Sappho translations

With Sappho so much in the news, I thought it might be time to post a few translations I have made of Sappho's works over the years. I think Sappho must have been an extraordinary woman, certainly her poetry warrants that tag. It still sings and the possibilities in translation, as for much poetry, are very broad.

I have translated some poems, on other occasions I have written poems that have been inspired by her. I would like to translate more of her work, but as writer Grace Paley said, 'Art is long and life is short.'

The first poem of Sappho’s that I translated is fragment 168b (translated around 1982). I wrote the text on the front of a T-shirt in Greek and the translation on the back. Other than that, it is previously unpublished. I was studying Ancient Greek at the time.

the moon

and the Pleiades

both have set

night is half gone

still

I sleep alone

In 1991 I was reading Gillian Spragg’s essay ‘Divine Visitations: Sappho’s Poetry of Love’ (1991) which includes a translation of the following poem. As I read, for the first time it hit me that this could be a poem about a seizure. The following set of three poems are really variations rather than translations. They were published in my collection, Bird and other writings on epilepsy (1993).

seized

variations on Sappho’s fragment 31

i

To me you are divine

as you play your role–

speaking, listening,

laughing that laugh

running through me

like an electric current.

The shock, the jolt as I

watch. My voice

dries up; it is hot like sand

in a desert creekbed

and it slides slowly away

from me. My eyes die,

I hear nothing as

lava flows under

my skin. Seized,

my mind flees–

down, down into the

underworld, into a

kind of death.

ii

I watch her, your public face;

I hear her speak the expected words

of coupling love.

Her smile eats at me like acid;

my ribs are scorched and the

heart jolts inside its cage.

When I look at you, heart

emptied, voice hollowed,

now meaningless

I speak empty breath.

My tongue fallow, no

harvest of words

only froth, a dead-eyed

gaze and muscles that

cringe convulsively.

My mind quivers, retreats

toward death, and I know

that only death is an end.

iii

Fortune has deserted me today

as I watch the one sitting

face to face with you

Across the room I listen as

words and laughter fall

from your lips

My heart becomes a

jolting carriage and my

tongue is electrified by

fear. Fire runs through

my veins and I can no longer

hear your words, your laughter,

for the humming in my ears.

I convulse, and sweat

runs cool down my face,

pale as dry summer grass-

death would be better

than this jealousy.

In 2010, I was back studying another Ancient language, Sanskrit and I felt able to try my hand at some translations, in part because I understood the process of translation better; and secondly because as a poet, I had honed my skills (although that is a life-long undertaking). The first two poems (translation and variation) were published in Sinister Wisdom: Lesbian Poetry–When? And Now! Number 81, 2010. The two variations on Sappho’s poems were published in my collection Cow (2011). The translation of fragment 22 has not been previously published.

fragment 16 by Sappho

This is one of Sappho’s best-known poems. I first read it as grafitti on a toilet wall in an inner urban suburb of Melbourne in the mid-1970s. Underground poetry always survives. Between then and 1979 when I began studying Ancient Greek a whole new world opened for me. But it’s really only now that I appreciate the craft of Sappho’s poems. In the variation that follows, the cow, Anaktoria is responding to Sappho’s fragment 16.

