It’s no use
Mother dear, I
can’t finish my
weaving.
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy.
— Sappho, “Blame Aphrodite” (via sharingpoetry)
It’s no use
Mother dear, I
can’t finish my
weaving.
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy.