phallos crowned, an hundred women rocked, shrieking. The initiates
wore the habits of men, the others the divided tunics.
The smoke of perfumes, the fumes of torches, wavered between us
like clouds. I wept burning tears. All, at the feet of the Berbeia;
we cast ourselves upon our backs.
At last when the religious Act was consummated, and when, in the
Unique Triangle, had been plunged the crimson phallos, the mystery
commenced; but I will tell no more.
XCVIII
THE EGYPTIAN COURTESANS
I have been, with Plango, among the Egyptian courtesans, at the
highest part of the old city. They have amphoras of earth, plates
of copper and yellow matting where they squat without strain.
Their chambers are silent, without angles and without corners, so
much their successive couches of blue limestone have blunted the
pillars and rounded the base of the walls.
They sit immobile, their hands resting upon their knees. When they
offer pudding they murmur: “Happiness.” And when one thanks them,
they say: “Grace to thee.”
They understand Hellene and feign to speak it badly so as to laugh
at us in their own tongue; but we, a tooth for a tooth, we speak
Lydian and they are suddenly uneasy.
XCIX
I SING OF MY FLESH AND MY LIFE
Surely I will not sing of celebrated past lovers. If they are no
more, why speak of them? Am I not like them? Have I not enough to
think of in myself?
I will forget thee, Pasiphae, although thy passion was extreme. I
will not praise thee, Syrinx, nor thee, Byblis, nor thee, by the
goddess chosen before all, Helene of the white arms!
If someone has suffered, I feel not the pain. If someone has loved,
I have loved more. I sing of my flesh and my life, and not of the
sterile shadow of buried loves.
Rest upon the bed, O my body, according to thy voluptuous mission!
Taste thy daily enjoyments and the passions without a tomorrow.
Leave not a joy unknown to be regretted upon the day of thy death.
C
THE PERFUMES
I will perfume all my skin in order to attract lovers. Upon my fair
legs, in a basin of silver, I will pour the spikenard of Tarsos and
the metopion of Egypt.
Upon my arms, crushed mint; upon my lashes and upon my eyes
sweet-marjoram of Kôs. Slave, loosen my hair and fill it with the
smoke of incense.
Here is oinanthe from the mountains of Cypros; I will let it slip
between my breasts; the liquor of roses which comes from Phaselis
shall perfume my neck and my cheeks.
And now, pour upon my loins the irresistible bakkaris. It is
better, for a courtesan, to know the perfumes of Lydia than the
ways of the Peloponnesus.
CI
CONVERSATION
“Good morning.--Good morning also.--Thou art in a great
hurry.--Perhaps less than thou thinkest.--Thou art a pretty
girl.--Perhaps more so than thou believest.
“What is thy charming name?--I tell it not so quickly.--Thou hast
someone this evening?--Always there is my lover.--And how dost thou
love him?--As he wishes.
“Let us sup together.--If thou desirest. But what givest
thou?--This.--Five drachmæ? It is for my slave. And for me?--Say it
thyself.--An hundred.
“Where livest thou?--In this blue house.--At what hour may I send
to seek thee?--At once, if thou wishest.--At once.--Go before.”
CII
THE TORN ROBE
“Holla! by the two goddesses, who is the insolent one who has put
his foot upon my robe?--It is a lover.--It is a blockhead.--I have
been awkward, pardon me.
“Imbecile! my yellow robe is all torn in the back, and if I walk
thus in the street, they will take me for a poor girl who serves
Cypris inversely.
“Wilt thou not stop?--I believe that he speaks to me again!--Why
dost thou leave me, thus angered?... Thou respondest not? Alas! I
dare speak no more.
“I certainly must return to my house to change my robe.--And may I
not follow thee? Who is thy father?--He is the rich captain
Nikias.--Thou hast fair eyes, I pardon thee.”
CIII
THE JEWELS
A diadem of fretted gold crowns my straight, white forehead. Five
chains of gold that follow the curve of my cheeks and chin, are
suspended from my hair by two large clasps.
