The Arbor

He seems to he a god, that man
Facing you, who leans to be close,
Smiles, and, alert and glad, listens
To your mellow voice

And quickens in love at your laughter
That stings my breasts, jolts my heart
If I dare the shock of a glance.
I cannot speak,

My tongue sticks to my dry mouth,
Thin fire spreads beneath my skin,
My eyes cannot see and my aching ears
Roar in their labyrinths.

Chill sweat glides down my back,
I shake, I turn greener than grass.
I am neither living nor dead and cry
From the narrow between.

by Sappho

Comments (1)

No clue why the rating is so low on this poem. This is an inspired poem with so much character. Sappho's ex-lover is in the arms of a man now, and yet she must gaze upon the sight of her and this man much too often. She experiences heat flashes out of anger that pulse through her skin, and she grows green with envy. She feels numb, so much that she describes the feeling as a place between life and death. Exceptional poem from more than 2500 years ago!