THE SONGS OF BILITIS
Of this book, intended for private circulation, only 975 copies have
been printed, after which the type has been distributed.
This is Number 229
[Illustration]
PIERRE LOUŸS
THE SONGS OF BILITIS
Translated from the Greek
_A New Rendering in English
With Notes and Comment_
[Illustration]
PRIVATELY PRINTED
MCMXIX
THIS LITTLE BOOK OF ANTIQUE LOVE IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE YOUNG
GIRLS OF THE SOCIETY OF THE FUTURE
THE SONGS OF BILITIS
LIFE OF BILITIS
Bilitis was born at the beginning of the sixth century before our era in
a mountain village situated on the banks of the Melas, to the east of
Pamphylia. The country is stony and sad, shadowed by profound forests,
dominated by the enormous mass of Tauros; lime springs issue from the
rocks; great salty lakes abide on the heights, and the valleys are
filled with silence.
She was the daughter of a Greek and of a Phœnician woman. She seems
never to have known her father for he is not mentioned in any part of
the souvenirs of her childhood. Perhaps he died before she came into the
world. Otherwise, it would be hard to explain how she bore a Phœnician
name which her mother alone could have given her.
In this almost deserted land, she lived a tranquil life with her mother
and her sisters. Other young girls, who were her friends, lived not far
from her. On the woody slopes of Tauros, the shepherds pastured their
flocks.
In the morning, at the crow of the cock, she arose, went to the stable,
led the animals to drink and busied herself milking them. During the
day, if it rained, she remained in the gynæceum and spun wool from her
distaff. If the weather was fair, she ran in the fields and played a
thousand games, with her companions, of which she speaks.
Bilitis regarded the Nymphs with ardent piety. The sacrifices which she
offered, nearly every day, were for their fountain. She often speaks of
them but it seems that she never saw them, for she reports with so much
veneration the accounts of an old man who, one day, had surprised them.
The close of her pastoral existence was saddened by a love of which we
know little, although she speaks of it at length. She ceased to sing of
it when it became unhappy. Having become the mother of a child which she
abandoned, Bilitis quitted Pamphylia for unknown reasons and never
returned to the place of her birth.
We find her again at Mytilene where she went by way of the sea along the
fair coasts of Asia. She was then scarcely sixteen years old, according
to the conjectures of M. Heim, who established with probability some
dates in the life of Bilitis from a verse which alludes to the death of
Pittakos.
Lesbos was then the centre of the world. On the main road between
beautiful Attica and magnificent Lydia, it had for its capital a city
more elegant than Athens and more corrupt than Sardis: Mytilene, built
upon a peninsula overlooking the shores of Asia. The blue sea
encompassed the city. From the height of the temples one could
distinguish on the horizon the white line of Atarnea which was the port
of Pergamos.
The narrow streets were always encumbered by a throng resplendent in
many-colored stuffs, tunics of purple and of hyacinth, cyclas of
transparent silks, mantles trailing in the dust of the yellow shoes. The
women carried in their ears great rings of gold set with raw pearls, and
on their arms massive bracelets of silver roughly chiseled in relief.
The men themselves wore their hair brilliantly perfumed with rare oils.
The Greeks wore sandals with the ends fastened to their bare ankles by
large serpents of bright metal, while the Asiatics wore soft, tinted
boots. The passers-by stood in groups before the façades of the shops
where the goods for sale were on display: rugs of sombre colors, cloths
worked with threads of gold, jewels of amber and of ivory, according to
the quarter. The animation of Mytilene did not end with the day; there
was no hour so late that one could not hear, through the open doors, the
joyous sounds of instruments, the cries of women, the noise of dances.
Pittakos himself, who wished to give a little order to this perpetual
debauch, made a law in defense of players of the flute too young to be
employed in the nocturnal festivals; but this law, like all laws that
pretend to change the course of natural morals, determined the secrecy
but not the observance.
In a society where the husbands were occupied at night with wine and
dancing-girls, the women could not fail to unite and find, among
themselves, consolation for their solitude. Thus it was that they
softened to those delicate loves to which antiquity has given their
name, and which have, whatever men may think, more of true passion than
invoked viciousness.
