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.