translation

some say an army of horses some say an army of feet

some say an army of ships is the most beautiful thing

on this black earth but I say it’s whom-

ever you love

easy to make this thought catch

for she who was more beautiful

than all of humanity

left her sublime husband behind

to sail to Troy

neither children nor loved parents

could she perceive

but deceived – she went

                        for

lightly

recall to me now Anaktoria

no longer here

what Anaktoria says to her

when the herds are running the ground thrumming

sunlight scaling every beam of dust like a horde

on the move your finest poems are for me

that’s what I love best

when the sun strikes your coat roan with heat

we all stand dazzled  by your beauty

and none of us will ever abandon you

you the brightest of us all

when the summer grass grows pale

and the longing strikes up again

I think of you standing always knowing

which way to go

your doubts are few your face dewy

in the morning light and your eyes

brown soft but your glance as sharp

as thorns

so Sappho let me follow you on this track

into that thicket by the river

let us stand flank by flank our love

our armour

fragment 22 by Sappho

Anne Carson writes that Gongyla means yoke-mate (note 22.10 p. 363). In Sanskrit the root verb √yuj means to yoke, harness or fasten. It can be applied to two cows yoked together; it can also mean unite or connect in a relationship or through longing.  Carson says the first two letters of Gongyla’s name are missing from this poem. Sanskrit for cow is gau/go-: go-, the two missing letters, like lesbians, are missing from history.

translation

deeds

limb test…

cry out

if not wintry torment

ruthless

            sing of

Gongyla          Abanthis          grasp

the harp –and again – longing

wafts all around

your loveliness for when you saw her

garment you were excited

and I thrilled

Cyprus-born Aphrodite condemned me

for praying one word:

want

           

what Gongyla says

when winter ices my coat

when it strikes

the heart

whatever can you do–

she has made it public

her longing for me

she wants me to sing

my heart pain

she says Aphrodite

is hard hearted

her love searing

but all I want

is want

Sappho in slippers

This final poem is my most recent translation, made while I was in Rome during 2013. It is of Sappho’s recently found poem from 2004. I found this a fascinating poem to translate because it’s both so very Sappho in style, but its content is surprising because until now we have thought of Sappho as a youngish woman (perhaps 40ish at the most). But in ths poem she writes of age and this is a subject that so many women poets have avoided because women and aging are not meant to go together. I feel my aching shoulder (which troubled me recently for months) and I can understand that her knees perhaps don’t do the dance as well now. But she confronts age, and says we have to face it. In this poem, it is the aging Tithonos, a man, who feels his immortality as a burden against his ever-youthful wife, Dawn, Eos, the rising sun. This poem will be published in my forthcoming, Lupa and Lambda.

Lost text: Aeolic Lesbian: Psappha in slippers

circa 565 BCE

you young ones bound to the Muses’ lovely sweet-smelling gifts

you are fervent songsters your voices clear as the lyre

once my body was soft tender to touch but old age

has taken its pleasure with me turning my black hair white

my heart is made heavy    my knees that in youth were as light-

footed as the dancing deer    no longer carry me

now I sigh in surprise    but what am I to do?

aging is human    there is no way out

even Tithonos who was borne to the far ends

of the earth by lovesick Dawn

young and enchanting at first    was haunted

by grumbling old age despite his immortal wife

See also: 

Gillian Spragg. 1991. ‘Divine Visitations: Sappho’s Poetry of Love’. In Elaine Hobby and Chris White (eds.) What Lesbians Do in Books. London: The Women’s Press.

Both photos taken by me at the Capitoline Museum in Rome, © 2013. I like that the second view is angled differently, a bit like the new poems by Sappho.

La Donna Lupa Paleolitica

What goes on in the minds of museum curators? I have puzzled over this question many times in the last few months as I have visited more museums than I usually do and been confronted by so many omissions, distortions and downright ignorance or sloppiness.

In Siem Reap, Cambodia a brand new museum, and the only room without labels or video is the one that depicts the apsaras. In the museum in Gela, Sicily the displays in the room with the most remarkable Medusa, are in darkness until I accidentally trip an alarm by getting too close to the display. At Mnajdra, Malta female figures are given non-gendered labels and compared to sumo wrestlers. This latter is an egregious distortion which can be put directly at the feet of the school headed by Colin Renfrew who is against all suggestion that women might have played significant roles in prehistoric and ancient societies. But he allows his photo to grace those same walls.

I visited the National Archaeological Museum in Ancona specifically to see the figure called La Donna Lupo Paleolitico. My first puzzle here is why the words used are 'lupo paleolitico' and not 'lupa paleolitica' which seems to me more accurate both in terms of content and grammar.I've had several thoughts on the matter:

Is it because women way back then were in such awe of the male of every species that the wolf head must be a male wolf?

