Thursday, April 23, 2015

Let me tell you this:

Here is another of my mother's scanned slides, cropped and changed to black and white.
Christmas in Shaker Heights: my beloved youngest brother, Robert, holds a book-gift and smiles
at the youngest of us, my sister Marjory. I think this is Christmas, 1962,
in the house on Lee Road in Shaker Heights, Ohio. I was in the hospital having my back fixed.
The classy French-style chair was one of a pair that never seemed to me to go with
any of our other furniture, except the French Provincial sofa that was purchased 
at the same time and still lives in Susan's house, I think.


You may forget but

let me tell you 
this: someone in
some future time
will think of us

Sappho
translated by Mary Barnard

Sappho; a new translation,
University of California Press, 1958, page 60.

The story of the recovery of fragment's of Sappho's poetry on pieces of papyrus is wonderful. One fragment was discovered 
very recently. Many poets feel that these
versions by Mary Barnard capture 
the spirit of the Sappho's poems best.

Sometimes fragments are all we have: I recently posted

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