Ibykos Fragment 286, Circa 564 B.C.

Come spring, the grand

apple trees stand

watered by a gushing river

where the maidens’ uncut flowers shiver

and the blossoming grape vine swells

in the shadows.

Unfortunately

for me

Eros never rests

but like a Thracian tempest

ablaze with lightning

emanates from Aphrodite;

the results are frightening—

black,

bleak,

astonishing,

violently jolting me from my soles

to the height of my being.

loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Michael R. Burch is the editor of The HyperTexts, on-line at www.thehypertexts.com, where he has published hundreds of poets over the past twenty years. His poetry has been translated into eleven languages and set to music by three composers. A five-time Pushcart nominee, his poems, translations and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary journals, including Light Quarterly, The Lyric, Measure, Iambs & Trochees, Blue Unicorn, The Chariton Review, The Chimaera, Able Muse, Lucid Rhythms, Poem Today, Asses of Parnassus, Writer’s Digest—The Year’s Best Writing and The Best of the Eclectic Muse.