Translated by Astyages
Chapter 1
THE BUCOLIC LIFE IN PAMPHYLIA
“Hady`de’moi to`me’lisma. kai` _e’n sy’rhiggi meli’sd_o
k_e’n aul_o*i lale’_o, k_e’n d_o’naki, k_e’n plagiau’l_o*i.”
THEOCRITUS.
1 — THE TREE
I had undressed to climb a tree;
my naked thighs embraced smooth, moist bark;
my sandals walked on the branches.
All on high, but still under the leaves
and shaded from the heat, I was horseback
riding in a secluded fork balancing
my feet in the void
It had rained. Drops of water fell and
flowed over my skin. My hands were
dirtied with moss, and my toes were
red, because of the crushed flowers.
I felt the beautiful tree live when the wind
passed through it; then my legs could go no further
and I applied my open lips
to the mossy nape of a branch.
2 — PASTORAL SONG
I must sing a pastoral song, to invoke
Pan, god of the summer wind. I guard my
flock and Selenis guards hers, under the round shadow
of a trembling olive-tree.
Selenis is lying in the meadow. She
stands and runs, or searches for cicadas, or
picks flowers with herbs, or washes
her face in the cold water of the stream.
Me, I pull wool from the blond backs of the
sheep to fill my distaff, and I spin it. The hours are long.
An eagle passes across the sky.
The shadows turn: let’s swap the basket
of figs and the jar of milk. I must sing
a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.
3 — MATERNAL SPEECH
My mother bathed me in darkness, she
dressed me in full sun and combed my hair in
the light; but if I left by the light of the moon,
she tightened my girdle and made a double knot.
She says to me: “Play with the virgins, dance
with little children; don’t look out the window;
fly from the speech of young men
and doubt the counsel of widows.
“One evening, someone, as for everyone, will
come to carry you over the threshold in the middle of a
large procession of sonorous drums and lover’s flutes.
“On that night, when you grow up, Bilito, you
will leave me three gourds of gall: one for
the morning, one for midday, and the third,
the most bitter, the third for the days of the feast.”
4: BARE FEET
I have black hair, growing long down my back,
and a little round skull-cap. My shirt is
of white homespun. My closed legs
turn brown in the sun.
If I lived in town, I would have jewels of gold,
and gilded shirts and shoes of silver…
I look at my naked feet, in their shoes of dust.
Psophis! Come here, you poor little thing! Take me
to the springs, wash my feet in your
hands and press olives together with violets
to perfume them with the flowers.
Today you will be my slave; you will
follow me and you will serve me, and at the end of
the day I will give you, for your mother,
some lentils from my garden.
5 – THE OLD MAN AND THE NYMPHS
An old blind man lived on the mountain.
For having looked upon the nymphs, his eyes
had been dead for a long time. And ever since,
his happiness was a distant memory.
“Yes, I saw them, he said to me.
Helopsychria, Limnanthis; they were
awake, near the edge of Physos’ pond.
The bright water was above their knees.
The napes of their necks inclined under their
long hair. Their nails were slender
like the wings of the cicada. Their nipples
were cupped like the flowers of the hyacinth.
Their fingers played with the water
and pulled long-stemmed water-lilies from
an invisible vase. Around their separated thighs,
the ripples spread… “
6 — SONG
Stiff-necked tortoise, what are you doing there in the middle?
I’m winding the yarn and the thread of Miletus.
Alas alas! Don’t you want to come and dance?
I am in great pain. I am in great pain…
Stiff-necked tortoise, what are you doing there in the middle?
I’m cutting a reed for the funerary flute.
Alas! Alas! What happened?
I will not tell, I will not tell.
Stiff-necked tortoise, what are you doing there in the middle?
I’m pressing olives to make the oil for the gravestone [stele]
Alas! Alas! And who has died?
How can you ask me? How can you ask me?
Stiff-necked tortoise, what are you doing there in the middle?
He has fallen into the sea…
Alas! Alas! How did that happen?
From on top of white horses. From on top of white horses.
7 – THE PASSER-BY
As I was sitting one evening in front of the door
of the house, a young man came passing by.
He looked at me, I turned my head away.
He spoke to me, I didn’t answer.
He wanted to approach me. I took a cleaver (?) [?faulx?] from
Against the wall and would have split his cheek
If he had advanced a single step.
Then, recoiling a little, he put on a smile and
whispered to me through his hand, saying,
“Receive the kiss.” And I shouted and I cried
so that my mother came running.
Worried, thinking that I had been stung by
a scorpion, I cried: “He kissed me.”
