整夜没有睡到我的眼皮上，没有滴露，也没有抖开一根羽毛，却紧闭双唇，用铁一般的眼睛站着注视着我。我睡不着觉，一个异象从海上飞来，轻抚我，轻抚我的眼睑和嘴唇;我也充满了幻想，看见白皙的阿芙罗狄蒂，看见头发散去，脚没穿鞋，在西方的水面上闪耀着夕阳的火焰;看见那不情愿的脚，那吸引着她的鸽子扑腾的羽毛，总是望着，仰着脖子望着，望着莱斯博斯岛，望着米蒂利尼照耀着的山峦;听到她身后爱的飞脚在水面上突然发出雷鸣，就像大风张开的翅膀发出的雷鸣。于是女神从她的地方逃走了，周围传来可怕的脚步声和翅膀拍击的声音;而在她们歌声的喧嚣声后面，暮色降临了。啊，歌声，啊，欢乐，激情!所有的爱都哭泣着，倾听着;戴着王冠的缪斯九位女神站在阿波罗周围，痛苦得难受; Fear was upon them, While the tenth sang wonderful things they knew not. Ah the tenth, the Lesbian! the nine were silent, None endured the sound of her song for weeping; Laurel by laurel, Faded all their crowns; but about her forehead, Round her woven tresses and ashen temples White as dead snow, paler than grass in summer, Ravaged with kisses, Shone a light of fire as a crown for ever. Yea, almost the implacable Aphrodite Paused, and almost wept; such a song was that song. Yea, by her name too Called her, saying, 'Turn to me, O my Sappho;' Yet she turned her face from the Loves, she saw not Tears for laughter darken immortal eyelids, Heard not about her Fearful fitful wings of the doves departing, Saw not how the bosom of Aphrodite Shook with weeping, saw not her shaken raiment, Saw not her hands wrung; Saw the Lesbians kissing across their smitten Lutes with lips more sweet than the sound of lute-strings, Mouth to mouth and hand upon hand, her chosen, Fairer than all men; Only saw the beautiful lips and fingers, Full of songs and kisses and little whispers, Full of music; only beheld among them Soar, as a bird soars Newly fledged, her visible song, a marvel, Made of perfect sound and exceeding passion, Sweetly shapen, terrible, full of thunders, Clothed with the wind's wings. Then rejoiced she, laughing with love, and scattered Roses, awful roses of holy blossom; Then the Loves thronged sadly with hidden faces Round Aphrodite, Then the Muses, stricken at heart, were silent; Yea, the gods waxed pale; such a song was that song. All reluctant, all with a fresh repulsion, Fled from before her. All withdrew long since, and the land was barren, Full of fruitless women and music only. Now perchance, when winds are assuaged at sunset, Lulled at the dewfall, By the grey sea-side, unassuaged, unheard of, Unbeloved, unseen in the ebb of twilight, Ghosts of outcast women return lamenting, Purged not in Lethe, Clothed about with flame and with tears, and singing Songs that move the heart of the shaken heaven, Songs that break the heart of the earth with pity, Hearing, to hear them.