I listen for his footsteps

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who 
sits there facing you-any man whatever-
listen from close by to the sweetness of
       your voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter. Yes that-I swear it
sets the heart to shaking inside my breast
since once I look upon you for a moment
       I can't speak any longer

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once
subtle fire races within my skin my
eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle
      Thrums in my heart

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes
a hold on me all over. I'm greener than the 
grass is and appear to myself to be little
       short of dying

but all must be endured, since even a poor
girl such as I whose heart beats
only and forever for you and my eyes
weeping fearing that you will never be mine
       crushes my soul

I listen for his footsteps, his voice, his laugh
and for his warm loving eyes only for me
his touch giving me a tremblng feeling
as though he already arouses me
      and we are just one      

but I wait in vain, the hourglasss empties
and the candle burns low, weeping
just like me - burnt out by my love
my tears running down my face
      for I am in despair

then barely an hour later I hear a snort
of a horse, is it him at this late hour?
It is for he enters without knocking
and sees me naked waiting for him
       joyously laughing


My thanks to Sappho for writing the first four verses

Image found at https://www.flickr.com.photos/lespetitescases/36832131852