Sappho

Am I blind alas,am I blind?I too have followedher path.I too have bent at her feet.I too have wakened to pluckamaranth in the straight shaft,amaranth purple in the cup,scorched at the edge to white.

Am I blind?am I the less ready for her sacrifice?am I the less eager to givewhat she asks,she the shameless and radiant?

Am I quite lost,I towering above you and her glance,walking with swifter pace,with clearer sight,with intensitybeside which you twoare as spent ash?

Nay, I give back to the goddess the giftshe tendered me in a momentof great bounty.I return it. I lay it againon the white slab of her house,the beauty she cast outone moment, careless.

Nor do I cry out:“why did I stoop?why did I turn asideone moment from the rocksmarking the sea-path?Aphrodite, shameless and radiant,have pity, turn, answer us.”

Ah no--though I stumble towardher altar-step,though my flesh is scorched and rent,shattered, cut apart,slashed open;though my heels press my own wet lifeblack, dark to purple,on the smooth, rose-streakedthreshold of her pavement.

Am I blind alas, deaf toothat my ears lost all this?nay, O my lover,shameless and still radiant,I tell you this:

I was not asleep,I did not lie asleep on those hot rockswhile you waited.I was not unaware when I glancedout toward the seawatching the purple ships.

I was not blind when I turned.I was not indifferent when I strayed asideor loitered as we three wentor seemed to turn a moment from the pathfor that same amaranth.

I was not dull and dead when I fellback on our couch at night.I was not indifferent when I turnedand lay quiet.I was not dead in my sleep.

Lady of all beauty,I give you this:say I have offered small sacrifice,say I am unworthy your touch,but say not:“she turned to some cold, calm god,silent, pitiful, in preference.”

Lady of all beauty,I give you this:say not:“she deserted my altar-step,the fire on my white hearthwas too great,she fell back at my first glance.”

Lady, radiant and shameless,I have brought small wreaths,(they were a child’s gift,)I have offered myrrh-leaf,crisp lentisk,I have laid rose-petaland white rock-rose from the beach.

But I give now a greater,I give life and spirit with this.I render a graceno one has dared to speak,lest men at your altar greet himas slave, callous to your art;I dare more than the singeroffering her lute,the girl her stained veils,the woman her swathes of birth,or pencil and chalk,mirror and unguent box.

I offer more than the ladsinging at your steps,praise of himself,his mirror his friend’s face,more than any girl,I offer you this:(grant only strengththat I withdraw not my gift,)I give you my praise and this:the love of my loverfor his mistress.