aphrodite

Such is the passion for love
that has twisted its way beneath my heartstrings
and closed deep mist across my eyes
stealing the soft heart from inside my body…

Archilochus

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lyre

(in possession of pity?)
trembling
old age now
(my) skin covers…

(Love?) flies
pursuing (the young?)…
glorious
taking (your lyre?)
sing to us of the violet-
robed one…
especially…
wanders…

Sappho

snow in summer

Snow in summer on a dry tongue is sweet,
and after winter sweet for the sailor
to see the spring stars,
but sweetest when one cloak shelters
two lovers,
and the Cyprian is praised.

Asclepiades