Sweetbitter | A Sappho Podcast

am I not    olden
olden olden it is unwanted.

wanting, wanting
am I not    broken
stolen    common

am I not crinkled cranky poison
am I not glinty-eyed and frozen

am I not    aged
shaky    glazing
am I not    hazy
guarded    craven

am I not    only
stingy    little
am I not    simple
brittle    spitting

was I not    over
over    ridden?

it is a long story
will you be proud to be my version?

it is unwritten.

writing, writing
am I not    ancient
raging    patient

am I not    able
charming    stable
was I not    building
forming    braving

was I not    ruling
guiding    naming
was I not    brazen
crazy    chosen

even the stones would do my bidding?

it is a long story
am I not proud to be your version?

it is unspoken.

speaking, speaking
am I not    elder
berry
brandy

are you not wine before you find me in your own beaker?

- Slowly: a plainsong from an older woman to a younger woman
Judy Grahn

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Someone will remember us
                                     I say
                                     even in another time

Translated by Carson.

Thank you for listening! You can follow us on Twitter & Instagram @sweetbitterpod.

Come, divine lyre, speak to me
and sing! 

Translated by Rayor. 

Thank you for listening! You can follow us on Twitter & Instagram @sweetbitterpod. 

          ]heart
          ]absolutely
          ]I can
          ]
]would be for me  
]to shine in answer
          ]face
          ]
          ]having been stained
          ]

Translated by Carson.

To me it seems that man has the fortune
of gods, whoever sits beside you
and close, who listens to you
sweetly speaking

and laughing temptingly. My heart
flutters in my breast whenever
I quickly glance at you –
I can say nothing,

my tongue is broken. A delicate fire
runs under my skin, my eyes
see nothing, my ears roar,
cold sweat

rushes down me, trembling seizes me,
I am greener than grass.
To myself I seem
needing but little to die.

Yet all must be endured, since . . .

Translated by Rayor

             ] of desire

             ]

             ] for when I look at you

             ] such a Hermione

] and to yellow haired Helen I liken you

]

] among mortal women, know this

] from every care

] you could release me

             ]

             ] dewy riverbanks

             ] to last all night long

                                       ]  [

Translated by Carson

Come to me from Krete to this holy temple, 
here to your sweet apple grove, 
altars smoking with 
frankincense.

Cold water ripples through apple branches,
the whole place shadowed in roses, 
from the murmuring leaves
deep sleep descends.

Where horses graze, the meadow blooms
spring flowers in the winds
breathe softly . . . 
*

Here, Aphrodite, after gathering . . . 
pour into cups nectar
lavishly mingled
with joys.

Translation by Rayor

You, children, be zealous for the beautiful gifts of the violetlapped Muses

and for the clear songloving lyre.

But my skin once soft is now taken by old age,

my hair turns white from black.

And my heart is weighed down and my knees do not lift,

that once were light to dance as fawns.

I groan for this. But what can I do?

A human being without old age is not a possibility.

There is the story of Tithonos, loved by Dawn with her arms of roses

and she carried him off to the ends of the earth

when he was beautiful and young. Even so was he gripped

by white old age. He still has his deathless wife.

Translation by Carson (2005) 

]

]

]

]

]running away

]bitten

]

]

]you

]makes a way with the mouth

]beautiful gifts children

]songdelighting clear sounding lyre

]all my skin old age already

hair turned white after black

]knees do not carry

]like fawns

]but what could I do?

]not possible to become

]Dawn with arms of roses

]bringing to the ends of the earth

]yet seized

]wife

]imagines

]might bestow

But I love delicacy and this to me—

the brilliance and beauty of the sun—desire has allotted.

Translation by Carson

When you lie dead, no one will remember you

For you have no share in the Muses’ roses.

No, flitting aimlessly about,

You will wildly roam,

a shade amidst the shadowy dead.

Translated by Dubnoff

Once again Love, that loosener of limbs,

bittersweet and inescapable, crawling thing,

seizes me.

Translation by Rayor.

Rayor, Diane. Sappho: A New Translation of the Complete Works, Cambridge University Press, 2014. Introduction & notes by André Lardinois.

I simply wish to die. 
Weeping she left me.

and told me this, too:
We've suffered terribly, Sappho.
I leave you against my will.

I answered: Go happily
and remember me -- 
you know how we cared for you.

If not, let me remind you
*
. . . the lovely times we shared.

Many crowns of violets, 
roses, and crocuses together
. . . you put on by my side

and many scented wreaths
woven from blossoms
around your delicate throat.

And . . . with pure, sweet oil
[for a queen] . . .
you anointed . . .

and on soft beds
. . . delicate . . .
you quenched your desire.

Not any . . .
no holy site . . .
we left uncovered,

no grove . . .        dance
                              . . . sound

Translation by Rayor. 

Rayor, Diane. Sappho: A New Translation of the Complete Works, Cambridge University Press, 2014. Introduction & notes by André Lardinois.

Some men say and army of horses and some men say an army on foot
and some men say an army of ships is the most beautiful thing
on the black earth. But I say it is
              what you love.

Easy to make this understood by all.
For she who overcame everyone
in beauty (Helen)
             left her fine husband

behind and went sailing to Troy.
Not for her children nor her dear parents
had she a thought, no-
                 ]led her astray

                               ]for
                               ]lightly
                 ]reminded me now of Anaktoria
                 who is gone.

I would rather see her lovely step
and the motion of light on her face
than chariots of Lydians or ranks
                 of footsoldiers in arms

] not possible to happen
] to pay for a share
]
]
]
]
]
toward[

]
]
]
out of the unexpected.

Translation by Carson

Sappho, , and Anne Carson. If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho. , 2002.

Welcome to Sweetbitter, a podcast where we investigate the truth and controversy surrounding Sappho her life, the Isle of Lesbos and her relevance today, Each episode we'll deep dive into a part of the mystery of Sappho with insights from academics, translators, performers, and poets.