Educated Insolence

ἐν δ’ ύδωρ ψῦχρο«ν» κελὰδει δι’ ὔσδων / μαλίνων, βρόδοισι δὲ παῖς ὀ χώρος / εσκίαστ’, αἰθυσσομένων δὲ φύλλων / κώμα καταιριοω· (Sappho 2).

“And in it [the grove] cold water makes a clear sound through / apple branches and with roses the whole place / is shadowed and down from radiant-shaking leaves / sleep comes dropping.”

In my opinion, no one (besides Lord Byron or Mary Oliver) will ever hold a candle to the command of words that Sappho has. The epitome of poetry, which I can only hope to aspire to as I write my own.