegroom.
Sappho, fragment 27
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because you were once young and loved to dance and sing, come, think favorably of us and be gracious. You know we're off to a wedding, so quickly as possible please send the virgins away. And may the gods bless us here since there's no path yet for men to reach great Olympus.
Sappho, fragment 115
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dear groom,
to whom
may I compare you?
To a slender sapling.
Sappho, fragment 103c
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
… remembering delightful Arheanassa,
her laughter lovely as any Lorelei's …
2.
… remembering delightful Arheanassa,
her laughter lovely as any water nymph's …
Sappho, fragment 76
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fulfill?
At my age I'm just hanging on!
Sappho, fragment 45
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
As long as you desire, I do!
2.
As long as you command, I obey!
3.
As long as you will, I submit.
4.
As long as you want me, I'm yours.
Sappho, fragment 50
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A handsome man pleases the eyes
but a good man pleases.
Sappho, fragment 41
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
For you, O my Beautiful Ones,
my mind is unalterable.
Sappho, fragment 18
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Everyone extols my storytelling:
"better than any man's!"
Sappho, fragment 88
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Though you prefer not to get carried away
and may imagine someone sweeter to behold,
someone who may yet say "Yes!"
still I will love you as long as there's breath in me,
swallowing the bitter,
ever the faithful lover.
Sappho, fragment 158
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When anger floods your chest,
best to still a reckless tongue.
Sappho, fragment 129
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They say Sappho's sweetest utterance
Was the hymeneal hymn of Love.
Sappho, fragment 153
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Queen Dawn,
solemn Dawn,
come!
Sappho, fragment 26
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why, Mistress Aphrodite,
*******! Why do you
fill me with such lust? Why
inflict such suffering on me?
When I prayed to you in the past,
you never treated me with such indifference!
Sappho, fragment 132
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love, the child of Aphrodite and heaven;
Sappho, of earth;
Who had the more divine birth?
In the following 101 short translations the fragment numbers are Lobel-Page unless otherwise noted. All translations are by Michael R. Burch and should be so credited if they are used in any way, shape or form.
I now, with all my heart, fully, as much as it is possible for me, blossom to see your lovely face, touching. (4)
Let's go ogle golden-armed Lady Dawn before our doom. (6b)
It's impossible to be happy and human; yet I still pray a share for myself, of happiness. (16a)
Even this pressed for time, tonight we can raise a toast to the stars. (18a)
Put on your finery and with any luck we'll make harbor — back to dry land, back to the black earth. (20)
Though I'm skilled in lament and trembling with wrinkle-skinned age, yet there is the chase. Strum your lyre and sing to us of violet-robed loveseekers, Abanthis! (21)
Left to our own devices, two pretty young things, we found our way to the bedroom. (25)
Menelaus, son of Atreus, lies returned to the black earth, finally beyond agony. (INCERT. 27)
Colorful Lydian sandals covered her feet. So beautiful! (39)
At your altar, unforgiving Mistress, I will sacrifice a white goat and offer libations. (40)
I and Archeanassa, Gorgo's wife … (42a)
Beauty brings peace when my mind is troubled. Come sit beside me, friends, for day draws nigh. (43)
Once fleeing, hounded and bitten by gods, you gave me a name, put fame in my mouth. (58a)
O darkwinged dream you soar on night's drafts to sleep with the gods, and I am in agony to sense such distant power for I expect to share nothing with the blessed. I would rather not be left with mere trinkets, yet may I have them all! (63)
Andromeda may have abandoned you, but I, Aphrodite, Queen of Cyprus, still love you, Sappho, as the sun illuminates everything, everywhere; even by the dewy banks of Acheron, I am with you. (65)
I come to join the harmonies of a joyful chorus: sweet-toned, clear-voiced. (70)
Aphrodite, goddess of sweet-sung desires, sits on her throne of blooms in the beautiful dew. (73)
Aphrodite, sweet-talking goddess of love, sits on her throne of blooms in the beautiful dew. (73)
Joy? What joy? You gave me nothing: though beautiful, always unsmiling. (77)
She was all hair, otherwise nothing. (80)
Mnasidika is more curvaceous than even our soft Gyrinno. (82a)
Wait here once again, because … I come! (84)
You enrich me, like listening to an old man. (85)
We, having left rumors behind, departed people in a frenzy, tearing out their hair. (87)
Atthis, so charming in the bedroom, but otherwise hateful, proud and aloof, her teeth clicking like castanets. (87a)
Though you caused my soul and my heart sorrow, here's a small truth: I will always say "I love you" with a true heart. (88a)
Persuasion, Aphrodite's fledgling, with her broad, arrogant wings, sped me to Gyrinno, then to graceful Atthis. (90)
Irana, you're the biggest pain I've ever met! (91)
… saffron-dyed Phrygian purple robes and rugs … (92)
Later Polyanaktidis takes the lyre, strums the chords till they vibrate softly, and yet the sound pierces bones and melts the marrow. (99a)
Sons of Zeus, come to your rites from wooded Gryneia, here to our oracle! Then let the ritual songs begin! (99b)
Expensive gifts, these scented purple headscarves Mnasis sent us from Phokaia. (101)
Gorgo took her many insignificant verses to Cyprus, to be admired by many. (103a)
******'s singers reign supreme! (106)
Lesbian singers out-sing all others. (106)
… a most beautiful, graceful girl … (108)
The doorkeep’s feet are seven fathoms long, fill five oxhides, and it took ten cobblers to strap his sandals! (110)
Groom, to whom can I fairly compare you? To a slender sapling. (115)
Rejoice, most honored bride and groom! Rejoice! (116)
May the bride rejoice and her groom rejoice. Rejoice! (117)
The newlyweds appeared at the polished entryway. (117a)
Hesperus, star of the evening! *****, god of marriage! Adonis-like groom! (117b)
She stunned us in / wet linen. (119)
I'm talented, it's true, / but you / Calliope, remain unrivaled. (124)
I now wear garlands, who once wove them. (125)
Come again, Muses, leaving the golden heavens. (126)
Andromeda had a fine retort: "Sappho, why did Aphrodite so favor you? Did you ****** her?" (133)
We once spoke in a dream, Cyprian! (134)
Nightingale, enticing-songed harbinger of spring. Sing! (136)
The gods alone are above tears. (139)
They've all had their fill of Gorgo. (144)
Nightlong celebration wearies their eyes, then closes them. (149)
Our eyes embrace the black sleep of night. (151)
… many colors mingled … (152)
Women thronged the altar at moonrise. (154)
A hearty "Hello!" to the daughter of Polyanax. (155)
Lady Dawn, arise, / flood night's skies / with cerise. (157)
Imperial Aphrodite said: "You and Eros are my vassals. (159)
Imperial Aphrodite! bridegrooms bow down to Her! kings are Her bodyguards and squires. (161)
You "see" me? With whose eyes? (162)
Oh, my dearest darling, never depart/ or you'll wreck my heart! (163)
Leto summons her son, the Sun. (164)
To himself he seems godly, to us a boor. (165)
Leda, they said, once discovered a hidden, hyacinth-blue egg. (166)
Whiter than eggs, your unsunned *******. (167)
She's fonder of children than cradlerobber Gello. (168a)
We ran like fawns from the symposium: me, Cleis and reckless Gongyla. (168d)
Destiny is from the Muses, / and thus I was destined to leave him / to become / Sappho, Mistress of Song. (168e,f)
Unknowing of evil, I was pure innocence. (171)
Eros, pain-inducer, desist! (172)
She grew like a trellis vine. (173)
Mighty Zeus, World-Holder! (180)
Little is learned with an easy passage, much by a hard. (181)
May I go, or must you? (182)
Eros gusting blew my heart to pieces. (183)
I live in danger of too much love. (184)
Men fell in love with my honeyed voice, but I fell for girls. (185)
Sappho: Let me be one of the Muses when I die! Aphrodite: Granted! (187)
Eros, story-weaver, never a happy ending? (188)
I was very wise, except in the ways of love. (190)
That girl grew curvy and curly, like celery. (191)
We raised golden goblets inlaid with ivory and toasted the stars. (192)
I once instructed Hero of Gyara, the fleetfooted runner. (287)
We collapsed, drenched in sweat on both sides. (288)
Dawn spilled down the high mountains. (289)
Trading rosy health for less heartache, I fled my girlish youth. (291)
Such a boy once drove his chariot to Thebes, while Malis spun his fate on her spindle. (292, Malis was a Lydian war goddess)
"Thorneater?" That doesn't offend irongutted Arcadians! (293)
Hecate, Aphrodite's golden-armored ally, Queen of the Underworld. (294)
Learn from Admetus to love the courageous and avoid cowards, who seldom show gratitude. (296)
The black earth absorbed grief-stricken tears along with the interred sons of Atreus. (297)
Nightingale, sing your song and I'll sing along. (298)
Aphrodite, my mind is troubled. I'm still your servant, but Atthis remains a headstrong child. (299)
As when before your light streamed like honey but I was in darkness still. (300)
She is lovely as before, but where now is Hope? (300a)
Aphrodite, do you not love the windlike dances / of beautiful, apple-cheeked Abanthis? (301)
Cyprian, how splendid your altar ablaze in blue, silver and gold. Yet you all the more amazing! (302)
The bride lovely as dawn's unfolding sky, the groom nearly as handsome. (303)
Cyprian, here we come, singing songs and offering libations! (304)
A graceful girl, shy as a fawn and as flighty. (305)
Glorious passions! Passions uproarious! (306)
Sappho, fragment 306a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
O most revered Queen of Heaven,
Golden Aphrodite!
