Part 2

The river is almost dry; the brittle reeds are dying in the mud; the air burns and, far beyond the hollow banks, a clear brook flows upon the gravel.

It is there that, from morning to evening, the little naked children come to play. They bathe themselves only as high as their calves for the river is low.

But they walk in the current, sometimes slipping on the rocks, and the little boys throw water on the little girls, who laugh.

And when a troop of passing merchants lead their great white oxen to drink, they clasp their hands behind them and watch the enormous beasts.

XVIII

THE STORIES

I am loved by the little children; when they see me they run to me and cling to my tunic or clasp my legs in their little arms.

If they have gathered flowers, they give them all to me; if they have caught a beetle, they put it in my hand; if they have nothing, they caress me and make me sit before them.

Then they kiss me on the cheek, they rest their heads upon my breasts; they supplicate me with their eyes. I know well what they would say.

They would say: “Dear Bilitis, tell us, for we are quiet, the history of the hero Perseus or the death of the little Hellé.”

XIX

THE MARRIED FRIEND

Our mothers were pregnant at the same time and, this evening, she is married, Melissa, my dearest friend. The roses still lie upon the path; the torches have not yet burned out.

And I return, by the same path, with mother, and I dream. Thus, as she is now, I also will be later. Am I already a woman?

The cortège, the flutes, the nuptial song and the flowered car of the bridegroom, all the festival, some other evening, will unfold for me under the branches of the olives.

Like Melissa at this same hour, I shall unveil myself before a man, I shall know love in the night, and, later, little children will nourish themselves at my swollen breasts....

XX

CONFIDENCES

The next day I went to her house and we reddened when we saw each other. She led me into her chamber where we would be alone.

I had many things to say to her, but when I saw her I forgot them all. I did not even throw myself upon her neck, I regarded her high girdle.

I was astonished that nothing in her face had changed, that she still resembled my friend although, since the sleepless night, she had learned so many things startling to me.

Suddenly I seated myself upon her knees, took her in my arms, and whispered quickly, anxiously, into her ear. Then she laid her cheek against mine and told me all.

XXI

THE MOON WITH EYES OF BLUE

The night mingles with the hair of women and the branches of the willows. I walked at the edge of the water. Suddenly I heard singing; then only I knew I was there with young girls.

I said to them: “To whom do you sing?” They replied: “To those who return.” One awaited her father, another her brother; but she who awaited her lover was the most impatient.

They had woven for themselves crowns and garlands cut from the branches of palms and lotos drawn from the water. They rested their arms on each other’s necks and sang one after another.

I moved along the river, saddened and all alone, but in looking about me I saw that, behind the great trees, the moon with eyes of blue was guiding me.

XXII

SONG

“Shadow of the woods, whence she should come, tell me, where has my mistress gone?--She has descended upon the plain.--Plain, where has my mistress gone?--She has followed the banks of the river.”

“Fair river who hast seen her pass, tell me, is she near this place?--She has left me for the path.--Path, dost thou see her still?--She has left me for the road.”

“O white road, road of the city, tell me, where hast thou led her?--To the street of gold which enters into Sardis.--O street of light, touchest thou her naked feet?--She has entered the palace of the king.”

“O palace, splendor of the earth, return her to me.--See! She has collars on her breasts and circlets in her hair, an hundred pearls along her legs, two arms around her waist.”

XXIII

LYKAS

Come, we will go into the fields, under the thickets of juniper; we will eat honey from the hives, we will make snares for grasshoppers with the twigs of asphodels.

Come, we will go to see Lykas who tends his father’s flocks upon the slopes of shadowy Tauros. Surely he will give us milk.

Already I hear the sound of his flute. He plays most skilfully. Here are the dogs and the sheep and he himself standing against a tree. Is he not fair as Adonis!

O Lykas! give us milk. Here are figs from our fig trees. We would rest with thee. Bearded goats, do not leap, for fear of exciting the restless bucks.

XXIV

THE OFFERING TO THE GODDESS

It is not for Artemis whom they adore at Perga, this garland woven with my hands, although Artemis may be a good goddess who would guard my couches of pain.

It is not for Athena whom they adore at Sidon although she may be of ivory and of gold and carry in her hand a pomegranate which tempts the birds.

No, it is for Aphrodite whom I adore in my heart, for she only can give what my lips most need, if I hang on her sacred tree my garland of tender roses.

But I will not ask aloud that which I beg of her. I will raise myself upon my toes and confide my secret to a cleft in the bark.

XXV

THE COMPLAISANT FRIEND

The storm continued all the night. Selenis of the beautiful hair had come to spin with me. She remained for fear of the mud, and, pressed one against the other, we filled my little bed.

