ode to sappho (from ode to aphrodite)

(im)mortal sappho, on the bench by the sea,

daughter of lesbos, writer of words, this i pray:

dear woman, don't be deaf to my heart's

sorrow and longings.

appear to me, as you did before,

when i called to you as a child,

you listened. and you approached,

leaving your loving grave,

riding your wave of the bluest water.

red tailed comets followed you over the ocean

from cloud to cloud they hopped

blurring the sun above.

swiftly they flew. and you, the tenth muse,

a smile on your (im)mortal face,

asked what had happened this time,

why I had called you again,

and what did I desire most deeply

in my fickle heart:

"who this time am i to persuade

to your love? who shall i sing to?

for even if she closes her eyes, soon she shall look.

and if she refuses words, soon she shall speak them.

if she hides her love, soon she shall not,

even if her god forbids it."

come to me now once again and relieve me

from draining disquiet.

all that my heart desires,

fulfill. and be yourself my knight in love's duel.