Songs of Bilitis - Benjamin Adamah

THE TOMB OF A YOUNG COURTESAN
Here lies the fragile body of Lydia, little dove, the happiest of all the courtesans,
who, more than any other, cared for orgies, and floating hair, soft dances and
hyacinth-colored tunics.
More than any other she adored the savorous throat-caresses, kisses on the
check, games that the lamp alone is witness of, and love which breaks the body
with its strength. And now she is a little shade.
But, before she was entombed, her hair was marvelously dressed, and she was
laid in roses; the very slab that covers her is soaked with essences and sweet
perfumes.
Sacred earth, nurse of all that is, gently receive the poor dead girl, cradle her in
your arms, oh, Mother! and all about the headstone of the grave permit no thorns
and prickly nettle-growths, but cause white and tender violets to spring.
THE LITTLE FLOWER-VENDOR
"Yesterday," Naïs said to me, "I was in the square, when a little girl in scarlet
rags and tatters walked up and offered roses to a cluster of young men. And this
is what I heard:
'Buy something from me. --Explain yourself, little creature, for we don't know
what you're selling: yourself? your roses? or both of them together? --If you buy
all these flowers, I will give you mine for nothing.
--And how much do you want for all your roses? --My mother must have six oboli,
or I'll be beaten like a bitch. --Follow us and you shall have a drachma. --Then
should I go and get my little sister?'
And both of them followed these men. They had no breasts, Bilitis. They did not
even know how to smile. They trotted off like kids led to the slaughter."
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