10.08.2014, 12:30
PHAON CONCERNING SAPPHO
THAT she is fair of face I know full well ;
Her tuneful lips are touched with Delphic fire
Hers is the haunting voice of wild desire;
She weaves about the world her lyric spell.
When her deft fingers sweep the sounding shell,
Tis as Apollo's self had struck the lyre,
Waking to music the immortal choir
Which in the shining courts of morning dwell.
Yet, ever to a maid with dove-like eyes —
A gentle maid for whom dawn peaceful days,
Who thriftily her busy distaff plies,
Content and glad in simple household ways —
My heart turns as the bird that homeward flies,
Leaving the queen of song to her proud bays.
THAT she is fair of face I know full well ;
Her tuneful lips are touched with Delphic fire
Hers is the haunting voice of wild desire;
She weaves about the world her lyric spell.
When her deft fingers sweep the sounding shell,
Tis as Apollo's self had struck the lyre,
Waking to music the immortal choir
Which in the shining courts of morning dwell.
Yet, ever to a maid with dove-like eyes —
A gentle maid for whom dawn peaceful days,
Who thriftily her busy distaff plies,
Content and glad in simple household ways —
My heart turns as the bird that homeward flies,
Leaving the queen of song to her proud bays.