Upon my arms, which Iris would envy, thirteen silver bracelets
twine. How heavy they are! But they are weapons; and I know one
enemy who has suffered from them.
I am truly all covered with gold. My breasts are cuirassed with two
pectorals of gold. The images of the gods have not more riches than
I have.
And I wear upon my heavy robe, a girdle of silver plates. There
thou canst read this verse: “Love me eternally; but be not
afflicted if I deceive thee three times each day.”
CIV
THE INDIFFERENT ONE
Since he has entered my chamber, whoever he may be (that is his
concern): “See,” I say to my slave, “what a handsome man! and
should not a courtesan be happy?”
I declare he is Adonis, Ares or Herakles, according to his
countenance, or the Old Man of the Sea if his hair is pale silver.
And then, what disdain for trifling youth!
“Ah!” I say, “if I had not to pay my florist and my goldsmith
tomorrow, how I would love to say to thee: I do not wish thy gold!
I am thy passionate servant!”
Then, when he has closed his arms under my shoulders, I see a
boatman of the port pass like a divine image over the starry sky of
my transparent lids.
CV
PURE WATER OF THE BASIN
“Pure water of the basin, immobile mirror, tell me of my
beauty.--Bilitis, or whoever thou art, Tethys perhaps, or
Amphitrite, thou art beautiful, thou knowest.
“Thy face inclines beneath thy thick hair, which is heavy with
flowers and perfumes. Thy soft eyelids scarcely open, and thy
flanks are weary from the movements of love.
“Thy body, fatigued with the weight of thy breasts, carries the
fine marks of nails and the blue stains of the kiss. Thine arms are
reddened by the embrace. Each line of thy skin was loved.”
“Clear water of the basin, thy freshness brings repose. Receive me,
who am truly wearied. Take away the fard of my cheeks and the sweat
of my body and the remembrance of the night.”
CVI
VOLUPTUOUSNESS
Upon a white terrace, in the night, they abandoned us, swooning
among the roses. The warm perspiration slipped away like tears from
our armpits over our breasts. Overwhelming voluptuousness purpled
our thrownback heads.
Four captive doves, bathed in four perfumes, fluttered above us in
the silence. From their wings, drops of perfume fell upon the naked
women. I was covered with the essence of iris.
O lassitude! I rested my cheek upon the belly of a young girl who
enveloped herself in the cool of my moist hair. The perfume of her
saffroned skin intoxicated my opened mouth. She closed her thighs
about my neck.
I slept, but an exhausting dream awakened me: the inyx, bird of
nocturnal desires, sang distractedly from afar. I coughed with a
shiver. Little by little, a languishing arm like a flower raised
itself in the air toward the moon.
CVII
THE INN
Innkeeper, we are four. Give us a chamber and two beds. It is now
too late to return to the city and the rain has broken the road.
Bring a basket of figs, some cheese, and dark wine; but first
remove my sandals and lave my feet, for the mud tickles me.
Have brought into the chamber, two basins with water, a full lamp,
a crater and kylix. Shake thou the covers and beat the cushions.
But let the beds be of good maple, and the planks noiseless!
Tomorrow thou needst not awaken us.
CVIII
THE SERVANTS
Four slaves guard my house: two robust Thracians at my door, a
Sicilian in my kitchen and a docile and silent Phrygian woman for
the service of my bed.
The two Thracians are handsome men. Each has a staff in his hand to
chase away poor lovers and a hammer to nail upon the wall the
wreaths which are sent me.
The Sicilian is a rare cook; I paid twelve minæ for her. No other
knows as she does how to prepare fried croquettes and cakes of
poppy.
The Phrygian bathes me, dresses my hair and depilates me. She
sleeps in the morning in my chamber, and three nights each month,
she takes my place with my lovers.
