Ode to Aphrodite by Sappho

Intricate, immortal Aphrodite,
snare-weaver, child of Zeus, I implore you,
do not tame my spirit, great lady,
with pain and sorrow.

But come to me now, if ever before you
heard my voice from afar and,
leaving your father’s house,
yoked golden chariot and came.

Beautiful sparrows swiftly brought you
over the dark earth, with a quick flutter
of wings from the sky’s height through the clean air.
They were quick in coming.

You, blessed goddess, a smile on your divine face,
asked what did I suffer, once again this time,
and why did I call, once again this time, 

and what did I in my frenzied heart
most want to happen. Whom am I
to persuade, once again this time,
to lead to your affection.
Who, O Sappho, does you wrong?

For one who flees will soon pursue,
one who rejects gifts will soon be making
offers, and one who does not love will soon
be loving, even against her will.

Come to me even now,
release me from these mean anxieties,
and do what my heart wants done.
You yourself be my ally.

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(from Jonathan Culler’s Theory of the Lyric. Culler modifies a translation found in John Winkler’s The Constraints of Desire)