On the throne of many hues, Immortal Aphrodite,
child of Zeus, weaving wiles: I beg you,
do not break my spirit, O Queen,
with pain or sorrow
but come–if ever before from far away
you heard my voice and listened,
and leaving your father’s
golden home you came,
your chariot yoked with lovely sparrows
drawing you quickly over the dark earth
in a whirling cloud of wings down
the sky through midair,
suddenly here. Blessed One, with a smile
on your deathless face, you ask
what have I suffered again
and why do I call again
and what in my wild heart do I most wish
would happen: “Once again who must I
persuade to turn back to your love?
Sappho, who wrongs you?
If now she flees, soon she’ll chase.
If rejecting gifts, then she’ll give.
If not loving, soon she’ll love
even against her will.”
Come to me now–release me from these
troubles, everything my heart longs
to have fulfilled, fulfill, and you
be my ally.