Paul, I wonder if you perhaps know my professor Alan Shapiro? I think he might have been at Berkeley for a while, knew Tim Steele (?) and others there, & probably Powell as well, since he has praised his poetry in class very highly, though I think he might have found the man somewhat hard to get along with. Anyway, to my recollection of Fragment 16, the one you posted, his translation is very accurate; & here's another one of his Sapphos, which fills in some fragmentary Greek text but otherwise seems to my possibly spotty memory admirably faithful. I forget which fragment number this is; the editor calls it "The Anactoria Poem":
Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers,
others call a fleet the most beautiful of
sights the dark earth offers, but I say it's what-
ever you love best.
And it's easy to make this understood by
everyone, for she who surpassed all human
kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her
husband--that best of
men--went sailing off to the shores of Troy and
never spent a thought on her child or loving
parents: when the goddess seduced her wits and
left her to wander,
she forgot them all, she could not remember
anything but longing, and lightly straying
aside, lost her way. But that reminds me
now: Anactória,
she's not here, and I'd rather see her lovely
step, her sparkling glance and her face than gaze on
all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and
glittering armor.
And another Powell, Fragment 1:
Artfully adorned Aphrodite, deathless
child of Zeus and weaver of wiles I beg you
please don't hurt me, don't overcome my spirit,
goddess, with longing,
but come here, if ever at other moments
hearing these my words from afar you listened
and responded: leaving your father's house, all
golden, you came then,
hitching up your chariot: lovely sparrows
drew you quickly over the dark earth, whirling
on fine beating wings from the heights of heaven
down through the sky and
instantly arrived - and then O my blessed
goddess with a smile on your deathless face you
asked me what the matter was this time, what I
called you for this time,
what I now most wanted to happen in my
raving heart: "Whom this time should I persuade to
lead you back again to her love? Who now, oh
Sappho, who wrongs you?
If she flees you now, she will soon pursue you;
if she won't accept what you give, she'll give it;
if she doesn't love you, she'll love you soon now,
even unwilling."
Come to me again, and release me from this
want past bearing. All that my heart desires to
happen - make it happen. And stand beside me,
goddess, my ally.
I'll post again with rival versions of these same poems by Richmond Lattimore, for comparison's sake.
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