CIX
THE BATH
Child, guard well the door, and let no passer-by enter, for I and
six girls with beautiful arms would bathe ourselves in secret in
the warm water of the basin.
We would only laugh and swim. Let the lovers stay in the street. We
will dip our legs in the water and, seated on the marble brink, we
will play with dice.
We will play also with the ball. Let no lovers enter; our hair is
too wet; our throats are all goose-flesh and the ends of our
fingers are wrinkled.
Moreover, he would repent it, who surprised us naked! Bilitis is
not Athena, but she shows herself only at her hours and chastises
too ardent eyes.
CX
TO HER BREASTS
Flowers of flesh, O my breasts! how rich in voluptuousness you are!
My breasts in my hands, how soft you are, how gently warm, how
youthfully perfumed!
Formerly, you were frozen like the breast of a statue and hard as
the insensible marble. Since you have softened, I cherish you more,
you who have been so loved.
Your sleek, rounded forms are the honor of my brown torso. When I
imprison you in bands of gold or when I deliver you all naked, you
precede me with your splendor.
Therefore be happy, this night. If my fingers give forth caresses,
you alone will know them until tomorrow morning; for, this night,
Bilitis has paid Bilitis.
CXI
MYDZOURIS
Mydzouris, little filth, weep not. Thou art my friend. If the women
insult thee again, it is I who will answer them. Come into my arms
and dry thine eyes.
Yes, I know thou art a horrible child and that thy mother taught
thee early to prove thy courage in all things. But thou art young
and therefore thou canst do nothing that is not charming.
The mouth of a girl of fifteen remains pure in spite of all. The
lips of a gray-headed woman, although virgin, are degraded; for the
only disgrace is to grow old and we are blemished only when we
become wrinkled.
Mydzouris, I admire thy frank eyes, thine impudent and bold name,
thy laughing voice and thy light body. Come to my house, thou shalt
be my aid, and when we go out together, the women shall say to
thee: Greeting.
CXII
THE TRIUMPH OF BILITIS
In the procession they have carried me in triumph, me, Bilitis, all
naked upon a shell-like car upon which slaves, during the night,
had placed ten thousand roses.
I reclined, my hands under my neck, my feet alone clad in gold, and
my body outstretched softly upon the bed of my warm hair mingled
with the cool petals.
Twelve children, with wingèd shoulders, served me as a goddess; one
of them held a shade, the others showered me with perfume or burned
incense in the prow.
And about me I heard rustling the ardent murmur of the multitude,
whilst the breath of desire floated about my nudity, in the blue
mist of the aromatics.
CXIII
TO THE GOD OF THE WOODS
O venerable Priapos, god of the woods, whom I have fastened in the
marble border of my bath, it is not without reason, guardian of the
orchards, that thou shouldst watch here over the courtesans.
God, we have not bought thee to sacrifice our virginities to thee.
No one can give that which is no more, and the zealots of Pallas
run not the streets of Amathus.
No. Formerly thou didst watch over the leafy hair of the trees,
over the wet flowers, over the heavy and savory fruits. It is for
that we have chosen thee.
Guard thou today our blond heads, the opened poppies of our lips
and the violets of our eyes. Guard the firm fruit of our breasts
and give us lovers who resemble thee.
CXIV
THE DANCING-GIRL WITH CROTALES
Thou attachest to thy light hands the resounding crotales,
Myrrhinidion my dear, and, almost naked from thy robe, thou
extendest thy nervous limbs. How pretty thou art, thine arms in the
air, thy loins arched and thy breasts reddened!
Thou commencest: thy feet, one before the other, pose, hesitate,
and glide softly. Thy body bends like a scarf, thou caressest thy
shivering skin, and voluptuousness inundates thy long, swooning
eyes.
Suddenly thou strikest the crotales! Arch thyself, erect upon thy
feet, shake thy loins, advance thy legs and let thy hands, filled
with noise, call all the desires in a band about thy turning body.
