他们差你来向我辞别，不，不要摇头;我看见你的眼睛闪烁着泪水。萨福，你刚才来这儿的时候看见了太阳，当你离开我的时候，所有闪闪发光的大草地都会轻轻地笑，太阳会像一个情人一样，用看不见的温暖的手臂环绕着你，用光装饰你。虽然我躺着一动不动，但我走向黑暗。如果我能看见太阳，我就会抬起头来喝光，直到我的眼睛失明;我要跪下来亲吻草叶，我要用这样的声音呼唤鸟儿，带着这样的渴望，颤抖而敏锐，让它们飞向我，在我的胸脯上永远飞向树梢和田野，我给了它们一个吻。萨福，告诉我，我有时不公平吗?我的眼睛，我的嘴巴，我爱风的头发，难道它们不值得爱的气息吹向它们吗?然而他已经过去了，今夜，当暮色笼罩天空时，他还会过去;但我看不见。 I shall have gone forever. Hold my hands, Hold fast that Death may never come between; Swear by the gods you will not let me go; Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love -- But you will not assuage him. He alone Of all the gods will take no gifts from men. I am afraid, afraid. Sappho, lean down. Last night the fever gave a dream to me, It takes my life and gives a little dream. I thought I saw him stand, the man I love, Here in my quiet chamber, with his eyes Fixed on me as I entered, while he drew Silently toward me -- he who night by night Goes by my door without a thought of me -- Neared me and put his hand behind my head, And leaning toward me, kissed me on the mouth. That was a little dream for Death to give, Too short to take the whole of life for, yet I woke with lips made quiet by a kiss. The dream is worth the dying. Do not smile So sadly on me with your shining eyes, You who can set your sorrow to a song And ease your hurt by singing. But to me My songs are less than sea-sand that the wind Drives stinging over me and bears away. I have no care what place the grains may fall, Nor of my songs, if Time shall blow them back, As land-wind breaks the lines of dying foam Along the bright wet beaches, scattering The flakes once more against the laboring sea, Into oblivion. What care have I To please Apollo since Love hearkens not? Your words will live forever, men will say "She was the perfect lover" -- I shall die, I loved too much to live. Go Sappho, go -- I hate your hands that beat so full of life, Go, lest my hatred hurt you. I shall die, But you will live to love and love again. He might have loved some other spring than this; I should have kept my life -- I let it go. He would not love me now tho' Cypris bound Her girdle round me. I am Death's, not Love's. Go from me, Sappho, back to find the sun. I am alone, alone. O Cyprian...