Sappho: Fragment 31

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

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