Sappho 58

                rest

for the girls

the Muses, perfumed with violet, brought gifts

                rest

and the clarifying lyre

                rest

once supple skin’s gone dry

                rest

like milk my hair has turned

my heart drags

my knees, on which I used to leap and buck, now buckle

daily I suffer this

what else could I do

no one can stop for Decrepitude

and so it is said Dawn

with her rosy wrists

            (w)rest(ed)

fine young Tithonus

to the far reaches of the earth

but old age got him good and gray in the end

the license said he had to stick around anyway