Blessed above all mortal women,
and blessed by them …
Goddess, come!
Aphrodite, most beautiful,
enter with your train of elegant attendants!
Arise now for me,
honeysweet Aphrodite!
Meet me with greetings holy and divine!
Be mine!
What ecstasies, O my Queen,
shall we revel in at midnight?
THE LONGER POEMS OF SAPPHO
Unfortunately, the only completely intact poem left by Sappho is her "Ode to Aphrodite" or "Hymn to Aphrodite" (an interesting synchronicity since Sappho is best known as a love poet and Aphrodite was the ancient Greek goddess of love). However, "That man is peer of the gods" and the first poem below, variously titled “The Anactoria Poem,” “Helen’s Eidolon” and “Some People Say …” are largely intact. Was Sappho the author of the world's first "make love, not war" poem?
"Some Say"
Sappho, fragment 16
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warriors on rearing chargers,
columns of infantry,
fleets of warships:
some call these the dark earth's redeeming visions.
But I say—
the one I desire.
Nor am I unique
because she who so vastly surpassed all other mortals in beauty
—Helen—
seduced by Aphrodite, led astray by desire,
departed for distant Troy,
abandoning her celebrated husband,
deserting her parents and child!
Her story reminds me of Anactoria,
who has also departed,
and whose lively dancing and lovely face
I would rather see than all Lydia's horsemen, war-chariots
and columns of infantry parading in flashing armor.
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To the brightness of Love
not destroying the sight—
sweet, warm noonday sun
lightening things dun:
whence comes the Night?
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How can I compete with that ****** man
who fancies himself one of the gods,
impressing you with his "eloquence" …
when just the thought of basking in your radiant presence,
of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter,
sets my heart hammering at my breast?
Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you,
I'm left speechless, tongue-tied,
and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin.
Then my vision dims with tears,
my ears ring,
I sweat profusely,
and every muscle twitches or trembles.
When the blood finally settles,
I'm paler and wetter than the limpest grass.
Then, in my exhausted madness,
I'm as dull as the dead.
And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you …
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To me that boy seems
blessed by the gods
because he sits beside you,
basking in your brilliant presence.
My heart races at the sound of your voice!
Your laughter?—bright water, dislodging pebbles
in a chaotic vortex. I can't catch my breath!
My heart bucks in my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't speak.
My ******* glow with intense heat;
desire's blush-inducing fires redden my flesh.
My ears seem hollow; they ring emptily.
My tongue is broken and cleaves to its roof.
I sweat profusely. I shiver.
Suddenly, I grow pale
and feel only a second short of dying.
And yet I must endure, somehow,
despite my poverty.
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… at the sight of you,
words fail me …
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your voice beguiles me.
Your laughter lifts my heart's wings.
If I listen to you, even for a moment, I am left stunned, speechless.
The following are Sappho's poems for Atthis aka Attis aka Athis …
Sappho, fragment 49
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I loved you, Atthis, long ago …
even when you seemed a graceless child.
2.
I fell in love with you, Atthis, long ago …
You seemed immature to me then, and not all that graceful.
3.
I loved you, little monkey-faced Atthis, long ago …
when you still seemed a graceless child.
4.
I loved you Atthis, long ago,
when my girlhood was a heyday of flowers
and you seemed but an awkward adolescent.
Sappho, fragment 131
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
You desert me, Atthis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andromeda …
2.
Atthis, you forsake me
and flit off to Andromeda …
Ode to Anactoria or Ode to Atthis or Ode to Gongyla
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So my Atthis has not returned
and thus, let the truth be said,
I wish I were dead …
"Honestly, I just want to die!"
Atthis sighed,
shedding heartfelt tears,
inconsolably sad
when she
left me.
"How deeply we have loved,
we two,
Sappho!
Oh,
I really don't want to go!"
I answered her tenderly,
"Go as you must
and be happy,
trust-
ing your remembrance of me,
for you know how much
I loved you.
And if you begin to forget,
please try to recall
all
the heavenly emotions we felt
as with many wreathes of violets,
roses and crocuses
you sat beside me
adorning your delicate neck.
Once garlands had been fashioned of many woven flowers,
with much expensive myrrh
we anointed our bodies, like royalty
on soft couches,
then my tender caresses
fulfilled your desire …"
Sappho, fragment 96
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Our beloved Anactoria dwells in distant Sardis, but her thoughts often return to the life we shared together here, when she saw you as a goddess incarnate, robed in splendor, and loved to hear you singing her praises. Now she surpasses all Sardinian women, as, rising at sunset the rosy-fingered moon outshines the surrounding stars, illuminating salt seas and flowering meadows alike. Thus the delicate dew sparkles, the rose revives, and the tender chervil and sweetclover blossom. Now oftentimes when our beloved wanders aimlessly, she is reminded of gentle Atthis; then her heart assaults her tender breast with painful pangs and she cries aloud for us to console her. Truly, we understand the distress she feels, because Night, the many-eared, calls to us from across the dividing sea. But to go there is not easy, nor to rival a goddess in her loveliness.
The following translation is based on an imaginative translation by Willis Barnstone. The source fragment has major gaps.
Sappho, fragment 96
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How can mortal women rival the goddesses in beauty? But you may have come closest of all, or second to only Helen! With much love for you Aphrodite poured nectar from a gold decanter and with gentle hands Persuasion bade you drink. Now at the Geraistos shrine, of all the women dear to me, none compares to you.
Sappho, fragment 92
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
“Sappho, if you don’t leave your room,
I swear I’ll never love you again!
Get out of bed, rise and shine on us,
take off your Chian nightdress,
then, like a lily floating in a pond,
enter your bath. Cleis will bring you
a violet frock and lovely saffron blouse
from your clothes-chest. Then we’ll adorn
you with a bright purple mantle and crown
your hair with flowers. So come, darling,
with your maddening beauty,
while Praxinoa roasts nuts for our breakfast.
