That impossible predator,
Eros the Limb-Loosener,
Bitter-sweetly and afresh
Savages my flesh
Reading this collection of poems a dynamic image composed of the many striking impressions left on the reader’s mind comes alive in a single, scintillating whole. Here is Sappho of Lesbos – young and insistent, old and ardent - with her delicate fingers on her own throbbing pulse through which courses fragrant blood of desire and death-longing pervading her frangible heart with a surrendering melancholy whether she is walking towards the blessed temple with frankincense sticks in hand and a prayer-complaint on her luscious lips: Who, Sappho, at a word, must grow / Again receptive to your love, or reclining under thick boughs in a luxuriant spot where a bracing spring / Percolates, roses without number / Umber the earth and, rustling, / The leaves drip slumber, or whether she is resigned for the night to her lonely bed clutching the frills of the mattress and pressing her head down on the pillow, thinking forlornly Come close, you precious / Graces and Muses / With beautiful Tresses, soliloquizing with a nostalgic overflow for her absentee lover:
You will have memories
Because of what we did back then
When we were new at this,
Yes, we did many things, then – all
Beautiful…
The image, the trailer, the glimpse grows into a broader story wherein Sappho leads her girl friends into exploring the depths of desire through a symbolic visit to the majestic temples and its water gardens to gather fragrant sprays from the red roses, and where, happy and gay, they exchange stories. Sappho says this and what she says, says it beautifully. Take a look at this one:
Her garment (when you stole a glance)
Roused you, and I’m in ecstasy.
Likewise, the goddess Kypris once
Disciplined me
Blaming the way I prayed…
She takes us through the war preparations when deathless glories out of Asia arise to threaten the peace and tranquility of her idyllic existence. Amid the clatter of teaming horses harnessed to chariots, war drums beating to the tune of her heartbeat, wives and maids clambered aboard the transports, soldiers beautified with the jewelry of armaments, Sappho’s mind slips off into a private reverie and she thus muses:
Star clusters near the fair moon dim
Their shapely shimmering whenever
She rises, lucent to the brim
And flowing over
And I would rather watch her body
Sway, her glistening face flash dalliance
Than Lydian war cars at the ready
And armed battalions.
I have a copy of Sappho’s complete poems I bought a while ago and after getting a taste of her through this collection I’m eager to go through the whole of her. Hopefully soon <3
July 2015