Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SAPPHO, by SEBASTIEN CHARLES LECONTE



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SAPPHO, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: You to whom I aspired, yet did not know
Last Line: False sanctuary that the gods have fled!
Subject(s): Sappho (610-580 B.c.)


You to whom I aspired, yet did not know,
Tyrant besought with all my being's glow,
By my blood, heavy with love's expectancy,
When I cried out to you whom I adored,
My divine anguish poured,
Phaon, it was your flesh that answered me.

To win the austere beauty of your brow
I pressed my pain into my shameless vow,
And tightened over the unplumbed abyss
The cords of my breaking lyre and my heart—
And saw your lips part
With no soul wakened but the moment's kiss.

To sing your might and weep for your caress,
Of the Word of the gods an impious votaress,
Into the cup of rhythm that my pride must quaff
I have poured the wondrous poisons my fever drips—
And the altar of my lips,
By your glory profaned, shall bear its epitaph.

Long sleepless nights have burned my haggard face,
And in the bitterness of vain embrace
You do not see, sweet lord whose fire consumes
My senses, that to you, when your flesh awaits
My body that intoxicates,
My immortality fumes as incense fumes.

And in the imperious desire of your eyes,
When I seek for the light of eternal skies,
You fancy I look, in your gathering arms,
For the proud twining of flesh that is flushed,
When the lips are crushed
Like a grape swollen with the body's balms.

Eros has armed you with his mighty bow,
And with a subtle charm you do not know,
That bends beneath your gaze, the while you press
Through the magnificent horror of bloody seas,
The warriors' knees,
Before your promise of joy and gentleness.

But you who do not suffer will never feel
How, to work my endless spirit's weal—
Blank gulf of sobs that all reply must want—
The most splendid loves and most insatiate
That all our senses fret
Are less than a flower tossed to the Hellespont!

And thus it is that I shall die, dark sea!
Of all the gods who here had empery,
Shade of a burnt-out cult, Love lifts its head:
But the heart of Sappho, starting from its dream,
Renounces things that seem,
False sanctuary that the gods have fled!






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