At this time, Sappho was still beautiful. Bilitis knew her and speaks of
her under the name of Psappha which she bore at Lesbos. Without doubt
she was the admirable woman who taught the little Pamphilian the art of
singing in rhythmic phrases, whereby she preserved to posterity the
remembrance of her loves. Unfortunately, Bilitis has given us few
details of this woman, today so little known, and this is to be
regretted, since the least word is precious which touches that great
Inspiration. Instead, she has left us thirty elegiacs, the history of
her love for a young girl of her own age whom she calls Mnasidika, and
who lived with her. Already we knew the name of this young girl from a
verse of Sappho in which her beauty is exalted; but the name even is
doubtful, and Bergk almost thinks that she was called simply Mnais. The
songs we will read soon, prove that this hypothesis may be abandoned.
Mnasidika seems to have been a little girl, very sweet and very
innocent, one of those charming persons whose mission is simply to
permit themselves to be adored, so cherished that they make little
effort to merit that which is given them. Loves without motives last the
longest: this one endured for ten years. One knows how it was broken
through the fault of Bilitis whose excessive jealousy admitted no
eclecticism.
When she felt that nothing held her longer to Mytilene, except unhappy
memories, Bilitis made a second voyage; she went to Cypros, an island
Greek and Phœnician like Pamphylia itself, which must have recalled to
her the aspect of her native country.
It was there that Bilitis began her life for the third time and in a
manner my readers will understand with difficulty unless they recall the
point to which love was considered holy among the people of antiquity.
The courtesans of Amathus were not, like ours, lost creatures, exiled
from all worldly society; they were girls from the best families of the
city. Aphrodite had given them beauty and they thanked the goddess and
consecreated to the service of her worship the beauty they had received.
All the cities, like those of Cypros, that possessed a temple rich in
courtesans, regarded these women with careful respect.
The incomparable history of Phryne, as transmitted to us from the
Athenæum, gives some idea of the nature of this veneration. It is not
true that Hyperides stripped her naked to soften the Areopagos, and
because her crime was great: she had committed murder. The orator tore
off the top of her tunic and revealed only her breasts. And he
supplicated the judges: “Do not put to death the priestess and the
inspired of Aphrodite.”--In distinction from the other courtesans who
went out in transparent cyclas through which all the details of their
bodies appeared, Phryne wore a costume which enveloped even her hair in
a great folded vestment of which the statuettes of Tanagra have
preserved the grace. No one, unless it were her lovers, had ever seen
her arms and her shoulders, and she never appeared in the pool of the
public baths. But one day an extraordinary thing occurred. It was the
day of the festival of Eleusis; twenty thousand people had come from all
parts of Greece and were assembled on the sea-shore when Phryne advanced
to the waves: she removed her garment, she unfastened her cincture, she
removed even her under tunic, “she unrolled her hair and entered the
sea.” And in that throng stood Praxiteles who, after this living
goddess, designed the Aphrodite of Knidos; and Apelles who, from her,
revealed his Anadyomene. Admirable people, to whom naked Beauty could
appear without exciting laughter or false shame!
I would that this history were that of Bilitis, for, in translating her
songs, I have learned to love the friend of Mnasidika. Without doubt her
life was also wonderful. I regret only that she is not spoken of oftener
by ancient authors, and that those whose works have survived, give us
so few tokens of her person. Philodemos, who pillaged her twice, does
not even mention her name. In default of better anecdotes, I beg that
you will be contented with the details which she herself has given us
about her life as a courtesan. That she was a courtesan is undeniable;
and even her last songs prove that, if she had the virtues of her
vocation, she had also its worst weaknesses. But I would know only her
virtues. She was pious and skillful. She remained faithful to the temple
so long as Aphrodite consented to prolong the youth of her purest
adorer. “The day when she ceased to be loved, she ceased to write,” she
has said. Nevertheless it is difficult to admit that the songs of
Pamphylia could have been written at the epoch when the events took
place. How could a little shepherdess of the mountains learn to scan
verses according to the difficult rhythms of the Æolic delivery? It is
more reasonable to believe that, become old, Bilitis found pleasure in
singing for herself the remembrances of her childhood. We know nothing
of this last period of her life. We know not even at what age she died.
Her tomb was found by M. C. Heim at Paleo-Limisso, at the side of an
antique road, not far from the ruins of Amathus. These ruins have
almost disappeared within the last thirty years and the stones of the
house where perhaps Bilitis lived, today pave the quays of Port Said.
