You may forget but
let me tell you
this: someone in
some future time
will think of us
It's no use
Mother dear, I
can't finish my
weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
In the spring twilight
the full moon is shining:
Girls take their places
as though around an altar
It was you, Atthis, who said
"Sappho, if you will not get
up and let us look at you
I shall never love you again!
"Get up, unleash your suppleness,
lift off your Chian nightdress
and, like a lily leaning into
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