When girls lie together, sleep remains at the door. “Bilitis, tell me, tell me, whom lovest thou?” She slipped her leg over mine to caress me softly.

And she said, against my mouth: “I know, Bilitis, whom thou lovest. Close thine eyes, I am Lykas.” I replied, touching her: “Do I not know thou art a girl? Thy jest fits badly.”

But she replied: “In truth I am Lykas if thou wilt close thine eyes. These are his arms, these are his hands....” And tenderly, in the silence, she enchanted my reverie into a singular illusion.

XXVI

A PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE

Purified by the ritual ablutions, and clad in violet tunics, we have kissed toward the earth our hands laden with branches of olive.

“O Persephone of the Underworld, or whatever may be the name thou desirest, if this name is acceptable, hear us, O Shadowy-Haired, Queen sterile and unsmiling.

“Kokhlis, daughter of Thrasymakos, is ill, and dangerously. Do not call her yet. Thou knowest she cannot escape thee; one day, very late, thou shalt take her.

“But drag her not away so soon, O Dominatress invisible! For she weeps because of her virginity, she supplicates through our prayers, and we will give, for her deliverance, three black unshorn ewes.”

XXVII

THE GAME OF DICE

As we both loved him, we played with the dice. It was a great moment. Many of the young girls looked on.

She threw at first the cast of Kyklopes and I the cast of Solon. But she the Kallibolos and I, feeling that I lost, I prayed to the goddess.

I played, I had the Epiphenon, she the terrible cast of Kios, I the Antiteukos, she the Trikias, and I the cast of Aphrodite which won the disputed lover.

But, seeing her pale, I threw my arm about her neck and said, close to her ear (so that she alone heard me): “Do not weep, little friend, we will let him choose between us.”

XXVIII

THE DISTAFF

All the day, my mother has kept me in the gynæceum with my sisters whom I do not love and who talk among themselves in low voices. I, in a little corner, I spin my distaff.

Distaff, because I am alone with thee, it is to thee I will talk. With thy wig of white wool thou art like an old woman. Listen to me.

If I could go, I would not be here, seated in the shadow of the wall and spinning wearily. I would be sleeping with the violets upon the slopes of Tauros.

Because he is so much poorer than I, my mother will not espouse me. However, I say to thee: either I will have no wedding day or it is he who will lead me over the threshold.

XXIX

THE FLUTE

For the day of Hyacinthus he gave me a syrinx made of carefully cut reeds united with white wax which was sweet as honey to my lips.

He taught me to play, seated upon his knees; but I trembled a little. He played after me; so softly that I could scarcely hear him.

We had nothing to say to each other, so near we were, one to the other; but our songs replied to each other and, by turns, our lips touched the flute.

It has grown late, there is the song of the green frogs who begin with the night. My mother will never believe that I have stayed so long searching for my lost girdle.

XXX

THE HAIR

He said to me: “Last night I dreamed. I had thy hair about my neck. I had thy locks like a black collar about my neck and over my breast.

“I caressed them; and they were mine; and we were bound thus forever, by the same locks, mouth upon mouth, like two laurels with but one root.

“And, little by little, it seemed to me that our limbs were mingled; that I became thyself and that thou didst enter into me like my dream.”

When he had finished he softly laid his hands upon my shoulders and looked at me with so tender a regard that I lowered my eyes, shivering.

XXXI

THE CUP

Lykas saw me come to him clad only in a light scarf, for the days had become overwhelming; he wished to mould my breast which remained uncovered.

He took fine clay, kneaded in the fresh, clear water. When he laid it upon my skin I thought I should faint, for the earth was very cold.

From my moulded breast, he made a cup, round and umbilicated. He placed it in the sun to dry and tinted it with purple and ochre by pressing flowers all around it.

Then we went to the fountain which is consecrated to the nymphs and threw the cup into the current with stalks of gillyflowers.

XXXII

ROSES IN THE NIGHT

When the night mounts into the sky, the world belongs to us and to the gods. We go over the fields to the spring, the dark wood to the glades, wherever our naked feet lead us.

The little stars shine enough for such little shadows as we are. Sometimes, beneath the branches, we find sleeping hinds.

But more charming than all else, in the night, is a place known only to ourselves which attracts us across the forest: a thicket of mysterious roses.

For nothing in the world is so divine as the perfume of roses in the night. How is it that, in the time when I was alone, I never felt their intoxication?

XXXIII

REMORSE

At first I did not reply; shame flushed upon my cheeks, and the beatings of my heart hurt my breasts.

Then I resisted, I said: “No. No.” I turned away my head and the kiss did not open my lips, nor love my fast closed knees.

