After Sappho, fragment 105

You’re like the sweetest apple on the topmost branch,
after the gang of apple-gatherers has gone,
that stays and ripens further, proudly and alone.
Did they forget you in their hasty harvesting?
Not quite. When talking idly of some other thing
they often think of you. But you were out of reach.

Listen to this poem — read by the author

Sappho, Fragment 105

οἶον τὸ γλυκύμαλον ἐρεύθεται ἄκρῳ ἐπ' ὔσδῳ,
ἄκρον ἐπ' ἀκροτάτῳ, λελάθοντο δὲ μαλοδρόπηες,
οὐ μὰν ἐκλελάθοντ', ἀλλ' οὐκ ἐδύναντ' ἐπίκεσθαι.