My knees do not carry

We are come again
To love's desire.
Stricken by you,
Paingiver,
My knees do not carry.

Mythweaving
We speak to each other
In thinvoiced
Ghostly
Soundbytes.

Be my ally.
Speak to me
Clearsounding.
Make your voice as fat and full
As a plum.

I am swollen with blame
And you have the salve:
Pour it.

I want to suffer.
In myself I am
Aware of this.

But still
Let there exist for us not one single
Further sorrow.
Let us be delivered
Undamaged
From every care.

- - After Sappho