The gods have been good to us,
for today we’re heading at last to Mytilene
with you, Sappho, the loveliest of women,
like a mother among daughters.” Dearest
Atthis, those were fine words,
but now you forget everything!
Sappho, fragment 98
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
My mother said that in her youth
a purple ribband
was considered an excellent adornment,
but we were dark
and for blondes with hair brighter than torches
it was better to braid garlands of fresh flowers.
2.
My mother said that in her youth
to bind one's hair in back,
gathered together by a purple plaited circlet,
was considered an excellent adornment,
but for blondes with hair brighter than torches
it was better to braid garlands of fresh flowers,
or more recently, to buy colorful headbands from Sardis
and other Ionian cities.
But for you, my dearest Cleis,
I have no iridescent headband
to match your hair's vitality!
Sappho, fragment 41
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
For you, fair maidens, my mind does not equivocate.
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with such vigor!
But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers, as you did so graciously before;
O, come Divine One, descend once more
from heaven's golden dominions!
Then, with your chariot yoked to love's
white consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you came gliding from heaven's shining heights,
to this dark gutter.
Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.
Asking me what I sought in my bewildered desire.
Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion
summon here?"
"Although today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, soon she shall give them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly!"
Come to me now, O most Holy Aphrodite!
Free me now from my heavy heartache and anguish!
Graciously grant me all I request!
Be once again my ally and protector!
"Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety.
Sappho, fragment 2
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, Cypris, from Crete
to meet me at this holy temple
where a lovely grove of apples awaits our presence
bowering altars
fuming with frankincense.
Here brisk waters babble beneath apple branches,
the grounds are overshadowed by roses,
and through their trembling leaves
deep sleep descends.
Here the horses will nibble flowers
as we gorge on apples
and the breezes blow
honey-sweet with nectar…
Here, Cypris, we will gather up garlands,
pour the nectar gratefully into golden cups
and with gladness
commence our festivities.
The Brothers Poem
by Sappho
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… but you’re always prattling about Kharaxos
returning with his ship's hold full. As for that,
Zeus and the gods alone know, so why indulge
idle fantasies?
Rather release me, since I am commending
numerous prayers to mighty Queen Hera,
asking that his undamaged ship might safely return
Kharaxos to us.
Then we will have serenity. As for
everything else, leave it to the gods
because calm seas often follow
sudden squalls
and those whose fortunes the gods transform
from unmitigated disaster into joy
have received a greater blessing
than prosperity.
Furthermore, if Larikhos raises his head
from this massive depression, we shall
see him become a man, lift ours and
stand together.
Sappho, fragment 58
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virgins, be zealous for the violet-scented Muses' lovely gifts
and those of melodious lyre …
but my once-supple skin sags now;
my arthritic bones creak;
my ravenblack hair's turned white;
my lighthearted heart's grown heavy;
my knees buckle;
my feet, once fleet as fawns, fail the dance.
I often bemoan my fate … but what's the use?
Not to grow old is, of course, not an option.
I am reminded of Tithonus, adored by Dawn with her arms full of roses,
who, overwhelmed by love, carried him off beyond death's dark dominion.
Handsome for a day, but soon withered with age,
he became an object of pity to his ageless wife.
And yet I still love life's finer things and have been granted brilliance, abundance and beauty.
And now, in closing, these are poems dedicated to the Divine Sappho:
Sappho's Rose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The rose is—
the ornament of the earth,
the glory of nature,
the archetype of the flowers,
the blush of the meadows,
a lightning flash of beauty.
Sappho’s Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
Hushed yet melodic, the hills and the valleys
sleep unaware of the nightingale's call
as the dew-laden lilies lie
listening,
glistening …
this is their night, the first night of fall.
Son, tonight, a woman awaits you;
she is more vibrant, more lovely than spring.
She'll meet you in moonlight,
soft and warm,
all alone …
then you'll know why the nightingale sings.
Just yesterday the stars were afire;
then how desire flashed through my veins!
But now I am older;
night has come,
I’m alone …
for you I will sing as the nightingale sings.
Keywords/Tags: Sappho, ******, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, love, ***, desire, passion, lust
Most of Sappho's poems are fragments but the first poem below, variously titled "The Anactoria Poem, " "Helen's Eidolon" and "Some People Say" is largely intact. Was Sappho the author of the world's first 'make love, not war' poem?
Some People Say
Sappho, fragment 16 (Lobel-Page 16 / Voigt 16)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warriors on rearing chargers,
columns of infantry,
fleets of warships:
some call these the dark earth's redeeming visions.
But I say—
the one I desire.
Nor am I unique,
since she who so vastly surpassed all mortals in beauty
—Helen—
seduced by Aphrodite, led astray by desire,
departed for distant Troy,
abandoned her celebrated husband,
turned her back on her parents and child!
Her story reminds me of Anactoria,
who has also departed,
and whose lively dancing and lovely face
I would rather see than all the horsemen and war-chariots of the Lydians,
or their columns of infantry parading in flashing armor.
Ode to Anactoria or Ode to Attis
Sappho, fragment 94 (Lobel-Page 94 / Voigt 94)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So my Attis has not returned
and thus, let the truth be said,
I wish I were dead...
'Honestly, I just want to die! '
Attis sighed,
shedding heartfelt tears,
inconsolably sad
when she
left me.
'How deeply we have loved,
we two,
Sappho!
Oh,
I really don't want to go! '
I answered her tenderly,
'Go as you must
and be happy,
trust-
ing your remembrance of me,
for you know how much
I loved you.
And if you begin to forget,
please try to recall
all
the heavenly emotions we felt
as with many wreathes of violets,
roses and crocuses
you sat beside me
adorning your delicate neck.
Once garlands had been fashioned of many woven flowers,
with much expensive myrrh
we anointed our bodies like royalty
on soft couches,
then my tender caresses
fulfilled your desire...'
Unfortunately, fragment 94 has several gaps and I have tried to imagine what Sappho might have been saying.
The following are Sappho's poems for Attis or Atthis...
Sappho, fragment 49 (Lobel-Page 49 / Voigt 49)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I loved you, Attis, long ago...
even when you seemed a graceless child.
2.
I fell in love with you, Attis, long ago...
You seemed immature to me then, and not all that graceful.
(Source: Hephaestion, Plutarch and others.)
Sappho, fragment 131 (Lobel-Page 131 / Voigt 130)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You reject me, Attis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andrómeda...
Sappho, fragment 96 (Lobel-Page 96.1-22 / Voigt 96 / Diehl 98)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Attis, our beloved, dwells in distant Sardis, but her thoughts often return here, to our island, and how we honored her like a goddess, and how she loved to hear us singing her praises. Now she surpasses all Sardinian women, as, after sunset the rosy-fingered moon outshines the surrounding stars, illuminating salt seas and meadows alike. Thus the dew sparkles, the rose revives, and the tender chervil and sweetclover blossom. Now oftentimes when our beloved goes wandering abroad, she is reminded of our gentle Attis; then her heart assaults her tender breast with its painful pangs and she cries aloud for us to console her. Truly, we understand all too well the distress she feels, because Night, the many-eared, calls to us from across the dividing sea. But to go there is not easy, nor to rival a goddess in her loveliness.
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How can I compete with that ****** man
who fancies himself one of the gods,
impressing you with his 'eloquence' …
when just the thought of sitting in your radiant presence,
of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter,
sets my heart hammering at my breast?
Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you,
I'm left speechless, tongue-tied,
and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin.
Then my vision dims with tears,
my ears ring,
I sweat profusely,
and every muscle in my body trembles.
When the blood finally settles,
I grow paler than summer grass,
till in my exhausted madness,
I'm as limp as the dead.
And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you...
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To me that boy seems
blessed by the gods
because he sits beside you,
basking in your brilliant presence.
