Φαίνεταί μοι κῆνος ἴσος θέοισιν ἔμμεν’ ὤνηρ, ὄττις ἐναντιός τοι ἰσδάνει καὶ πλάσιον ἆδυ φωνεί- σας ὐπακούει καὶ γελαίσας ἰμέροεν, τό μ’ ἦ μὰν καρδίαν ἐν στήθεσιν ἐπτόαισεν, ὠς γὰρ ἔς σ’ ἴδω βρόχε’ ὤς με φώναι- σ’ οὐδ’ ἔν ἔτ’ είκει, ἀλλ ἄκαν μὲν γλῶσσα ἔαγε λέπτον δ’ αὔτικα χρῶι πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμηκεν, ὀππάτεσσι δ’ οὐδ’ ἔν ὄρημμ’, ἐπιρρόμ- βεισι δ’ ἄκουαι, έκαδε μ’ ἴδρως ψῦχρος κακχέεται τρόμος δὲ παῖσαν ἄγρει, χλωροτέρα δὲ ποίας ἔμμι, τεθνάκην δ’ ὀλίγω ‘πιδεύης φαίνομ' ἐμ' αὔτᾳ. ἀλλὰ πὰν τόλματον ἐπεὶ [] καὶ πένητα [] ... | Ille me par esse deo videtur, ille, si fas est, superare divos qui sedens adversus identidem te spectat et audit dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te, Lesbia, adspexi, nihil est super mi vocis in ore, lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus flamma demanat, sonitu suopte tintinnant aures, gemina teguntur lumina nocte. Otium, Catulle, tibi molestum est: otium exsultas nimiumque gestis. Otium et reges prius et beatas perdidit urbes. |
Φαίνεταί μοι κῆνος ἴσος θέοισιν ἔμμεν’ ὤνηρ, ὄττις ἐναντιός τοι ἰσδάνει καὶ πλάσιον ἆδυ φωνεί- σας ὐπακούει καὶ γελαίσας ἰμέροεν, τό μ’ ἦ μὰν καρδίαν ἐν στήθεσιν ἐπτόαισεν, ὠς γὰρ ἔς σ’ ἴδω βρόχε’ ὤς με φώναι- σ’ οὐδ’ ἔν ἔτ’ είκει, ἀλλ ἄκαν μὲν γλῶσσα ἔαγε λέπτον δ’ αὔτικα χρῶι πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμηκεν, ὀππάτεσσι δ’ οὐδ’ ἔν ὄρημμ’, ἐπιρρόμ- βεισι δ’ ἄκουαι, έκαδε μ’ ἴδρως ψῦχρος κακχέεται τρόμος δὲ παῖσαν ἄγρει, χλωροτέρα δὲ ποίας ἔμμι, τεθνάκην δ’ ὀλίγω ‘πιδεύης φαίνομ' ἐμ' αὔτᾳ. ἀλλὰ πὰν τόλματον ἐπεὶ [] καὶ πένητα [] ... | Peer of the gods, the happiest man I seem Sitting before thee, rapt at thy sight, hearing Thy soft laughter and they voice most gentle, Speaking so sweetly. Then in my bosom my heart wildly flutters, And, when on thee I gaze never so little, Bereft am I of all power of utterance, My tongue is useless. There rushes at once through my flesh tingling fire, My eyes are deprived of all power of vision, My ears hear nothing by sounds of winds roaring, And all is blackness. Down courses in streams the sweat of emotion, A dread trembling o'erwhelms me, paler than I Than dried grass in autumn, and in my madness Dead I seem almost. |
How about Greek translations of the same poem?
On another note, yesterday our friend whose acute interest in Sappho got this conversation started probably made one of the most legendary presents in modern history :-)You're referring, of course, to our friend stupor (https://www.translatum.gr/forum/index.php?topic=35468.0)? ((-:
The reason I like it is partly that it seems to be answered better than the usual reading by 'phainom' em' autai' - I seem to myself, vs he seems to himself.Good point. Many thanks for the info!
I shall tell you more about it when it's accepted for publication!We'll look forward to that!