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Γλύκεια μᾶτερ, οὔτοι δύναμαι κρέκην τὸν ἴστον,
πόθῳ δάμεισα παῖδος βραδίναν δι' Αφρόδιταν.
Sweet Mother, I cannot weave my web, broken as I am by longing for a boy, at soft Aphrodite's will.
[As o'er her loom the Lesbian maid
In love-sick languor hung her head,
Unknowing where her fingers strayed
She weeping turned away and said—]
'Oh, my sweet mother, 'tis in vain,
I cannot weave as once I wove,