My heart races at the sound of your voice!
Your laughter? ―bright water, dislodging pebbles
in a chaotic vortex. I can't catch my breath!
My heart bucks in my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't speak.
My ******* glow with intense heat;
desire's blush-inducing fires redden my flesh.
My ears seem hollow; they ring emptily.
My tongue is broken and cleaves to its roof.
I sweat profusely. I shiver.
Suddenly, I grow pale
and feel only a second short of dying.
And yet I must endure, somehow,
despite my poverty.
The following poems by Sappho may have been addressed to Attis or Anactoria, or written with them in mind…
Sappho, fragment 22 (Lobel-Page 22 / Diehl 33,36)
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 34 (Lobel-Page 34 / Voigt 34)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Awed by the Moon's splendor,
the stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
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, since Sappho associates Anactoria with Lydia in fragment 16.
Sappho, fragment 2 (Lobel-Page 2.1A)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Leaving your heavenly summit,
I submit
to the mountain,
then plummet.
Sappho associates her lovers with higher elevations: the moon, stars, mountain peaks.
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May the gods prolong the night
—yes, let it last forever! —
as long as you sleep in my sight.
Sappho, fragment 102 (Lobel-Page 102 / Voigt 102)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mother, how can I weave,
so overwhelmed by love?
Sappho, fragment 147 (Lobel-Page 147 / *** 30)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Someone, somewhere
will remember us,
I swear!
'From Dio Chrysostom, who, writing about A.D.100, remarks that this is said 'with perfect beauty.''―Edwin Marion ***
Sappho, fragment 10
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I lust!
I crave!
**** me!
Sappho, fragment 11 (*** 109)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You inflame me!
Sappho, fragment 36 (Lobel-Page 36 / *** 24 & 25)
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 discern your will,
I burn still.
According to Edwin Marion ***, this fragment is from the Etymologicum Magnum.
Sappho, fragment 155
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A short revealing frock?
It's just my luck
your lips were made to mock!
Pollux wrote: 'Sappho used the word beudos for a woman's dress, a kimbericon, a kind of short transparent frock.'
Sappho, fragment 156
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
She keeps her scents
in a dressing-case.
And her sense?
In some undiscoverable place.
Phrynichus wrote: 'Sappho calls a woman's dressing-case, where she keeps her scents and such things, grute.'
Sappho, fragment 47 (Lobel-Page 47 / Voigt 47)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
The poem above is my favorite Sappho epigram. The metaphor of Eros (****** desire) harrowing mountain slopes, leveling oaks and leaving them desolate, is really something―truly powerful and evocative. According to Edwin Marion ***, this Sapphic epigram was 'Quoted by Maximus Tyrius about 150 B.C. He speaks of Socrates exciting Phaedus to madness, when he speaks of love.'
Sappho, fragment 130 (Lobel-Page 130 / Voigt 130)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros, the limb-shatterer,
rattles me,
an irresistible
constrictor.
Sappho, unnumbered fragment
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What cannot be swept
aside
must be wept.
Sappho, fragment 138 (Lobel-Page 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 (Incertum 25, *** 36)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I flutter
after you
like a chick after its mother...
From the 'Etymologicum Magnum' according to Edwin Marion ***.
In the following poem Sappho asks Aphrodite to "persuade" someone to fall in love with her. The poem strikes me as a sort of love charm or enchantment…
Hymn to Aphrodite (Lobel-Page 1)
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with such vigor!
But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers, as you did so graciously before;
O, come Divine One, descend once more
from heaven's golden dominions!
Then with your chariot yoked to love's
white consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you came gliding from heaven's shining heights,
to this dark gutter.
Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.
Asking me what I sought in my bewildered desire.
Asking, 'Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion
summon here? '
'Although today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, soon she shall give them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly! '
Come to me now, O most Holy Aphrodite!
Free me now from my heavy heartache and anguish!
Graciously grant me all I request!
Be once again my ally and protector!
'Hymn to Aphrodite' is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his 'On Literary Composition, ' published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, 'Hymn to Aphrodite' may have been composed for performance within the cult. However, we have few verifiable details about the 'real' Sappho, and much conjecture based on fragments of her poetry and what other people said about her, in many cases centuries after her death. We do know, however, that she was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called 'the Tenth Muse' and the other nine were goddesses. Here is another translation of the same poem...
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Rainbow-appareled, immortal-throned Aphrodite,
daughter of Zeus, wile-weaver, I beseech you: Hail!
Spare me your reproaches and chastisements.
Do not punish, dire Lady, my penitent soul!
But come now, descend, favor me with your presence.
Please hear my voice now beseeching, however unclear or afar,
your own dear voice, which is Olympus's essence —
golden, wherever you are...
Begging you to harness your sun-chariot's chargers —
those swift doves now winging you above the black earth,
till their white pinions whirring bring you down to me from heaven
through earth's middle air...
Suddenly they arrived, and you, O my Blessed One,
smiling with your immortal countenance,
asked what hurt me, and for what reason
I cried out...
And what did I want to happen most
in my crazed heart? 'Whom then shall Persuasion
bring to you, my dearest? Who,
Sappho, hurts you? "
"For if she flees, soon will she follow;
and if she does not accept gifts, soon she will give them;
and if she does not love, soon she will love
despite herself! '
Come to me now, relieve my harsh worries,
free me heart from its anguish,
and once again be
my battle-ally!
Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No droning bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
Sappho, fragment 113
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Neither the honey
nor the bee
for me!
Sappho, fragment 52
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 2 (Lobel-Page 2 / Voigt 2)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, Cypris, from Crete
to meet me at this holy temple
where a lovely grove of apple awaits our presence
bowering altars
fuming with frankincense.
Here brisk waters babble beneath apple branches,
the grounds are overshadowed by roses,
and through the flickering leaves
enchantments shimmer.
Here the horses will nibble flowers
as we gorge on apples
and the breezes blow
honey-sweet with nectar ...
Here, Cypris, we will gather up garlands,
pour the nectar gracefully into golden cups
and with gladness
commence our festivities.
Sappho, fragment 58 (Lobel-Page 58)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virgins, be zealous for the violet-scented Muses' lovely gifts
and those of the melodious lyre ...
but my once-supple skin sags now;
my arthritic bones creak;
my ravenblack hair's turned white;
my lighthearted heart's grown heavy;
my knees buckle;
my feet, once fleet as fawns, fail the dance.
I often bemoan my fate ... but what's the use?
Not to grow old is, of course, not an option.
I am reminded of Tithonus, adored by Dawn with her arms full of roses,
who, overwhelmed by love, carried him off beyond death's dark dominion.
Handsome for a day, but soon withered with age,
he became an object of pity to his ageless wife.
Sappho, fragment 132 (Lobel-Page 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 ******.
2.
I have a lovely daughter
with a face like the fairest flowers,
my beloved Cleis …
It bears noting that Sappho mentions her daughter and brothers, but not her husband. We do not know if this means she was unmarried, because so many of her verses have been lost.
Sappho, fragment 131 (Lobel-Page 131)
loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1.
You reject me, Attis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andromeda ...
2.
Attis, you forsake me
and flit off to Andromeda ...
Sappho, fragment 140 (Lobel-Page 140)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
He is dying, Cytherea, the delicate Adonis.
What shall we lovers do?
Rip off your clothes, bare your ******* and abuse them!
Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May the gods prolong the night
—yes, let it last forever!—
as long as you sleep in my sight.
... a sweet-voiced maiden ...
—Sappho, fragment 153, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have the most childlike heart ...
—Sappho, fragment 120, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There was no dance,
no sacred dalliance,
from which we were absent.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s ecstatic brilliance.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s splendor.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You anointed yourself
with most exquisite perfume.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Awed by the moon’s splendor,
stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
—Sappho, fragment 34, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 138, loose translations/interpretations 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’ indulgence
Those I most charm
do me the most harm.
