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.