July/Aug 2017 • Vol. XXXIX No. 4 Poetry |

Sappho 58a: The Cologne Papyrus

From the Greek and Latin.    Dear girls, [I'm still possessed] of the lovely gifts [of the Muses], violet-dressed; [I'm still in love with song] and the lyre's voice that rings as it sings along. But now this flesh and body, [once so supple], old age has already[got in its clutches], and my head [is white] where all the black has fled. My heart, heavy with freight, beats slow; my knees buckle beneath my weight—knees which were as springy once as a small fawn's, and as quick to dance. And so I groan, and groan anew. But what else can a body do?No one made from a mortal mold can go on living and not get old. Even rosy-forearmed Dawn, they say, spirited away Tithonus to the farthest-flung brink of the world when he was young and lovely, and love [hurt her]. Even so, he couldn't help but growold and gray in the gray years' clutch and blur; though time could not touch her. 

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Catullus 11

By Christopher Childers

From the Greek and Latin.    Dear girls, [I'm still possessed] of the lovely gifts [of the Muses], violet-dressed; [I'm still in love with song] and the lyre's voice that […]

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