The New (2004) Sappho

ὒμμες πεδὰ Μοίσαν ἰοκόλπων κάλα δῶρα, παῖδες,

σπουδάσδετε καὶ τὰν φιλάοιδον λιγύραν χελύνναν·

ἒμοι δ'ἄπαλον πρὶν ποτ' ἒοντα χρόα γῆρας ἢδη

ἐπέλλαβε, λεῦκαι δ'εγένοντο τρίχες ἐκ μελαίναν·

βάρυς δέ μ'ὀ θῦμος πεπόηται, γόνα δ'οὐ φέροισι,

τἀ δή ποτα λαίψηρ' ἔον ὂρχησθ' ἲσα νεβρίοισι.

τὰ μὲν στεναχίσδω θαμέως·  ἀλλὰ τί κεν ποείην;

ἀγήραον ἄνθρωπον ἒοντ' οὐ δύνατον γένεσθαι.

κὰι γάρ ποτα Τίθωνον ἒφαντο βροδόπαχυν Αὒων

ἒρωι λαλαγεῖσαν βάμεν' εἰς ἒσχατα γᾶς φέροισαν,

ἒοντα κάλον καὶ νέον, ἀλλ' αὖτον ὔμως ἔμαρψε

χρόνωι πόλιον γῆρας, ἔχοντ' ἀθανάταν ἄκοιτιν.

Transcription:

ummes peda Moisân iokolpôn kala dôra, paides,

spoudasdete kai tan philaoidon liguran khelunnan;

emoi d’apalon prin pot’ eonta khroa gêras êdê

epellabe, leukai d’egenonto trikhes ek melainân;

barus de m’o thumos pepoêtai, gona d’ou pheroisi,

ta dê pota laipsêr’ eon orkhêsth’ isa nebrioisi.

ta men stenakhisdô thameôs; alla ti ken poeiên?

agêraon anthrôpon eont’ ou dunaton genesthai.

kai gar pota Tithônon ephanto brodopakhun Auôn

erôi lalageisan bamen’ eis eskhata gâs pheroisan,

eonta kalon kai neon, alla auton umôs emarpse

khronôi polion gêras, ekhont’ athanatan akoitin.

 

Pursue the violet-laden Muses' handsome gifts,

my children, and the loud-voiced lyre so dear to song;

But me -- my skin which once was soft is withered now

by age, my hair has turned to white which once was black,

my heart has been weighed down, my knees give no support

which once were nimble in the dance like little fawns.

How often I lament these things. But what to do?

No being that is human can escape old age.

For people used to think that Dawn with rosy arms

and loving murmurs took Tithonus fine and young

to reach the edges of the earth; yet still grey age

in time did seize him, though his consort cannot die.

(translation: Richard Janko 'Sappho Revisited,' TLS, December 23 & 30, 2005, p. 19)

 

The fragrant-scented Muses, children, their splendid gifts,

go after them, and also the lyre which loves clear voice.

My body was once soft to touch, but age took hold

of me, and my hair once black turned white.

My heart is heavy, my knees won't carry me.

They were nimble and, yes, like fawns, ready to dance.

I sigh and I moan -- but what should I hope to gain?

It's impossible for us mortals not to grow old.

Remember how they say rose-armed Dawn,

love-struck, took Tithónus,

went to the ends of the earth with him;

handsome and young he was,

but for all that, in time

grizzled old age caught him ... his mate, immortal.

(tr. BR)

 

There are obvious parallels here with Khayyam -- and of course, differences. But my reason for including this poem is that I like it -- just that -- and I feel it belongs on this site.

Here are a few words about the text, how the poem came to light and its initial treatment in the Times Literary Supplement by Martin West (‘A New Sappho Poem,’ TLS, July 15, 2005) and by Richard Janko (‘Sappho Revisited,’ TLS, December 23 & 30, 2005).

           In his TLS article Martin West describes the identification in 2004, from a 3rd century B.C.E. papyrus amid mummy wrappings, of parts of this poem. By this find, we now have 4 poems of Sappho; of the three previously existing nearly intact poems of Sappho there are an infinite number of fragments and scraps of the nine books of Sappho the ancients knew. And this fourth poem itself had existed in sketchy fashion (chiefly ends of lines, in papyrus dating from the 3^rd century C.E.). The 2004 identification allowed the two poems to form a near whole, with conjectures that could be made with some ease. Richard Janko’s suppletion of lalageisan in line 10 where there is a problem in the line is ingenious; the verb often refers to the ‘unintelligible but pleasant and repetitive sound of cicadas, song birds, frogs or waves.’ By lalageisan the happy love-cooing of Dawn foretells the transformation of Tithonus into the chirping cicada’s song. Horrible for us to contemplate that Tithonus was immortal but not ageless (Dawn had asked for immortality for Tithonus but had forgotten to ask Zeus that he not age) yet Janko reminds us that for the Greeks the cicada by rejuvenating itself (it sheds its skin) had ‘an immortality of a sort.’ For Sappho, there is the hope that her song will continue (and the song and dance of others) in spite of the inescapable aging she recognizes as the condition all humans encounter.

         I recommend both TLS articles to viewers of this site. In the autumn of 2009, The New Sappho on Old Age: Textual and Philosophical Issues was published (in paperback). The two editors and nine contributors write essays on this poem and view it, I cite the advance editorial review, as a ‘complete, gracefully spare poetic statement regarding the painful inevitability of death and aging.’  I have read that there is debate whether this poem is a complete poem or part of a longer poem yet to be discovered. I see it as a complete poem, as a ‘small masterpiece’ as Martin West referred to it.