But the tomb was subterranean, according to the Phœnician custom, and it
had escaped even the treasure hunters.
M. Heim entered it by a narrow pit, once filled with earth, at the
bottom of which he found a walled-up door which had to be demolished.
The wide, low tomb, paved with slabs of limestone, had four walls
covered with plaques of black amphibolite, on which were graven, in
primitive capitals, all the songs we are about to read, except the three
epitaphs which decorated the sarcophagus.
There reposed the friend of Mnasidika in a great coffin of terra-cotta,
under a cover modeled in delicate sculpture which figured in the clay
the visage of the dead. The hair was painted black, the eyes half closed
and prolonged by the crayon as though she were living and the painted
cheek softened by a slight smile which brought out the lines of the
mouth. Nothing can ever tell of those lips, so clean-cut, with a soft
outward curve, united one to the other and as though intoxicated by
their own contact.
When the tomb was opened, she appeared in the state in which a pious
hand had placed her, twenty-four centuries before. Vials of perfume hung
from pegs of clay, and one of these, after so long a time, was still
fragrant. The mirror of polished silver in which Bilitis had viewed
herself, the stylus which had trailed the blue pigment over her eyelids,
were found in their place. A little naked Astarte, relic forever
precious, watched always over the skeleton ornamented with all its
jewels of gold, and white like a snow-covered branch, but so soft and so
fragile that at the first breath it mingled with the dust.
PIERRE LOUŸS.
Constantinople. August 1894.
I
BUCOLICS IN PAMPHYLIA
Ἀδύ δέ μοι τό μέλισμα, καὶ ἤν σύριγγι μελίσδω κἤν αύλῷ
λαλέω, κἤν δώνκκι, κἤν πλαγιαύλῳ.
THEOCRITOS.
“Sweet, too, is my music, whether I make
melody on pipe, or discourse on the flute, or reed,
or flageolet.”
(XX--28-29. Lang.)
THE TREE
Stripped of my clothes, I climbed into a tree; my bare thighs
embraced the smooth, moist bark; my sandals trod upon the branches.
At the top, yet under the leaves and shadowed from the heat, I sat
astride a projecting branch and balanced my feet in the void.
It rained. The water drops fell and slipped over my skin. My hands
were stained with moss and my toes were reddened from crushed
flowers.
When the wind passed through the branches I felt the fair life of
the tree; then I pressed my legs yet closer and laid my open lips
upon the hairy nape of a bough.
II
PASTORAL SONG
Let us sing a pastoral song; call upon Pan, god of the wind of
summer. Selenis and I each watch our flocks, from the round shadow
of an olive tree which trembles.
Selenis lies upon the meadow. She raises herself and runs, searches
for grasshoppers, gathers the flowers and herbs or bathes her face
in the cool waters of the brook.
And I--I draw up the wool from the white backs of the sheep to
garnish my distaff, and I spin. The hours move slowly. In the sky,
an eagle passes.
The shadow turns; let us move the basket of flowers and the jar of
milk. Let us sing a pastoral song, call upon Pan, god of the wind
of summer.
III
MATERNAL ADVICE
My mother bathes me in the darkness, she dresses me in the bright
sunlight and arranges my hair in the light of lamps; but if we walk
out in the moonlight she draws my girdle into a double knot.
She says to me: “Play with virgins, dance with little children;
look not out of the window, shun the words of young men and turn
from the counsel of widows.
“One evening, someone will take thee, as others are taken, over the
threshold, amidst a great assemblage with sonorous drums and
amorous flutes.
“That evening, when thou goest away, Bilito, thou wilt leave me
three gourds of gall, one for the morning, one for midday and the
third, the bitterest, the third for the days of festival.”
IV
THE NAKED FEET
I have black hair all the length of my back and a small round cap.
My shirt is of white wool. My legs are fast browned by the sun.
If I lived in the city, I would wear jewels of gold and garments
broidered with gold and shoes of silver.... I regard my naked feet
in their slippers of dust.
Psophis! come here, little beggar! carry me to the spring, bathe my
feet in thy hands and press olives and violets to perfume them like
the flowers.
Today thou shalt be my slave, thou shalt follow me and serve me
and, at the end of the day, I will give thee, for thy mother,
lentils from my garden.
