reading mary barnard's translation of sappho and dear spirits, this is wonderful poetry
it's everything i was craving, but not getting, from anne carson's (also-wonderful but very stylistically different) translations
and the mirror
not her waking,
aching body showed,
but endless forms,
from feathered fractal
edges spilling out
a snowstorm
swirling silent
in her eyes
reading mary barnard's translation of sappho and dear spirits, this is wonderful poetry
it's everything i was craving, but not getting, from anne carson's (also-wonderful but very stylistically different) translations