Bride, around whom the rosy leaves are flying,
Sweet image of the Cyprian undying,
The bed awaits thee; go, and with him lying,
Give to the groom thy sweetness, softly sighing.
May Hesperus in gladness pass before thee,
And Hera of the silver throne bend o'er thee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is not any poem or gragment in Sappgo's saved like this or with such a content.
You are wrong, human.