Then he begged my forgiveness, he kissed my hair, I felt his burning breath, and he departed.... Now, I am alone.

I regard the empty place, the deserted wood, the trampled earth. And I bite my fingers until they bleed and smother my cries in the grass.

XXXIV

THE INTERRUPTED SLEEP

All alone I fell asleep like a partridge in the heather.... The light wind, the murmuring of the waters, the sweetness of the night, all held me there.

Imprudently I slept and awakened with a cry, and I struggled, and I wept. But already it was too late. What can the hands of a child do?

He would not leave me. Rather, with greater tenderness, he pressed me closer to him, and I saw in all the world neither the earth nor the trees but only the light in his eyes....

To thee, Cypris victorious, I consecrate these offerings still moist with the dew, vestiges of the pains of virginity, witnesses of my sleep and of my resistance.

XXXV

THE WASH-WOMEN

Wash-women, say not that you have seen me! I confide in you; do not repeat it! Between my tunic and my breasts, I bring you something.

I am like a little frightened hen.... I know not whether I dare tell you.... My heart beats as though I would die.... It is a veil that I bring you.

A veil and the ribbons from my legs. You see: there is blood upon them. By Apollo, it was in spite of me! I defended myself well; but the man who loves is stronger than we.

Wash them well; spare neither the salt nor the chalk. I will place four oboli for you at the feet of Aphrodite; even a drachma of silver.

XXXVI

SONG

When he returned, I hid my face with my two hands. He said to me: “Fear nothing. Who has seen our kissing?--Who has seen us? the night and the moon.”

“--And the stars and the first dawn. The moon has mirrored herself in the lake and has told it to the water under the willows. The water of the lake has told it to the oar.

“And the oar has told it to the boat and the boat has told it to the fisher. Alas; alas! if that were all! But the fisher has told it to a woman.

“The fisher has told it to a woman: my father and my mother and my sisters and all Hellas will know it.”

XXXVII

BILITIS

One woman may envelop herself in white wool. Another may clothe herself in silk and gold. Another cover herself with flowers, with green leaves and grapes.

Me, I enjoy life only when naked. My lover, take me as I am: without robes or jewels or sandals. Here is Bilitis, quite alone.

My hair is black with its own blackness and my lips red of their own color. My locks float about me, free and round, like feathers.

Take me as my mother made me in a night of love long past, and if I please thee so, forget not to tell me.

XXXVIII

THE LITTLE HOUSE

The little house where he has his bed is the prettiest in the world. It is made from the branches of trees, four walls of dried earth and a roof of thatch.

I love it, for there we have slept since the nights have grown cold; and as the nights become still colder, they become longer also. When the day comes, I am very weary.

The mattress lies upon the ground; two covers of black wool shut in our bodies which warm each other. His chest presses against my breasts. My heart throbs....

He clasps me so vigorously that he bruises me, poor little girl that I am; but when he is within me I know nothing more of the world, and one could cut off my limbs without awakening me from my delight.

XXXIX

THE LOST LETTER

Alas for me! I have lost his letter. I had placed it between my skin and my strophion, under the warmth of my breast I ran; it must have fallen.

I will return on my steps: if someone has found it they will read it to my mother and I shall be whipped before my jeering sisters.

If it is a man who has found it he will give it to me; or even if he wishes to talk to me in secret, I have the means to charm it from him.

If it is a woman who has read it, O Guardian Zeus protect me! for she will tell it to all the world or she will take my lover from me.

XL

SONG

“The night is so profound that it penetrates my eyes.--Thou seest not the road. Thou wilt lose thyself in the forest.

“The noise of falling waters fills my ears.--Thou wouldst not hear the voice of thy lover though he were not twenty steps away.

“The perfume of the flowers is so powerful that I grow faint and I shall fall.--Thou wouldst not know even if he crossed thy path.

“Ah! he is very far from here, on the other side of the mountain; but I see him and I hear him and I feel him as though he touched me.”

XLI

THE OATH

“When the water of the river remounts to the snow-hidden summits: when barley and wheat is sown in the moving furrows of the sea:

“When the pines grow from the lakes and the water-lilies from the rocks: when the sun becomes black, when the moon falls upon the grass:

“Then, but only then, I will take another woman and I will forget thee, Bilitis, soul of my life, heart of my heart.”

He has said that to me, he has said that to me! What matters the rest of the world; where art thou, boundless happiness which can compare with my happiness!

XLII

THE NIGHT

It is now I who search for him. Each night, very softly, I leave the house and I go by a long path, to his meadow, to see him sleeping.

Sometimes I rest for a long time without speaking, happy merely in seeing him, and I approach my lips to his and kiss only his breath.