We, we applaud with great cries, whether, smiling over thy
shoulder, thou agitatest with a shiver thy convulsed muscular
croup, or whether thou undulatest, almost extended, to the rhythm
of thy memories.
CXV
THE FLUTE-PLAYER
Melixo, thy legs joined, thy body inclined, thine arms forward,
thou slippest thy light double-flute between thy lips moist with
wine, and thou playest about the couch where Teleas still embraces
me.
Am I not most imprudent, I who hire so young a girl to distract my
hours of labor? I who show her thus naked to the curious looks of
my lovers, am I not careless?
No, Melixo, little musician, thou art an honest friend. Yesterday
thou didst not refuse to change thy flute for another when I
despaired of accomplishing a love full of difficulties. But thou
art safe.
For I know well of what thou thinkest. Thou awaitest the end of
this night of excesses which animates thee cruelly and in vain,
and, at the first dawn, thou wilt run in the street, with thine
only friend Psyllos, to thy little broken mattress.
CXVI
THE WARM GIRDLE
“Thou thinkest thou lovest me no longer, Teleas, and since a month
thou hast passed thy nights at the table, as though the fruits, the
wines, the honey, could make thee forget my lips. Thou thinkest
that thou lovest me no longer, poor fool!”
Saying that, I loosened my moist girdle and I rolled it about his
head. It was still quite warm with the heat of my body; the perfume
of my skin issued from its fine meshes.
He breathed it deeply, his eyes closed, then I felt that he
returned to me and I even saw very clearly his reawakening desires
that he hid not from me, but, as a ruse, I resisted him.
“No, my friend. This evening, Lysippos possesses me. Farewell!” And
I added, as I fled: “O gormand of fruits and greens! the little
garden of Bilitis has only one fig, but it is good.”
CXVII
TO A HAPPY HUSBAND
I envy thee, Agorakrites, for having a wife so zealous. It is she
herself who attends to the stable, and in the morning, in place of
making love, she gives drink to the cattle.
Thou shouldst rejoice in her. How many others, wouldst thou say,
dream of base pleasures, waking the night, sleeping the day, and
yet demanding from adultery a criminal satiety?
Yes; thy wife labors in the stable. They say even that she has a
thousand tendernesses for the youngest of thine asses. Ah! Ha!
there is a good animal. He has a black spot over his eyes.
They say that she plays between his hoofs, under his soft gray
belly.... But those who say that are slanderers. If thine ass
pleases her, Agorakrites, it is without doubt that she recalls thy
look in his.
CXVIII
TO A WANDERER
The love of women is the most beautiful of all that mortals
experience, and thou wouldst think so, Kleo, if thou hadst a truly
voluptuous soul; but thou dreamest only vanities.
Thou losest thy nights in cherishing youths who are ungrateful to
us. Therefore regard them! How ugly they are! Compare to their
round heads, our thick hair; seek our white breasts upon their
chests.
Beside their narrow flanks, consider our luxuriant hips, broad,
hollowed couches for lovers. Say, above all, what human lips,
except hers who wishes it, can elaborate the pleasures?
Thou art sick, O Kleo, but a woman can cure thee. Go to young
Satyra, the daughter of my neighbor Gorgo. Her croup is a rose of
the sun, and she will not refuse thee the pleasure she herself
prefers.
CXIX
INTIMACIES
Why I have become Lesbian, O Bilitis, thou askest? But what player
of the flute is not, a little? I am poor; I have no bed; I lie with
her who wishes me and I thank her with what I have.
While yet small, we dance naked; those dances, thou knowest them,
my dear: the twelve desires of Aphrodite. We regard each other, we
compare our nudities and we find them so pretty.
During the long night, we inflame ourselves for the pleasure of the
spectators; but our ardor is not feigned and we feel it so much
that sometimes, behind the doors one of us may animate her
companion who consents.
How then can we love a man who is rough with us? He seizes us as
girls and leaves us before the delight. Thou, thou art a woman,
thou knowest what I mean. Thou canst take it as for thyself.
