Songs of Bilitis - Benjamin Adamah

THE TRIUMPH OF BILITIS
The processionaries carried me in triumph, me, Bilitis, naked in a shell-shaped
car, into which all through the night slaves had stripped the petals from ten
thousand roses.
I was resting, hands behind my neck, my feet alone were shod in gold, my body
softly stretched upon the bed formed by my warm hair mingled with cool petals.
Twelve children with winged shoulders served me as a goddess; some carried a
shade and others moistened me with perfumes or burned incense in the rostrum
of the car.
And round about I heard the roaring murmur of the crowd, while the breath of its
desire was an aura to my nakedness, amidst the blue fog of the aromatics.
TO THE WOODEN GOD
Oh, Venerable Priapos! wooden god that I had fastened in the marble border of
my bath, it is not wrongly, guardian of the orchards, that you keep watch here
o'er the courtesans.
God, we did not buy you to sacrifice to you our maidenhood. Naught can return
that which no longer is, and the zealots of Pallas do not run the streets of
Amathus.
No. Formerly you watched over the tresses of the trees, the blooms well-watered,
the heavy, tasteful fruits. That is why we have chosen you.
Preserve today our blond heads, the open poppies of our lips and the violets of our
eyes. Preserve the solid fruits of our breasts and give us lovers who resemble you.
58