My mother also kissed me and took me
into her arms.
8 — THE DREAM
It was already fully day… I had to be
up! But morning sleep is sweet and
the warmth of my bed keeps me curled up.
I want to stay and sleep some more.
Soon I shall be in the stable. I
will give grass and flowers to the goats,
and the goatskin of cold water drawn from
the well, where I will drink at the same time as they.
Then I shall tie them to a stake to milk
their sweet warm udders; and if the
kids are not anxious, I shall suck
with them their now-supple heads.
Did not Amaltheia nourish Zeus?
I will go then. But not yet. The sun
came up too soon and my mother is not yet awake.
9 — THE RAIN
The gentle rain has moistened everything, very
softly, and in silence. It is still raining a
little. I shall go out under the trees. Feet
naked, so as not to dirty my shoes.
The rain in spring is delicious. The
branches loaded with moist flowers have a
perfume which makes me giddy. I can see the
delicate skin of the bark shining in the sun.
Alas! For the flowers on the earth! Have
pity on the fallen flowers. You must not
sweep them into the dirt; but
save them for the queen bees.
The scarabs and the snails cross the
way between the puddles of water; I don’t want
to walk on them, nor to startle the sleeping
lizard which stretches itself and blinks its eyelids
10 — THE FLOWERS
Nymphs of the woods and streams, beneficent
friends, I have come. Do not hide,
but come and help me because I am sorely pained
by so many plucked flowers
I wish to choose from among the whole forest one
poor hamadryad with raised arms. And from
her hair, the colour of leaves I shall pick
my most sultry rose.
See: I have taken so many to the fields that
I could not carry them back unless you make me
A bouquet. If you refuse me, take care:
Those of you with red hair I
Saw yesterday made erect like a beast by the
Satyre Lamprosathes, and I denounce
the impudence.
11 — IMPATIENCE
I threw myself into her arms and cried, and
for a long time she felt my hot tears
cool on her shoulder, before my sadness
let me speak:
“Alas! I am just a child; the
young men do not look at me. When
will I have the breasts of a young girl like yours
which swell the robe and tempt to kiss?
No-one has curious eyes if my tunic
slips; no-one will pick up a flower fallen
from my hair; no-one tells me he will kill me if
my mouth gives itself to another.
She replied to me tenderly: “Bilitis,
little virgin, you cry like a cat at
the moon and you distress yourself without cause. The
most impatient girls are not the earliest chosen.
12 — COMPARISONS
Wagtail, bird of Kypris, sing
with our first desires! The new bodies
of young girls are covered in flowers like
the earth. The night of all our dreams approaches
and we chat amongst ourselves.
Sometimes we compare out beauty,
so different, our hair already long,
our young breasts still small
our pubes round like quails and giddy under
their new-born feathers.
Yesterday I wrestled with destiny against Melancthon
my elder. She was proud of her chest which
sprang up in only a month, and, pointing to
my flat tunic, called me: “little child”.
Not a man could see us, we
mimicked nakedness in front of the girls, and if she
won on one point, I took it further on others.
Wagtail, bird of Cyprus, sing with our first desires!
13 — THE RIVER IN THE FOREST
I was bathing alone in the river
In the forest. Without doubt I scared
The nyads as I hardly understood their troubles from
So far off, under the dark water.
I called them. To resemble them
Entirely, I wove Irises, black as my hair
behind my toes, with the
clusters of yellow wallflowers.
From the long floating grass, I made
Myself a green girdle, and to see it I
pressed my breasts and inclined my head a little.
And I called out: “Nyads! Nyads! Come
And play with me! Be nice!” But the nyads
Were transparent, and perhaps, without
Knowing it, I had caressed their supple arms.
14 — PHITTA MELIAI
When the sun burns less fiercely
We shall go to play beside the river, we
Shall wrestle for a fragile crocus or for a moist hyacinth.
We will make a necklace for the bout and a
garland for the race. We will take each other
by the hand and by the tails of our tunics.
Phitta Meliai! Give us honey. Phitta
Nyads! Let us bathe with you. Phitta Miliades!
Give us sweet shade for our sweaty bodies.
And we offer you, beneficent Nymphs,
Not disgraceful wine, but oil and
Milk and goats and curved horns.
15 — THE SYMBOLIC RING
The travellers who return to Sardis
speak of the necklaces and precious stones which
burden the women of Lydia, from the top of
their hair down to their painted feet.
The girls of my country have no bracelets
nor diadems, but their finger carries one
golden ring, and on the setting is engraved
the triangle of the goddess.
