She is all white. 

The gems flash: 

We see Sappho’s face in her hand mirror, 

the faces of her girls around her, 

girls singing.

 

 

 

Mytilene

O

O

ne of my girls has had a birthday. It should have been a happy day. There were garlands, songs, dances... Then, someone came to me, brimming with the amusing story: Kleis has been heard to say that she doesn’t know how old she is!

“I’ve had so many double birthdays, I’ve lost count,” were the words re­peated to me.

Why do we wish to be older, younger, always in protest? Why are we never satisfied?

I wish there were no birthdays.

P

P

For several days, Kleis and I have sailed, our boat a good fishing boat, cap­tained by a young man named Phaon.

It was our first excursion around the whole island, in years. We sailed past Malea Point to Eresos, to Antiss, then Methymn, and round our island, back to Mytilene. I have never seen the water so calm. Probably because of the recent hot spell, the captain said.

What a peaceful island, our Lesbos... We saw Mt. Ida, olive groves, cypress, temples, bouldered shores, goatherds, date palms, 

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