Sappho 58
rest
for the girls
the Muses, perfumed with violet, brought gifts
rest
and the clarifying lyre
rest
once supple skin’s gone dry
rest
like milk my hair has turned
my heart drags
my knees, on which I used to leap and buck, now buckle
daily I suffer this
what else could I do
no one can stop for Decrepitude
and so it is said Dawn
with her rosy wrists
(w)rest(ed)
fine young Tithonus
to the far reaches of the earth
but old age got him good and gray in the end
the license said he had to stick around anyway
