Sappho
Although they are
Although they are
only breath, words
which I command
are immortal
Blame Aphrodite
It's no use
Mother dear, I
can't finish my
weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy
I took my lyre
I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument
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