V
THE OLD MAN AND THE NYMPHS
A blind old man lives upon the mountain. For looking upon the
nymphs, his eyes have been dead for a long time. And, since, his
happiness is a distant memory.
“Yes, I have seen them,” he said to me; “Helopsychria, Limnanthis;
they were standing near the bank of the green pool of Physos. The
water sparkled higher than their knees.
“Their necks inclined beneath their long hair. Their nails were
thin as the wings of grasshoppers. Their nipples were hollowed like
the cups of hyacinths.
“They trailed their fingers upon the water and drew up, from an
invisible vase, the long-stemmed water-lilies. Around their parted
thighs, the ripples slowly widened.”
VI
SONG
“Tori-tortue, what doest thou amongst us?--I wind the wool and the
thread of Milet.--Alas! Alas! Why dost thou not dance?--I am very
sorrowful. I am very sorrowful.
“Tori-tortue, what doest thou amongst us?--I cut a reed for a
funereal flute.--Alas! Alas! What has befallen him!--I will not
tell. I will not tell.
“Tori-tortue, what doest thou amongst us?--I press the olives for
oil for the stèle.--Alas! Alas! And who, then, is dead?--Canst thou
ask? Canst thou ask?
“Tori-tortue, what doest thou amongst us?--He has fallen into the
sea....--Alas! Alas! And how is that?--From the backs of white
horses. From the backs of white horses.”
VII
THE PASSER-BY
As I was seated in the evening before the door of the house, a
young man passed by. He looked at me, I turned away my head. He
spoke to me but I did not answer.
He wished to approach me. I took a sickle from the wall and I would
have cut open his cheek if he had advanced another step.
Then, drawing back a little, he began to smile and breathed in his
hand toward me, saying: “Receive the kiss.” And I cried! And I
wept! So much so that my mother hastened to me.
Alarmed, believing that I had been stung as though by a scorpion, I
wept: “He embraced me.” My mother also embraced me and carried me
away in her arms.
VIII
THE AWAKENING
It is already light I should rise. But the drowsiness of morning is
sweet and the warmth of my bed enfolds me closer. I long to remain
lying so.
Soon I will go to the stable. I will give the goats grass and
flowers and a flask of fresh water drawn from the well where I will
drink with them.
Then I will fasten them to the post and milk their soft, warm
udders; and if the kids are not jealous, I will suck with them from
the supple teats.
Amaltheia, has she not fed Dzeus? Therefore I will go. But not yet.
The sun has risen too soon and my mother is not yet awake.
IX
THE RAIN
The fine rain has fallen over all things, gently and in silence. It
still rains a little. I will go out among the trees. My feet shall
be naked, so that I will not soil my shoes.
The rain of springtime is delicious. The branches, laden with moist
flowers, have a perfume which bewilders me. One sees the sparkle of
the sun on the delicate bark.
Alas! how many flowers upon the ground! How pitiful, these flowers
which have fallen. They should not be gathered and mixed with the
mud but saved for the bees.
The beetles and the snails traverse the path between the puddles of
water; I would not tread upon them nor frighten the golden lizard
which stretches out, blinking his eyelids.
X
THE FLOWERS
Nymphs of the woods and fountains, sweetest of friends, I am here.
Hide not, but come to my aid for I am burdened with many flowers.
I would choose, from all the forest, a poor hamadryad with raised
arms and in her hair, the color of the leaves, I will place my
heaviest rose.
See: I have taken so many from the fields that I cannot carry them
away unless you help me make a garland. If you refuse, beware:
She of you with the orange hair, I saw her yesterday embraced like
a beast by the satyr Lamprosathes and I will denounce the shameless
one.
XI
IMPATIENCE
I threw myself into her arms and wept and for a long time she felt
my hot tears slip over her shoulders; then, when my sorrow let me
speak:
“Alas, I am only a child; the young men never look at me. When will
I have, like thee, a young woman’s breasts to raise my robe and
entice kisses?
“There are no curious eyes if my tunic slips; no one gathers up the
flower that falls from my hair, nor does anyone threaten to kill me
if my mouth is given to another.”
She replied to me tenderly: “Bilitis, little virgin, thou criest
like a cat at the moon and thou art troubled without reason. The
girls who are most impatient are not the soonest chosen.”
XII
COMPARISONS
Bergeronnet, bird of Kypris, sing with our first desires! The fresh
bodies of young girls bloom with flowers like the earth. The night
of all our dreams approaches and we talk of it among ourselves.
