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Sappho - Like the gods. . .
Work rating: Medium

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who 
sits there facing you—any man whatever—
listening from closeby to the sweetness of your 
voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter: yes, that—I swear it— 
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since 
once I look at you for a moment, I can`t
speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a
subtle fire races inside my skin, my
eyes can`t see a thing and a whirring whistle 
thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes 
ahold of me all over: I`m greener than the 
grass is and appear to myself to be little
short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor
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