CXX
THE COMMAND
“Old woman, hear me. I give a festival in three days. It is to
divert me. Thou wilt lend me all thy girls. How many hast thou, and
what can they do?”
“I have seven. Three dance the Kordax with the scarf and the
phallos. Nephele of the sleek armpits will mimic the love of doves
between her rosy breasts.
“One singer in a broidered peplos will chant the songs of Rhodes,
accompanied by two auletrides who will have garlands of myrtle
rolled about their brown legs.”
“It is well. See that they be freshly depilated, laved and perfumed
from head to foot, ready for other games if they are demanded. Go
give the orders. Farewell.”
CXXI
THE FIGURE OF PASIPHAE
In a debauch that two young men and some courtesans made at my
house, where love gushed out like wine, Damalis, in honor of her
name, danced the Figure of Pasiphae.
She had caused to be made at Kition two masks of a cow and of a
bull, for herself and for Karmantidea. She wore terrible horns, and
a hairy tail upon her croup.
The other women, led by me, held the flowers and the torches, and
we turned about ourselves with cries and we caressed Damalis with
the tips of our pendent tresses.
Their lowings and our songs and the dancing of our loins lasted
longer than the night. The empty chamber is still warm. I regard my
reddened knees and the canthares of Kôs where the roses float.
CXXII
THE JUGGLER
When the first dawn blended with the feeble glimmer of the torches,
I sent into the orgie a flute-player, vicious and agile, who
trembled a little, being cold.
Praise the little girl of the blue lids, of the short hair, of the
sharp breasts, clad only in a girdle from which hung yellow ribbons
and the stems of black iris.
Praise her! for she was adroit and performed difficult tricks. She
juggled with hoops, without breaking anything in the room, she
glided through them like a grasshopper.
Sometimes she made a wheel, bending upon her hands and feet. Or,
with her two legs in the air and her knees apart, she curved
herself backward and touched the ground, laughing.
CXXIII
THE DANCE OF THE FLOWERS
Anthis, dancing-girl of Lydia, has seven veils about her. She
unrolls the yellow veil, her black hair spreads out. The rosy veil
slips from her mouth. The white veil falls, revealing her naked
arms.
She releases her little breasts from the red veil that unties
itself. She lets fall the green veil from her double, rounded
croup. She draws the blue veil from her shoulders, but she presses
upon her puberty the last transparent veil.
The young men supplicate her; she tosses her head backward. Only at
the sound of the flutes, she tears it a little, then, suddenly, and
with the gestures of the dance, she culls the flowers of her body.
Singing: “Where are my roses? where are my perfumed violets! Where
are my tufts of parsley!--Behold my roses, I give them to you.
Behold my violets, will you have them? Behold my fair curled
parsley.”
CXXIV
VIOLENCE
No, thou shalt not take me by force, count not on that, Lamprias.
If thou hast heard it said that someone violated Parthenis, know
that she gave herself, for one plays not with us without being
invited.
Oh! do thy best, make efforts. See: it is a failure. I scarcely
defend myself, yet. I will not call for help. And I do not even
struggle; but I stir. Poor friend, it is a failure again.
Continue. This little game amuses me. The more as I am sure to
conquer. Again an unhappy essay, and perhaps thou wilt be less
disposed to show me thine extinguished desires.
Butcher, what doest thou! Cur! thou wilt break my wrists! and this
knee, this knee which opens me! Ah! go, now, it is a fine victory,
that of ravishing a young girl, in tears, upon the ground.
CXXV
SONG
The first gave me a collar, a collar of pearls, worth a city with
its palaces and its temples, and its treasures and its slaves.
The second made verses for me. He said that my tresses were black
as those of the night and my eyes blue as those of the morning.
The third was so beautiful that his mother could not embrace him
without reddening. He put his hands upon my knees and his lips upon
my naked foot.