When they turn the point outwards
this means: Psyche is to take them. When
they turn the point inwards, that
means: Psyche has taken them.
The men there believe. The women don’t.
for me I don’t look much at which way
the point is turned, because Psyche delivers
them easily. Psyche is always to take them.
16 — DANCES IN THE MOONLIGHT
On the soft grass, at night, the young
girls with violets in their hair danced
together, and one of two made
reply to the suitors.
The virgins said: “We are not for
you” And as they were shameless
they hid their virginity. An Egyptian [?aegipan?]
played a flute under the trees.
The others said: “You must
come and look for us.” They clawed at the robes
and tunics of the man, and they struggled without
energy while mingling their dancing legs.
Then each one proclaimed himself vanquished, and took
his friend by the ears as one takes a cup by the
two handles, and, with inclined heads,
drank their kisses.
17 — THE LITTLE CHILDREN
The river is nearly dry; the withered
reeds are dying in the mud; the air burns,
and, far from the hollow banks,
a clear stream trickles over the gravel.
It is there where from morning to night naked little
children come to play. They bathe,
no higher than their calves, because the
river is low.
But they wade in the current, and
slip sometimes on the rocks and the
little boys throw water over the
laughing little girls.
And when a group of merchants passes,
leading enormous white bulls to drink in the stream,
they crossed their hands behind their backs
and watched the huge beasts.
18 — THE STORY
I am loved by little children; those who
See me, run to me and cling
to my tunic, clasping my legs in
their little arms.
If they have cut flowers, they give them all
to me; if they have caught a scarab they
put it into my hand; if they have nothing, they
kiss me and make me sit down in front of them.
Then they kiss me on the cheek, they
rest their heads against my breast; and beg
me with their eyes. I know very well what
that means.
That means: “Dear Bilitis, tell us,
as we are good, the story of the hero
Perseus or the death of little Helle.”
19 — THE MARRIED FRIEND
Our mothers were pregnant at the same time and this
night she was married, Melissa, my
dearest friend. The roses are still on the
road; the torches have not finished burning.
And I return by the same path, with
Mummy, and I imagine: Thus, today is hers,
so I too will be able to also.
Am I not already a big girl?
The procession, the flutes, the nuptial song and
the flowered chariot of the spouse, all these festivities,
one more night, unrolls in front of me,
among other things, olive branches.
As at this same hour Melissa, I
shall reveal myself in front of a man, I shall know
love in the night, and later the little
children will nourish themselves at my swelling breasts…
20 — SECRETS
The next day, I went to her house, and
we blushed when we saw each other.
She bade me enter into her bedroom
so we could be alone together.
I had lots of things to say to her; but
I forgot them all upon seeing her. I
didn’t even dare to throw myself
upon her neck. I looked at her high girdle.
I was astonished that nothing was changed on her
face, that she seemed to be still my friend and yet
in the interval, since the vigil, she had
Learned so much that startled me.
Suddenly I sat on her knees, and I took
Her into my arms, I whispered into her ear
Quickly, anxiously. Then she put her mouth
Against my ear, and told me everything.
21 — THE BLUE-EYED MOON
At night, the hair of the women tangles in the
branches of the willows. I
walk beside the water’s edge. Suddenly,
I heard singing: Only then I
recognized that they were young girls.
I said to them: “What are you singing?” They
answered: “The Homecomers.” The one
waited for her father and the other her brother; but
the one who waited for her fiancé was the most impatient.
They had woven for themselves coronets
and garlands, cut palms from
palm-trees and pulled lotuses from the water. They
held each other by the neck and sang, one
after the other.
I had walked the length of the stream, sadly,
and all alone, but when I looked around
me, I saw that behind the large trees the
Moon with blue eyes had led me back.
22 — REFLECTIONS (not translated)
(Okay piglets, here is the first collection of songs from ‘The Life of Bilitis’; this ‘lyrical novel’ is written in three parts of which ‘The Bucolic Life in Pamphylia’ is the first. As there were more songs than I remembered there being, I have posted not only the first half-dozen, but the first 21 or 22. NB Song no. 22 is not translated because this is a little device by the author to suggest authenticity through the use of deliberate lacunae. There are, at various places in the text, a handful of words I have been unable to translate; I think they mostly refer to either ancient items of clothing, or other ancient items whose names are not commonly used in modern French; at least, I couldn’t find them in my French/English dictionary. Where there was the least bit of doubt as to the intended meaning of a word, I have given that word in brackets after its translation. Asty).
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 