He seems to me equal to gods that man
whoever he is who opposite you
sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking
and lovely laughing--oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
is left in me
no: tongue breaks and thinand cold sweat holds me and shaking
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears
grips me all, greener than grass
I am and dead--or almost
I seem to me.
Sappho
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