—Sappho, fragment 12, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Those I charm the most
do me the most harm.
—Sappho, fragment 12, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Midnight.
The hours drone on
as I moan here, alone.
—Sappho, fragment 52, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Once again I dive into this fathomless ocean,
intoxicated by lust.
—Sappho, after Anacreon, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Did this epigram perhaps inspire the legend that Sappho leapt into the sea to her doom, over her despair for her love for the ferryman Phaon? See the following poem ...
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.
In Menander's play The Leukadia he refers to a legend that Sappho flung herself from the White Rock of Leukas in pursuit of Phaon. We owe the preservation of those verses to Strabo, who cited them. Phaon appears in works by Ovid, Lucian and Aelian. He is also mentioned by Plautus in Miles Gloriosus as being one of only two men in the whole world, who "ever had the luck to be so passionately loved by a woman."
Sappho, fragment 24, loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1a.
Dear, don't you remember how, in days long gone,
we did such things, being young?
1b.
Dear, don't you remember, in days long gone,
how we did such things, being young?
2.
Don't you remember, in days bygone,
how we did such things, being young?
3.
Remember? In our youth
we too did such reckless things.
Sappho, fragment 154, loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1.
The moon rose and we women
thronged it like an altar.
2.
Maidens throng
at the altar of Love
all night long.
Even as their hearts froze,
their feathers molted.
—Sappho, fragment 42, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your voice beguiles me.
Your laughter lifts my heart’s wings.
If I listen to you, even for a moment, I am left speechless.
—Sappho, fragment 31, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 57
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
That country ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
1b.
That country ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art
is hiking her dress
to reveal her ankles' nakedness!
2.
That hayseed ****
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
3.
That rustic girl bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking the hem of her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
Sappho Translations by Michael R. Burch
These are Michael R. Burch's modern English translations of the immortal Sappho of ******, 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 ****
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** 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 **** 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 / *** 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 ******.
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 ***.
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 ******* 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 ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** you with her ankles' nakedness!
1b.
That country ***** bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art
is hiking her dress
to reveal her ankles' nakedness!
2.
That hayseed ****
bewitches your heart?
Hell, her most beguiling art's
hiking her dress
to ****** 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 **** 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 *******.
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
You came and did well to come
because I desired you. You made
love blaze in my breast, thus I bless you …
but not the endless hours when you're gone.
Sappho, fragment 153
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They call me the sweet-voiced girl, parthenon aduphonon.
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You anointed yourself
with the most exquisite perfume.
Sappho, fragment 42
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
As their hearts froze,
their feathers molted.
2.
As their hearts grew chill
their wings grew still.
3.
Their hearts quieted,
they alighted.
Sappho, fragment 134
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Selene came to Endymion in the cave,
made love to him as he slept,
then crept away before the sun could prove
its light and warmth the more adept.
Sappho, fragment 47
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eros harrows my heart:
wild winds whipping desolate mountains,
uprooting oaks.
Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?
Sappho, fragment 52
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
With my two small arms, how can I
think to encircle the sky?
Sappho, fragment 137
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gold does not rust,
yet my son becomes dust?
Sappho, fragment 48
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You did well to come and I yearned for you.
Though I burned with desire, you cooled my fevered mind.
Mere air,
my words' fare,
but intoxicating to hear.
—loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sappho, fragment 9
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mere breath,
words I command
are nevertheless immortal.
Sappho, fragment 118
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sing, my sacred tortoiseshell lyre;
come, let my words
accompany your voice.
My Religion
attributed to Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
I discovered the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
1b.
I found the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
1c.
I sought the Goddess in your body's curves and crevasses.
2a.
My religion consists of your body's curves and crevasses.
2b.
My religion became your body's curves and crevasses.
2c.
I discovered my religion in your body's curves and crevasses.
Sappho, fragment 37
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Pain
drains
me
to
the
last
drop
.
2.
Pain drains me;
may thunderstorms and lightning
strike my condemners.
Sappho, fragment 147
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Someone, somewhere
will remember us,
I swear!
Sappho, fragment 146
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
No droning bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
1b.
No buzzing bee,
nor even the bearer of honey
for me!
2.
Neither the honey
nor the bee
for me!
Sappho, fragment 168b
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1a.
Midnight.
The hours drone on
as I moan here, alone.
1b.
Midnight.
The hours drone.
I moan,
alone.
2a.
The moon has long since set;
the Pleiades are gone;
now half the night is spent
yet here I lie—alone.
2b.
The moon has long since set;
the Pleiades are gone;
now half the night is spent
yet here I sleep, alone.
Sappho, fragment 119
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
We brought the urn aboard the barge, inscribed:
This is the dust of Timas,
whom Persephone received, *****, into her bedchamber,
for whom her fellowmaidens in mourning
slashed their soft curls with sharpened blades.
2.
This is the dust of Timas, dead, *****,
whom Persephone took to her dark bed,
for whom her fellowmaidens, mourning,
hacked off their locks like sheep at a shearing.
Sappho, fragment 21
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A purple scarf shadowed your face—
a cherished gift from Timas,
sent from Phocaea.
Sappho, fragment 290
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Dancing rhythmically, with light feet,
the Cretan women thronged the altar,
trampling circles in the fine soft flowering grass.
2.
Dancing rhythmically, with light feet,
to the pulsating beat,
Cretan
women thronged the altar in their mass,
trampling circles in the fine soft flowering grass.
Sappho, fragment 128
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come join us, tender Graces
and lovely-haired Muses,
in our ecstatic dances!
Sappho, fragment 93
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Our playmates are pink-ankled Graces
and golden Aphrodite!
Sappho, fragment 53
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, rosy-armed Graces,
Zeus's daughters,
in your perfection!
Sappho, fragment 111
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Raise the rafters, carpenters.
Hoist high the roof-beams!
***** Hymenaeus!
Here comes the bridegroom,
statuesque as Ares!
***** Hymenaeus!
Sappho, fragment 112
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lucky bridegroom,
your wedding day has finally arrived
and your alluring bride is your heart’s desire!
Sappho, fragment 32 (Barnard 32)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virginity!
Alas my lost Virginity!
Sappho, fragment 57
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Heavy-lidded Slumber, child of Night, claimed them.
Sappho, fragment 57a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Aphrodite's handmaid, resplendent in gold,
Hecate, Queen of Darkness untold!
Sappho, fragment 63
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Last night, Cyprian,
you and I clashed (s)words
in my dreams.
Sappho, fragment 48
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now I know why Eros,
of all the gods’ offspring,
is most blessed.
Sappho, fragment 68
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
That was then, this is now!
In those days my maidenhead was in full bloom,
then you …
Sappho, fragment 135
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Golden Persuasion, Aphrodite's daughter,
how you deceive mortals!
Sappho, fragment 88
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why, Procne,
delicate swallow, daughter of Pandīon,
why do you weary me with tales of woe?
Sappho, fragment 287
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I once instructed Hero of Gyara, the fleetfooted.
Sappho, fragment 15
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Cypris, may she find you a harsh mistress,
Doricha, the ****!
Put an end to her bragging,
nor let her boast that she fooled him twice,
my brother's embezzler!
Doricha was a courtesan who allegedly caused Sappho's brother Charaxus to lose considerable wealth. Doricha was also known by the pseudonym Rhodopis, which means "rosy-cheeked."
Sappho, fragment 7
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Doricha commands arrogantly,
like young men.
Sappho, fragment 148
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A vagabond friendship,
a public blessing …
repent Rhodopis!
Sappho, fragment 138
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The beautiful courtesan Rhodopis,
lies here entombed, more fair
than when she walked with white lilies
plaited in her dark hair,
but now she's as withered as they:
whose dust is more gray?