Thou, thou hast told me nothing, thou hast given me nothing, for
thou art poor. And thou art not beautiful, but it is thee I love.
CXXVI
ADVICE TO A LOVER
If thou wouldst be loved by a woman, O young friend, whoever she
may be, tell her not that thou wishest her, but have her see thee
every day; then disappear, to return.
If she address her speech to thee, be amorous without eagerness.
She, of herself, will come to thee. But thou must take her by
force, the day when she intends to give herself.
When thou receivest her in thy bed neglect thine own pleasure. The
hands of an amorous woman are trembling and without caresses.
Excuse them from being zealous.
But thou, take no repose. Prolong thy kisses to breathlessness.
Allow her no sleep, even though she beg it of thee. Kiss always the
part of her body toward which she turns her eyes.
CXXVII
FRIENDS AT DINNER
Myromeris and Maskale, my friends, come with me, for I have no
lover this evening and, lying upon beds of byssus, we will converse
over our dinner.
A night of repose will do you good; you shall sleep in my bed, even
without fards and with unkempt hair. Wear a simple tunic of wool
and leave your jewels in their box.
No one shall make you dance to admire your legs and the heavy
movements of your loins. No one shall demand the Sacred Figures to
judge whether you are amorous.
And I have not commanded for us two flute-players with fair mouths,
but two pans of browned peas, cakes of honey, fried croquettes, and
my last leathern bottle of Kôs.
CXXVIII
THE TOMB OF A YOUNG COURTESAN
Here lies the delicate body of Lydé, little dove, the most joyous
of all the courtesans, who more than all others loved orgies and
floating hair, soft dances and tunics of hyacinth.
More than all others she loved the savory glottisms, the caresses
upon her cheek, games that only the lamp saw, and love which
bruised the limbs. And now she is a little shadow.
But before putting her in the tomb, they have arranged her hair
marvelously and laid her in roses; even the stone which covers her
is all impregnated with essences and perfumes.
Sacred earth, nurse of all, receive gently the poor dead, let her
sleep in thine arms, O Mother! and make to grow about the stèle,
not nettles and briers, but tender white violets.
CXXIX
THE LITTLE ROSE MERCHANT
Yesterday, Nais said to me, I was in the market when a little girl
in red tatters passed, carrying roses, before a group of young men.
And this is what I heard:
“Buy something from me.--Explain thyself, little one, for we know
not what thou sellest; thyself? thy roses or all at once?--If you
will buy from me all these flowers, you may have mine for nothing.
“And how much wishest thou for thy roses?--I must have six oboli
for my mother, else I shall be beaten like a bitch.--Follow us.
Thou shalt have a drachma.--Then, shall I seek my little sister?”
And both followed those men. They had no breasts, Bilitis. They
knew not even how to smile. They trotted along like two kids which
one leads to the butcher.
CXXX
THE DISPUTE
Ah! by Aphrodite, behold thee! bloody head! rottenness! infection!
sterile one! carcanet! clumsy one! good for nothing! evil sow! Do
not try to escape me; come yet nearer.
Behold this woman of the sailors, who knows not even how to fold
her garment upon the shoulder and who puts on the fard so badly
that the black of her brows runs over her cheek in floods of ink.
Thou art Phœnician: lie with those of thy race. As for me, my
father was Hellene: I have right over all those who wear the
petasus. And even over the others if it pleases me so.
Stop not in my street or I will send thee to Hades to make love
with Karon and I will say very justly: “Let the earth cover thee
lightly,” so that the dogs may dig thee out.
CXXXI
MELANCHOLY
I shiver; the night is cool, and the forest all wet. Why hast thou
led me here? is my great bed not softer than this moss strewn with
stones?
My flowery robe will be spotted with verdure; my hair will be
tangled with twigs; my neck; look at my neck, already soiled with
the damp earth.
Formerly, I followed into the woods he who.... Ah! leave me for a
time. I am sad, this evening. Leave me, without speaking, my hand
over my eyes.