Then suddenly I cast myself upon him. He awakens in my arms, and he cannot raise himself, for I struggle. He gives up, and laughs, and clasps me. Thus we play in the night.

... First dawn, O wicked light, thou already! In what ever-darkened cave, on what subterranean meadow, can we love so long that we may lose remembrance of thee....

XLIII

CRADLE-SONG

Sleep: I have sent to Sardis for thy toys, and for thy raiment to Babylon. Sleep, thou art the daughter of Bilitis and a king of the rising sun.

The wood is the palace which was built for thee alone and which I have given to thee. The trunks of the pines are the columns; the high branches are the arches.

Sleep. That he may not awaken thee, I will sell the sun to the sea. The breeze from the wings of a dove is less light than thy breath.

Daughter of mine, flesh of my flesh, when thou openest thine eyes, say whether thou wishest the plain or the city or the mountain or the moon or the white cortège of the gods.

XLIV

THE TOMB OF THE NAIADS

Through the woods covered with hoarfrost, I walked; my hair before my mouth glistened with little icicles, and my sandals were heavy with clinging and heaped-up snow.

He said to me: “What seekest thou?--I follow the tracks of a satyr. His little cloven steps alternate like holes in a white mantle.” He said to me: “The satyrs are dead.

“The satyrs and the nymphs also. For thirty years there has been no winter so terrible. The track thou seest is that of a buck. But let us rest here, where their tomb is.”

And with the iron of his hoe, he broke the ice of the spring where once laughed the naiads. He lifted the great cold masses and, raising them toward the pale sky, he gazed about him.

ELEGIACS AT MYTILENE

Εὐμορφοτέρα Μνασιδίκα τᾶς ἁπαλᾶς Γυριννῶς. SAPPHO.

“Mnasidika is more shapely than the tender Gyrinno.” (F. 76. Wharton.)

XLV

TO THE VESSEL

Beautiful ship that has brought me here, along the shores of Ionia, I abandon thee to the glistening waves, and, with a light foot, I leap upon the beach.

Thou wilt return to the country where the virgin is the friend of the nymphs. Forget not to thank those invisible counsellors, and carry them, as an offering, this branch plucked by my hands.

Thou wert once a pine, and, on the mountains, the vast hot Notos shook thy branches with their squirrels and birds.

Let Boreos be now thy guide and push thee softly toward the port, black ship, escorted by dolphins, at the will of the kindly sea.

XLVI

PSAPPHA

I rub my eyes.... Is it already day, I wonder. Ah! who is this near me?... a woman?... By Paphia, I had forgotten.... O Charites; how I am shamed.

To what country am I come, and what is this island where one learns thus of love? If I were not all wearied, I would believe it a dream.... Is it possible that this is the Psappha?

She sleeps.... She is certainly beautiful, although her hair is cut like that of an athlete. But this astonishing countenance, this virile breast, and these narrow hips....

I would like to go before she awakens. Alas! I am against the wall. I must step over her. I am afraid lest I touch her hip and that she will take me as I pass.

XLVII

THE DANCE OF GLOTTIS AND KYSE

Two little girls carried me away to their house and, with the door firmly closed, they lighted the wick of a lamp and wished to dance for me.

Their cheeks were not painted and were brown as their little bellies. They pulled each other by the arms and talked at the same time in an agony of gaiety.

Seated on a mattress raised upon two trestles, Glottis sang in a sharp voice and struck the measures with her sonorous little palms.

Kyse danced shakily, then stopped, suffocated with laughter, took her sister by the breasts, bit her on the shoulder and threw her down like a goat that wishes to play.

XLVIII

COUNSELS

Then Syllikmas entered and, seeing us so familiar, seated herself upon the bench. She took Glottis upon one knee, Kyse on the other, and said:

“Come here, little one.” But I remained away. She resumed: “Art thou afraid of us? Approach, thou: these children love thee. They will teach thee something thou knowest not: the honey of the caresses of a woman.

“Man is violent and lazy. Doubtless thou knowest this. Avoid him. He has a flat chest, a rough skin, short hair, shaggy arms. But women are altogether beautiful.

“Women alone know how to love; stay with us, Bilitis, stay. And if thou hast an ardent soul, thou wilt see thy beauty, as in a mirror, upon the bodies of women, thy lovers.”

XLIX

UNCERTAINTY

I know not whether I should espouse Glottis or Kyse. As they are not like each other, one would not console me for the other, and I fear lest I choose badly.

They each hold one of my hands and one of my breasts also. But to which shall I give my mouth? to which shall I give my heart and all that one cannot divide?

It is shameful to remain thus, all three in one house. They talk of it in Mytilene. Yesterday, before the temple of Ares, a woman who passed did not greet me.