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Frigidity 
(The Greek Anthology, V.
246)
"Call me Sappho," she said, just
before we climbed into bed. I should
have been out of there fast but then
her kisses were as soft as the skin
of those white arms winding around
me, every part soft but that
infrangible heart: hard as
diamond. The mouth too
was soft and loving but
never stopped saying:
Absolutely
no
touching
below
Sappho's
neck.
Snow-white Sappho's hell
to take except for the man
with a thirst for the cup
of that dipso down there
who strains for a sip
and swallows the air.
Sappho and Tantalus,
a classical pair.
The girl
from Lesbos
and the amorous
wreck.
Hydrophobia
(The Greek Anthology, V. 266)
The symptom's well known. Mad dog bites man.
Man fears water. Man sees wild dog
in water, cup, and well. Madman dies
of deep thirst,
raving at water.
Those love bites you gave me,
I think they were poisoned. Your teeth
sank deep and my heart drank the taint
and now I see your face in ocean
and stream and staring always from
the last cup of wine.*
For Departure
(The Greek Anthology, V.
241)
I'm about to say good-bye. Take care of yourself.
But then I bite my tongue and stay around
knowing I'd rather lie in hell than leave you.
It's night down there. The river's dark and bitter
and you're like the sunrise but daybreak's
silent so it's your voice that wakes me.
No music of the Sirens could be sweeter since
my ears are unsealed when you speak to
me alone, and then I hang on
for dear life and another dawn.
Life Everlasting
(The Greek Anthology, V. 236)
He endures, like the verb that gave him
that name: Tantalus, who has it better
in Hell. He never set eyes on you. His
hungry mouth never hung on yours
moving away
like the cup of the rose
I'm forbidden to taste.
Get drunk, Hell told him, lick up
your own tears. Swallow your tongue
like the starving, don't waste
a morsel. It's finished. There's
nothing to fear
when you're damned and the great rock
never falls. You only die once
and never again.
I'm not dead yet. But desire
destroys me. From famine and thirst
I
die
over
and over
and over again.
To Cypris
(The Greek Anthology, V.
234)
When I was young I hardened my heart
and never enrolled in
your Paphian cult.
O Goddess! I never endured
the flicks of your whip
and the pricks of your goad.
I stayed aloof
until I got old:
The neck bowed, but still proof
against those arrows
in youth
I kept sending back,
against your assault.
When I was young, I never gave in.
(You never, O Venus, got under my skin.)
So I bend to you now, Venus tout enti�re:
Have the last laugh, while gray stipples my hair.
You’ve undone
Athena once more
like the contest
long past
when you fought for
the apple of gold from
the west.
You’ve won
at the last.
O Love you win and you win
Wisdom has lost.
Just you take me in.
Paulus Silentiarius translated by Katharine
Washburn
* Goblets passed around at banquets frequently
were inscribed
with a small, obscene sketch of
lovemaking at the bottom.
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