Eros, again now, the loosener of limbs troubles me,

Bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable creature….

Οἶον τὸ γλυκύμαλον ἐρεύθεται ἄκρῳ ἐπ᾽ ὔσδῳ ἄκρον ἐπ᾽ ἀκροτάτῳ λελάθοντο δὲ μαλοδρόπνεσ, οὐ μὰν ἐκλελάθοντ᾽, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἐδύναντ᾽ ἐπίκεσθαι

You are, I think, an evening star,
the fairest of all the stars.

I declare
That later on,
Even in an age unlike our own,
Someone will remember who we are.

You will have memories
Because of what we did back then
When we were new at this,

Yes, we did many things, then - all
Beautiful...

The inextinguishable lesbian spark. You've surely heard about it? The one that was first ignited at Lesbos, because Sappho was so sad every time a young woman left the academy that she wrote her a poem. Fancy being sad because someone leaves! Perverted, that's what I call it. Don't you?