Sometimes we compare, all together, the differences in our
beauties, our hair already long, our young breasts still small, our
puberties round like shells and hidden under the nascent down.
Yesterday I competed with Melantho, my elder sister. She was proud
of her breasts which had grown in a month, and pointing to my
straight tunic, she called me “Little Child.”
No man could see us, we placed ourselves naked before the girls,
and if she vanquished me on one point, I far surpassed her on all
others. Bergeronnet, bird of Kypris, sing with our first desires!
XIII
THE FOREST RIVER
I bathed myself, alone, in the forest river. I am sure I frightened
the naiads for I divined them moving anxiously far within the dark
water.
I called them. To resemble them better, I plaited upon my neck
irises black as my hair and branches of yellow gilliflowers.
Of a long floating grass I made myself a green girdle and, to see
it, I pressed up my breasts and inclined my head a little.
And I called: “Naiads! naiads! play with me, be kind.” But the
naiads are transparent, and perhaps, without knowing, I have
caressed their delicate arms.
XIV
COME, MELISSA
When the sun burns less fiercely, we will go and play upon the
river banks, we will struggle for a frail crocus or for a damp
hyacinth.
We will make them into round collars and garlands, prizes for our
running. We will take each other by the hand and by the ends of our
tunics.
Come, Melissa! give us honey. Come, Naiads! we will bathe with you.
Come, Melissa! throw a shadow gently over our perspiring bodies.
And we will offer you, kind nymphs, not shameful wine, but oil and
milk and goats with twisted horns.
XV
THE SYMBOLIC RING
The voyagers who return from Sardis tell us that the women of Lydia
are covered with collars and stones from the top of their hair to
their tinted feet.
The girls of my country have neither bracelets nor diadems, but one
of their fingers carries a silver ring and upon the bezel is graven
the triangle of the goddess.
When they turn the point outward, they would say: “Psyche is to be
taken.” When they turn the point inward, they would say: “Psyche is
taken.”
The men believe this, the women do not. As for me, I little regard
which way the point is turned, for Psyche offers herself freely.
Psyche is always to be taken.
XVI
DANCES BY MOONLIGHT
On the soft grass, in the night, the young girls with hair of
violets have all danced together, one of each two playing the part
of lover.
The virgins said: “We are not for you.” And, as though they were
bashful, concealed their virginity. Among the trees, an ægipan
played upon the flute.
The others said: “We have come to seek you.” They arranged their
robes like the tunics of men and they struggled gently while
entwining their dancing legs.
Then, each pretending to be vanquished, took her friend by the
ears, like a cup with two handles, and, inclining the head, drank a
kiss.
XVII
THE LITTLE CHILDREN
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.
It is Glottis whom I prefer; but I cannot reject Kyse. What would
become of her, all alone? Shall I leave them as they were, and take
for myself another friend?
L
THE MEETING
I have found her like a treasure, in a field, under a bush of
myrtle, enveloped from throat to feet in a yellow peplos broidered
with blue.
“I have no friend,” she said; “for the nearest city is forty stadia
from here. I live alone with my mother who is a widow and always
sad. If thou wishest, I will follow thee.
“I will follow thee to thy house, were it at the other side of the
island, and I will live with thee until thou sendest me away. Thy
hand is soft and thine eyes are blue.
“Let us go. I carry nothing with me but this little naked Astarte
which hangs from my necklace. We will put it near thine and we will
give them roses in recompense for each night.”
LI
THE LITTLE TERRA COTTA ASTARTE
The little guardian Astarte which protects Mnasidika was modeled at
Camiros by a skilful potter. It is large as a thumb and of fine
yellow earth.
Its hair falls back and curls upon its narrow shoulders. Its eyes
are cut very long and its mouth is very small. For it is the
Most-Beautiful.
With its right hand it points to its delta which is worked with
little holes on the lower belly and along the groins. For it is the
Most-Amorous-One.
With the left arm it supports its heavy, round breasts. Between its
wide hips protrudes a fecund belly. For it is the
Mother-Of-All-Things.
LII
DESIRE
She entered and passionately, her eyes half closed, she united her
lips with mine and our tongues touched each other.... Never was
there in my life a kiss like that one.