Is it simply inculcated heteronormativity?

Is it because the word 'lupa' also connotes 'prostitute'?

 

Whatever the case, I am referring to her here as La Donna Lupa Paleolitica.

I travelled on the train from Rome at night, visited the museum in the morning and back to Rome that afternoon. It was worth making this flying visit because although the images on the internet are as good or better than anything I can manage, simply seeing this tiny art object is an experience in itself.

I went because this wolf woman, La Donna Lupa Paleolitica, is 300,000 years old. When I saw this the first time, I thought it must have been a typographic mistake. Most European paleolithic art is around 30,000 years old from what is called the Upper Paleolithic. Her provenance is from what is called the Lower Paleolithic (or paleolitico inferiore) which covers the time period 120,000 years to 700,000 years Before Present (BP).

I was wandering around the museum and couldn't find her, so I asked an attendant. She took me through four rooms into a tiny fifth room on the second floor and there she was. If I had not known about her, I probably would not have noticed her among the rocks and flints. If I hadn't asked, I'd have had trouble even though I have a good nose for these things.

She is around 10-12 cm high (4-5 inches). Her image is carved on a rock, or pebble as it is called in the museum brochure. You have to look closely to distinguish the form and this is most easily done by starting from her feet. Her calves and thighs are clearly drawn and across her thighs are some scorings (or scarrings?). Above and clearly delineated as an inverted triangle is the public area and in the centre a tiny diamond shape (could that be the clitoris?).

Above is the belly, slightly rounded though this woman is certainly not overfed. On the belly are visible 10 or 11 small marks. Again these could be scars or have some connection to counting. They do not appear to be randomly placed as they are evenly spaced in two roughly parallel lines.

Her arms are crossed in the form of an X above her belly. The fingers of one hand are clearly visible.  Her arms cover her belly but not her breasts and at her throat is a faintly visible what might be a pendant.

The most surprising element of this image, which up to this point is doggedly realistic, is that the woman has the head of a wolf. The two ears are up and alert, a single open eye is visible in the profile and the snout lifted to the air as if engaged in sniffing the wind.

If you turn the rock/pebble over there is another head carved there. At first I thought it a cow's head, but looking again it could be either a bear or another rounder-nosed wolf. Please let me know what you think.

You would think that such an incredible work of art would be deserving of a sign. No. Nothing. Just a small sign that says Tolentino (MC), presumably where she was found. Nothing to give her age, in itself extraordinary. And while she is named on the museum website, the museum itself is yet to catch up. I read through the illuminated signage for all the paleolithic and neolithic eras and no mention of her there and nothing even about the 300,000 year time period. It seems to me that the museum is doing itself a disservice, but worse is that women once again are. made invisible. If I were this museum's curator, I would be having exceptionally good photographs made of this. I would give her a glass case (with a few friendly companions) that named, dated and identified her.

I'd also be asking questions like:

what implement was used to make this drawing on this stone?

what can this image tell us about women in this society?

what can it tell us about the relationship between humans/women and animals/wolves?

what might this image mean?

is it suggestive of a spiritual or simply material connection between wolves and women?

what does the second head represent?

are there other similar works of art from this period?

Instead of a helmeted male head on the museum brochure, I would have a detail from this. Her age, in itself, ought to be enough reason for her to be widely known. The quality of the art is something to be admired.

 

The second oldest item in the museum is a 28,000-year-old female figure referred to as a Venere/Venus. She was found in a cave at Frasassi. She does have some prominence in the room before la donna lupa, as well as a sign and a name.

What is it that 'they' don't want us to know or think?

I apologise that these photos are not all that good. The conditions were not ideal. There is a photo available if you visit the following site (in Italian): http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Museo_archeologico_nazionale_delle_Marche

Thanks to Rosanna Fiocchetto for telling me about La Donna Lupa Paleolitica.

The above photos © Susan Hawthorne, 2014