The songs of Bilitis : $b Translated from the Greek : A new rendering in English with notes and commentLouÿs, Pierre
General
The songs of Bilitis : $b Translated from the Greek : A new rendering in English with notes and comment
Louÿs, Pierre
French poetry -- Translations into English; Lesbians -- Poetry
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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