by Ira Woodward

Created on: June 17, 2008   Last Updated: August 18, 2011

First of all, there is a logistical problem with discussing Sappho's poetry. She wrote it in ancient Greek, and a variety of people have translated it into English over the years. My Google search for "more than a hero Sappho" turned up countless translations dating back hundreds of years (see especially http://www.bopsecrets.org/gateway/passages/sappho.ht m). I felt it necessary to troll through these before settling on one to review. Not being able to speak a word of any kind of Greek myself, I settled on one that struck me as interesting. Here it is:

He is a god in my eyes, that man,
Given to sit in front of you
And close to himself sweetly to hear
The sound of you speaking.
Your magical laughter this I swear
Batters my heart my breast astir
My voice when I see you suddenly near
Refuses to come.
My tongue breaks up and a delicate fire
Runs through my flesh; I see not a thing
With my eyes, and all that I hear
In my ears is a hum.
The sweat runs down, a shuddering takes
Me in every part and pale as the drying
Grasses, then, I think I am near
The moment of dying.
Translation Paul Roche (1966)

This poem is quite good. Sappho provides very strong imagery to convey exactly the sensations of jealousy. She calls to my mind those moments when I have felt jealous, and thus I think succeeds at her goals. The poem flows well, giving us context in the first stanza, and then moving quickly to a description of the various sensations of jealousy, and culminating in the most intense feeling of the poem: feeling dead.

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