Sappho, fragment 5
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Revered Nereids, divine sea-daughters, please grant that my brother may return unharmed,
his heart's desires all fulfilled,
and may he show his sister more honor than in his indifferent past …
But you, O august Kypris, please keep him from unbearable dooms!
Sappho, fragment 148
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Wealth unaccompanied by Character
is a dangerous houseguest,
but together they invite happiness.
Sappho, fragment 201
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Gold is indestructible.
2.
Gold is God's indestructible Child:
the One neither moth nor worm devours.
Sappho, fragment 66
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ares bragged he'd drag forge-master Hephaestus off by sheer force!
Sappho, fragment 120
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Over fisherman Pelagon's grave his father Meniscus left creel and oar, relics of a luckless life.
Sappho, fragment 143
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How golden broom brightens riverbanks!
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You remind me of a little girl
I once assisted picking flowers.
Sappho, fragment 95
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Lord Hermes, you guide spirits to their final destination.
Now guide me, for I am despondent and wish only to die,
to see the lotus-lined shores of Acheron.
Sappho, fragment 150
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1
Cleis, daughter, don't cry!
Mourning is unbecoming a poet's household.
2.
For those who serve the Muses,
mourning is unbecoming.
Sappho, fragment 56
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Will any woman
born under the sun
ever match your art?
2.
No woman
born under the sun
will ever have your wisdom.
Sappho, fragment 135
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Erinna, why does darkwinged Procne, King Pandion's daughter, beckon?
Sappho, fragment 17
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hear me, Queen Hera, as your delightful festival nears,
you to whom the sons of Atreus performed vows,
those dazzling kings who did such amazing things,
first at Troy, then later at sea.
And yet, sailing the sea-road to our island,
those mighty kings still could not attain it
until they had called on you and Zeus,
the god of seekers and beseechers,
and Dionysus, alluring son of Semele.
Now we too perform the ancient rites,
O most holy and most beautiful Goddess,
we throngs of virgins, young women and wives.
Please allow us to arrive safely at the shrine.
Sappho, fragment 86
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
In this quiet moment,
I beg a boon from Zeus,
the bearer of the aegis,
even as I implore, O Aphrodite,
the tenderness of your benevolent heart;
hear my prayer, as once before,
when, departing Cyprus,
you heeded my earnest cry
and chose not to be harsh.
Sappho, fragment 44a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Golden-haired Phoebus was sired on Leto by the high-soaring son of Kronos. His sister, Artemis, swore a great oath to Zeus: “By your crown, I shall always be an ***** ****** hunting on remote mountaintops. Assent!” The father of the Blessed Ones nodded his consent. Now gods and mortals call her The ****** Huntress and Eros, limb-loosener, dare never approach her!
Sappho, fragment 168c
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Gaia, rainbow-crowned, garbs herself in myriad hues.
Sappho, fragment 101a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Undaunted by summer ablaze
the cicada emits its high, shrill song.
Sappho, fragment 103
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sing of the bride with shapely feet, fair as the violet-robed daughter of Zeus, Artemis. Let the violet-robed bride calm her bridegroom's anger. Come holy Graces and Pierian Muses, whose sweet-toned songs soothe the overwrought heart. Let the annoyed bridegroom complain to his companions as she redoes her hair, fiddles with her lyre, and tries on dawn-golden sandals!
Sappho, fragment 103b
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bed the bride with the beautiful feet,
or bring her to me!
Sappho, fragment 141
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hermes mixed ambrosia in a bowl,
then poured it for the gods
who, having lifted their cups, made libations,
then in one voice blessed the bridegroom.
Sappho, fragment 27
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Because you were once young and loved to dance and sing, come, think favorably of us and be gracious. You know we're off to a wedding, so quickly as possible please send the virgins away. And may the gods bless us here since there's no path yet for men to reach great Olympus.
Sappho, fragment 115
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Dear groom,
to whom
may I compare you?
To a slender sapling.
Sappho, fragment 103c
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
… remembering delightful Arheanassa,
her laughter lovely as any Lorelei's …
2.
… remembering delightful Arheanassa,
her laughter lovely as any water nymph's …
Sappho, fragment 76
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fulfill?
At my age I'm just hanging on!
Sappho, fragment 45
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
As long as you desire, I do!
2.
As long as you command, I obey!
3.
As long as you will, I submit.
4.
As long as you want me, I'm yours.
Sappho, fragment 50
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A handsome man pleases the eyes
but a good man pleases.
Sappho, fragment 41
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
For you, O my Beautiful Ones,
my mind is unalterable.
Sappho, fragment 18
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Everyone extols my storytelling:
"better than any man's!"
Sappho, fragment 88
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Though you prefer not to get carried away
and may imagine someone sweeter to behold,
someone who may yet say "Yes!"
still I will love you as long as there's breath in me,
swallowing the bitter,
ever the faithful lover.
Sappho, fragment 158
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When anger floods your chest,
best to still a reckless tongue.
Sappho, fragment 129
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They say Sappho's sweetest utterance
Was the hymeneal hymn of Love.
Sappho, fragment 153
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Queen Dawn,
solemn Dawn,
come!
Sappho, fragment 26
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why, Mistress Aphrodite,
*******! Why do you
fill me with such lust? Why
inflict such suffering on me?
When I prayed to you in the past,
you never treated me with such indifference!
Sappho, fragment 132
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Love, the child of Aphrodite and heaven;
Sappho, of earth;
Who had the more divine birth?
In the following 101 short translations the fragment numbers are Lobel-Page unless otherwise noted. All translations are by Michael R. Burch and should be so credited if they are used in any way, shape or form.