She stood against me, all love and contentment. One of my knees,
little by little, mounted between her hot thighs which gave way as
though for a lover.
My hand wandered over her tunic seeking to divine the hidden body
which, by turns, undulated, yielding itself, or, arching, stiffened
itself with shiverings of the skin.
With her eyes in delirium, she pointed toward the bed; but we had
not the right to love before the ceremony of wedding, and we
separated brusquely.
LIII
THE WEDDING
In the morning they had the wedding-feast in the house of
Acalanthis whom she had adopted for a mother. Mnasidika wore the
white veil and I the male tunic.
Then, amidst twenty women, she put on her robes of festival.
Perfumed with Bakkaris, sifted with powder of gold, her cool and
animated skin attracted furtive hands.
In her chamber filled with foliage, she waited for me like a
spouse. And I carried her away on a chariot between myself and the
nymphagogue. One of her little breasts burned in my hand.
They chanted the nuptial song; the flutes played also. I carried
Mnasidika under the shoulders and under the knees and we passed
over the threshold covered with roses.
LIV
THE PAST WHICH SURVIVES
I will leave the bed as she has left it, unmade and rumpled, the
covers mingled, in order that the form of her body may remain
impressed beside mine.
Until tomorrow I will not go to the bath, I I will not wear any
garments, I will not comb my hair, for fear lest I efface her
caresses.
This morning, I will not eat, nor this evening, and upon my lips I
will place neither rouge nor powder, in order that her kiss may
remain.
I will leave the shutters closed and I will not open the door for
fear lest the remembrance which she has left fly out upon the wind.
LV
METAMORPHOSIS
Formerly I was amorous of the beauty of young men, and the
remembrance of their words kept me awake.
I remember having graven a name in the bark of a plane-tree. I
remember having left a strip of my tunic in a path where someone
would pass.
I remember having loved.... O Pannychis, my babe, in what hands
have I left thee? how, O unfortunate one, have I abandoned thee?
Today, and forever, Mnasidika alone possesses me. What she receives
as a sacrifice is the happiness of those whom I have deserted for
her.
LVI
THE NAMELESS TOMB
Mnasidika took me by the hand and led me outside the gates of the
city to a little uncultivated field where there was a marble stèle.
And she said: “This was the lover of my mother.”
Then I felt a great shiver and still holding her hand, I leaned on
her shoulder in order to read the four lines between the broken cup
and the serpent:
“It is not death which has carried me away, but the Nymphs of the
fountains. I rest here under the light earth with the severed hair
of Xantho. Let her alone weep for me. I tell not my name.”
For a long time we remained standing, and we did not pour a
libation. For how could we call an unknown soul from the throngs of
Hades?
LVII
THE THREE BEAUTIES OF MNASIDIKA
So that Mnasidika may be protected by the gods, I have sacrificed
to the Aphrodite-who-loves-the-smiles, two male hares and two
doves.
And I have sacrificed to Ares two cocks armed for fighting, and to
sinister Hecate two dogs that howled under the knife.
And it is not without reason that I have implored these three
immortals, for Mnasidika carries on her countenance the reflection
of their triple divinity.
Her lips are red like copper, her hair bluish like iron and her
eyes black like silver.
LVIII
THE CAVE OF THE NYMPHS
Thy feet are more delicate than those of silvery Thetis. Between
thy crossed arms thou unitest thy breasts, cradling them softly
like the bodies of two fair doves.
Beneath thy hair thou dissemblest thy moist eyes, thy trembling
mouth and the pink flowers of thine ears; but nothing stops my
regard nor the warm breath of my kiss.
For, in the secret of thy body, it is thou, Mnasidika, beloved, who
hidest the cave of the nymphs of which old Homer spoke, the place
where the naiads weave their purple linens.
The place where glide, drop by drop, the inexhaustible springs and
where the gate of the North lets men descend and the gate of the
South lets immortals enter.
LIX
MNASIDIKA’S BREASTS
Carefully, with one hand, she opened her tunic and offered me her
warm, sweet breasts, as one would offer to the goddess a pair of
living turtle-doves.
“Love them well,” she said to me; “I love them so much! They are
dear, the little babes. I busy myself with them when I am alone. I
play with them; I give them pleasure.
“I douche them with milk. I powder them with flowers. My soft hair
which drys them is dear to their little points. I caress them, and
shiver. I enfold them in wool.