by precincts sacred to you; incense smokes on the altar,
cold streams murmur through the apple branches,
a young rose thicket shades the ground
and quivering leaves pour down deep sleep;
in meadows where horses have grown sleek
among spring flowers, dill scents the air.
Queen! Cyprian!
Fill our gold cups with love stirred into clear nectar!
- Sappho
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
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