I now, with all my heart, fully, as much as it is possible for me, blossom to see your lovely face, touching. (4)
Let's go ogle golden-armed Lady Dawn before our doom. (6b)
It's impossible to be happy and human; yet I still pray a share for myself, of happiness. (16a)
Even this pressed for time, tonight we can raise a toast to the stars. (18a)
Put on your finery and with any luck we'll make harbor — back to dry land, back to the black earth. (20)
Though I'm skilled in lament and trembling with wrinkle-skinned age, yet there is the chase. Strum your lyre and sing to us of violet-robed loveseekers, Abanthis! (21)
Left to our own devices, two pretty young things, we found our way to the bedroom. (25)
Menelaus, son of Atreus, lies returned to the black earth, finally beyond agony. (INCERT. 27)
Colorful Lydian sandals covered her feet. So beautiful! (39)
At your altar, unforgiving Mistress, I will sacrifice a white goat and offer libations. (40)
I and Archeanassa, Gorgo's wife … (42a)
Beauty brings peace when my mind is troubled. Come sit beside me, friends, for day draws nigh. (43)
Once fleeing, hounded and bitten by gods, you gave me a name, put fame in my mouth. (58a)
O darkwinged dream you soar on night's drafts to sleep with the gods, and I am in agony to sense such distant power for I expect to share nothing with the blessed. I would rather not be left with mere trinkets, yet may I have them all! (63)
Andromeda may have abandoned you, but I, Aphrodite, Queen of Cyprus, still love you, Sappho, as the sun illuminates everything, everywhere; even by the dewy banks of Acheron, I am with you. (65)
I come to join the harmonies of a joyful chorus: sweet-toned, clear-voiced. (70)
Aphrodite, goddess of sweet-sung desires, sits on her throne of blooms in the beautiful dew. (73)
Aphrodite, sweet-talking goddess of love, sits on her throne of blooms in the beautiful dew. (73)
Joy? What joy? You gave me nothing: though beautiful, always unsmiling. (77)
She was all hair, otherwise nothing. (80)
Mnasidika is more curvaceous than even our soft Gyrinno. (82a)
Wait here once again, because … I come! (84)
You enrich me, like listening to an old man. (85)
We, having left rumors behind, departed people in a frenzy, tearing out their hair. (87)
Atthis, so charming in the bedroom, but otherwise hateful, proud and aloof, her teeth clicking like castanets. (87a)
Though you caused my soul and my heart sorrow, here's a small truth: I will always say "I love you" with a true heart. (88a)
Persuasion, Aphrodite's fledgling, with her broad, arrogant wings, sped me to Gyrinno, then to graceful Atthis. (90)
Irana, you're the biggest pain I've ever met! (91)
… saffron-dyed Phrygian purple robes and rugs … (92)
Later Polyanaktidis takes the lyre, strums the chords till they vibrate softly, and yet the sound pierces bones and melts the marrow. (99a)
Sons of Zeus, come to your rites from wooded Gryneia, here to our oracle! Then let the ritual songs begin! (99b)
Expensive gifts, these scented purple headscarves Mnasis sent us from Phokaia. (101)
Gorgo took her many insignificant verses to Cyprus, to be admired by many. (103a)
******'s singers reign supreme! (106)
Lesbian singers out-sing all others. (106)
… a most beautiful, graceful girl … (108)
The doorkeep’s feet are seven fathoms long, fill five oxhides, and it took ten cobblers to strap his sandals! (110)
Groom, to whom can I fairly compare you? To a slender sapling. (115)
Rejoice, most honored bride and groom! Rejoice! (116)
May the bride rejoice and her groom rejoice. Rejoice! (117)
The newlyweds appeared at the polished entryway. (117a)
Hesperus, star of the evening! *****, god of marriage! Adonis-like groom! (117b)
She stunned us in / wet linen. (119)
I'm talented, it's true, / but you / Calliope, remain unrivaled. (124)
I now wear garlands, who once wove them. (125)
Come again, Muses, leaving the golden heavens. (126)
Andromeda had a fine retort: "Sappho, why did Aphrodite so favor you? Did you ****** her?" (133)
We once spoke in a dream, Cyprian! (134)
Nightingale, enticing-songed harbinger of spring. Sing! (136)
The gods alone are above tears. (139)
They've all had their fill of Gorgo. (144)
Nightlong celebration wearies their eyes, then closes them. (149)
Our eyes embrace the black sleep of night. (151)
… many colors mingled … (152)
Women thronged the altar at moonrise. (154)
A hearty "Hello!" to the daughter of Polyanax. (155)
Lady Dawn, arise, / flood night's skies / with cerise. (157)
Imperial Aphrodite said: "You and Eros are my vassals. (159)
Imperial Aphrodite! bridegrooms bow down to Her! kings are Her bodyguards and squires. (161)
You "see" me? With whose eyes? (162)
Oh, my dearest darling, never depart/ or you'll wreck my heart! (163)
Leto summons her son, the Sun. (164)
To himself he seems godly, to us a boor. (165)
Leda, they said, once discovered a hidden, hyacinth-blue egg. (166)
Whiter than eggs, your unsunned *******. (167)
She's fonder of children than cradlerobber Gello. (168a)
We ran like fawns from the symposium: me, Cleis and reckless Gongyla. (168d)
Destiny is from the Muses, / and thus I was destined to leave him / to become / Sappho, Mistress of Song. (168e,f)
Unknowing of evil, I was pure innocence. (171)
Eros, pain-inducer, desist! (172)
She grew like a trellis vine. (173)
Mighty Zeus, World-Holder! (180)
Little is learned with an easy passage, much by a hard. (181)
May I go, or must you? (182)
Eros gusting blew my heart to pieces. (183)
I live in danger of too much love. (184)
Men fell in love with my honeyed voice, but I fell for girls. (185)
Sappho: Let me be one of the Muses when I die! Aphrodite: Granted! (187)
Eros, story-weaver, never a happy ending? (188)
I was very wise, except in the ways of love. (190)
That girl grew curvy and curly, like celery. (191)
We raised golden goblets inlaid with ivory and toasted the stars. (192)
I once instructed Hero of Gyara, the fleetfooted runner. (287)
We collapsed, drenched in sweat on both sides. (288)
Dawn spilled down the high mountains. (289)
Trading rosy health for less heartache, I fled my girlish youth. (291)
Such a boy once drove his chariot to Thebes, while Malis spun his fate on her spindle. (292, Malis was a Lydian war goddess)
"Thorneater?" That doesn't offend irongutted Arcadians! (293)
Hecate, Aphrodite's golden-armored ally, Queen of the Underworld. (294)
Learn from Admetus to love the courageous and avoid cowards, who seldom show gratitude. (296)
The black earth absorbed grief-stricken tears along with the interred sons of Atreus. (297)
Nightingale, sing your song and I'll sing along. (298)
Aphrodite, my mind is troubled. I'm still your servant, but Atthis remains a headstrong child. (299)
As when before your light streamed like honey but I was in darkness still. (300)
She is lovely as before, but where now is Hope? (300a)
Aphrodite, do you not love the windlike dances / of beautiful, apple-cheeked Abanthis? (301)
Cyprian, how splendid your altar ablaze in blue, silver and gold. Yet you all the more amazing! (302)
The bride lovely as dawn's unfolding sky, the groom nearly as handsome. (303)
Cyprian, here we come, singing songs and offering libations! (304)
A graceful girl, shy as a fawn and as flighty. (305)
Glorious passions! Passions uproarious! (306)
Sappho, fragment 306a
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
O most revered Queen of Heaven,
Golden Aphrodite!
Blessed above all mortal women,
and blessed by them …
Goddess, come!
Aphrodite, most beautiful,
enter with your train of elegant attendants!
Arise now for me,
honeysweet Aphrodite!
Meet me with greetings holy and divine!
Be mine!
What ecstasies, O my Queen,
shall we revel in at midnight?
THE LONGER POEMS OF SAPPHO
Unfortunately, the only completely intact poem left by Sappho is her "Ode to Aphrodite" or "Hymn to Aphrodite" (an interesting synchronicity since Sappho is best known as a love poet and Aphrodite was the ancient Greek goddess of love). However, "That man is peer of the gods" and the first poem below, variously titled “The Anactoria Poem,” “Helen’s Eidolon” and “Some People Say …” are largely intact. Was Sappho the author of the world's first "make love, not war" poem?
"Some Say"
Sappho, fragment 16
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warriors on rearing chargers,
columns of infantry,
fleets of warships:
some call these the dark earth's redeeming visions.
But I say—
the one I desire.
Nor am I unique
because she who so vastly surpassed all other mortals in beauty
—Helen—
seduced by Aphrodite, led astray by desire,
departed for distant Troy,
abandoning her celebrated husband,
deserting her parents and child!
Her story reminds me of Anactoria,
who has also departed,
and whose lively dancing and lovely face
I would rather see than all Lydia's horsemen, war-chariots
and columns of infantry parading in flashing armor.
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To the brightness of Love
not destroying the sight—
sweet, warm noonday sun
lightening things dun:
whence comes the Night?
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How can I compete with that ****** man
who fancies himself one of the gods,
impressing you with his "eloquence" …
when just the thought of basking in your radiant presence,
of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter,
sets my heart hammering at my breast?
Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you,
I'm left speechless, tongue-tied,
and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin.
Then my vision dims with tears,
my ears ring,
I sweat profusely,
and every muscle twitches or trembles.
When the blood finally settles,
I'm paler and wetter than the limpest grass.
Then, in my exhausted madness,
I'm as dull as the dead.
And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you …
Ode to Anactoria
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
To me that boy seems
blessed by the gods
because he sits beside you,
basking in your brilliant presence.
My heart races at the sound of your voice!
Your laughter?—bright water, dislodging pebbles
in a chaotic vortex. I can't catch my breath!
My heart bucks in my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't speak.
My ******* glow with intense heat;
desire's blush-inducing fires redden my flesh.
My ears seem hollow; they ring emptily.
My tongue is broken and cleaves to its roof.
I sweat profusely. I shiver.
Suddenly, I grow pale
and feel only a second short of dying.
And yet I must endure, somehow,
despite my poverty.
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… at the sight of you,
words fail me …
Sappho, fragment 31
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your voice beguiles me.
Your laughter lifts my heart's wings.
If I listen to you, even for a moment, I am left stunned, speechless.
The following are Sappho's poems for Atthis aka Attis aka Athis …
Sappho, fragment 49
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I loved you, Atthis, long ago …
even when you seemed a graceless child.
2.
I fell in love with you, Atthis, long ago …
You seemed immature to me then, and not all that graceful.
3.
I loved you, little monkey-faced Atthis, long ago …
when you still seemed a graceless child.
4.
I loved you Atthis, long ago,
when my girlhood was a heyday of flowers
and you seemed but an awkward adolescent.
Sappho, fragment 131
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
You desert me, Atthis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andromeda …
2.
Atthis, you forsake me
and flit off to Andromeda …
Ode to Anactoria or Ode to Atthis or Ode to Gongyla
Sappho, fragment 94
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
So my Atthis has not returned
and thus, let the truth be said,
I wish I were dead …
"Honestly, I just want to die!"
Atthis sighed,
shedding heartfelt tears,
inconsolably sad
when she
left me.
"How deeply we have loved,
we two,
Sappho!
Oh,
I really don't want to go!"
I answered her tenderly,
"Go as you must
and be happy,
trust-
ing your remembrance of me,
for you know how much
I loved you.
And if you begin to forget,
please try to recall
all
the heavenly emotions we felt
as with many wreathes of violets,
roses and crocuses
you sat beside me
adorning your delicate neck.
Once garlands had been fashioned of many woven flowers,
with much expensive myrrh
we anointed our bodies, like royalty
on soft couches,
then my tender caresses
fulfilled your desire …"
Sappho, fragment 96
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Our beloved Anactoria dwells in distant Sardis, but her thoughts often return to the life we shared together here, when she saw you as a goddess incarnate, robed in splendor, and loved to hear you singing her praises. Now she surpasses all Sardinian women, as, rising at sunset the rosy-fingered moon outshines the surrounding stars, illuminating salt seas and flowering meadows alike. Thus the delicate dew sparkles, the rose revives, and the tender chervil and sweetclover blossom. Now oftentimes when our beloved wanders aimlessly, she is reminded of gentle Atthis; then her heart assaults her tender breast with painful pangs and she cries aloud for us to console her. Truly, we understand the distress she feels, because Night, the many-eared, calls to us from across the dividing sea. But to go there is not easy, nor to rival a goddess in her loveliness.
The following translation is based on an imaginative translation by Willis Barnstone. The source fragment has major gaps.
Sappho, fragment 96
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
How can mortal women rival the goddesses in beauty? But you may have come closest of all, or second to only Helen! With much love for you Aphrodite poured nectar from a gold decanter and with gentle hands Persuasion bade you drink. Now at the Geraistos shrine, of all the women dear to me, none compares to you.
Sappho, fragment 92
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
“Sappho, if you don’t leave your room,
I swear I’ll never love you again!
Get out of bed, rise and shine on us,
take off your Chian nightdress,
then, like a lily floating in a pond,
enter your bath. Cleis will bring you
a violet frock and lovely saffron blouse
from your clothes-chest. Then we’ll adorn
you with a bright purple mantle and crown
your hair with flowers. So come, darling,
with your maddening beauty,
while Praxinoa roasts nuts for our breakfast.
The gods have been good to us,
for today we’re heading at last to Mytilene
with you, Sappho, the loveliest of women,
like a mother among daughters.” Dearest
Atthis, those were fine words,
but now you forget everything!
Sappho, fragment 98
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
My mother said that in her youth
a purple ribband
was considered an excellent adornment,
but we were dark
and for blondes with hair brighter than torches
it was better to braid garlands of fresh flowers.
2.
My mother said that in her youth
to bind one's hair in back,
gathered together by a purple plaited circlet,
was considered an excellent adornment,
but for blondes with hair brighter than torches
it was better to braid garlands of fresh flowers,
or more recently, to buy colorful headbands from Sardis
and other Ionian cities.
But for you, my dearest Cleis,
I have no iridescent headband
to match your hair's vitality!
Sappho, fragment 41
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
For you, fair maidens, my mind does not equivocate.
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with such vigor!
But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers, as you did so graciously before;
O, come Divine One, descend once more
from heaven's golden dominions!
Then, with your chariot yoked to love's
white consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you came gliding from heaven's shining heights,
to this dark gutter.
Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.
Asking me what I sought in my bewildered desire.
Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion
summon here?"
"Although today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, soon she shall give them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly!"
Come to me now, O most Holy Aphrodite!
Free me now from my heavy heartache and anguish!
Graciously grant me all I request!
Be once again my ally and protector!
"Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety.
Sappho, fragment 2
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Come, Cypris, from Crete
to meet me at this holy temple
where a lovely grove of apples awaits our presence
bowering altars
fuming with frankincense.
Here brisk waters babble beneath apple branches,
the grounds are overshadowed by roses,
and through their trembling leaves
deep sleep descends.
Here the horses will nibble flowers
as we gorge on apples
and the breezes blow
honey-sweet with nectar…
Here, Cypris, we will gather up garlands,
pour the nectar gratefully into golden cups
and with gladness
commence our festivities.
The Brothers Poem
by Sappho
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
… but you’re always prattling about Kharaxos
returning with his ship's hold full. As for that,
Zeus and the gods alone know, so why indulge
idle fantasies?
Rather release me, since I am commending
numerous prayers to mighty Queen Hera,
asking that his undamaged ship might safely return
Kharaxos to us.
Then we will have serenity. As for
everything else, leave it to the gods
because calm seas often follow
sudden squalls
and those whose fortunes the gods transform
from unmitigated disaster into joy
have received a greater blessing
than prosperity.
Furthermore, if Larikhos raises his head
from this massive depression, we shall
see him become a man, lift ours and
stand together.
Sappho, fragment 58
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Virgins, be zealous for the violet-scented Muses' lovely gifts
and those of melodious lyre …
but my once-supple skin sags now;
my arthritic bones creak;
my ravenblack hair's turned white;
my lighthearted heart's grown heavy;
my knees buckle;
my feet, once fleet as fawns, fail the dance.
I often bemoan my fate … but what's the use?
Not to grow old is, of course, not an option.
I am reminded of Tithonus, adored by Dawn with her arms full of roses,
who, overwhelmed by love, carried him off beyond death's dark dominion.
Handsome for a day, but soon withered with age,
he became an object of pity to his ageless wife.
And yet I still love life's finer things and have been granted brilliance, abundance and beauty.
And now, in closing, these are poems dedicated to the Divine Sappho:
Sappho's Rose
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The rose is—
the ornament of the earth,
the glory of nature,
the archetype of the flowers,
the blush of the meadows,
a lightning flash of beauty.
Sappho’s Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
Hushed yet melodic, the hills and the valleys
sleep unaware of the nightingale's call
as the dew-laden lilies lie
listening,
glistening …
this is their night, the first night of fall.
Son, tonight, a woman awaits you;
she is more vibrant, more lovely than spring.
She'll meet you in moonlight,
soft and warm,
all alone …
then you'll know why the nightingale sings.
Just yesterday the stars were afire;
then how desire flashed through my veins!
But now I am older;
night has come,
I’m alone …
for you I will sing as the nightingale sings.
Keywords/Tags: Sappho, ******, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, love, ***, desire, passion, lust