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THE MAD EMBRACE<br />
Love me, not with smiles and flutes or plaited flowers, but with your heart and<br />
tears, as I adore you with my bosom and my sobs.<br />
When your breasts alternate with mine, when I feel your very life touching my<br />
own, when your knees rise up behind me, my panting mouth no longer even<br />
knows the way to yours.<br />
Clasp me as I clasp you! See, the lamp has just gone out, we toss about in the<br />
night; but I press your moving body and I hear your ceaseless plaint. . .<br />
Moan! moan! moan! oh, woman! Eros drags us now in heavy pain. You'll suffer<br />
less upon this bed in bringing forth a child than you'll agonize in bringing forth<br />
your love.<br />
THE HEART<br />
Panting, I took her hand and pressed it tightly beneath the humid skin <strong>of</strong> my left<br />
breast. My head tossed here and there and I moved my lips, but not a word<br />
escaped.<br />
My maddened heart, sudden and hard, beat and beat upon my breast, as a<br />
captive satyr would beat about, tied in a goat-skin vessel. She said to me: "Your<br />
heart is troubling you. . ."<br />
"Oh, Mnasidika!" I answered her, "a woman's heart is not seated there. This is<br />
but a little bird, a dove which stirs its feeble wings. The heart <strong>of</strong> a woman is more<br />
terrible.<br />
"It burns like a myrtle-berry, with a bright red flame and beneath abundant<br />
foam. 'Tis there that I feel bitten by voracious Aphrodite."<br />
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