PRAYER TO APHRODITE

by Sappho (600 B. C.)

from the heights of heaven,

descending

come near to me, as once in the past you

came in Crete,

in the sacred vale where smiles an apple orchard,

where burns on the altars

in offering, incense.

Here a song of fresh water passes through the branches

of the apple trees; the whole garden is shaded

under roses, and the shivering leaves

drip sleep.

Here, too, a meadow, grassy enough

for horses, is bursting into spring flowers,

and breezes blow gently...

Come, then, your brow bound with a fillet, Cypris,

and into our cups of gold, voluptuously,

that nectar which is mixed at feasts

pour out!

-Translated by

Brooke Whitney from the French of

Edith Mora.

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