CXVI THE WARM GIRDLE
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
“THOU thinkest thou lovest me no longer, Teleas, and since a month thou hast passed thy nights at the table, as though the fruits, the wines, the honey, could make thee forget my lips. Thou thinkest that thou lovest me no longer, poor fool!”
Saying that, I loosened my moist girdle and I rolled it about his head. It was still quite warm with the heat of my body; the perfume of my skin issued from its fine meshes.
He breathed it deeply, his eyes closed, then I felt that he returned to me and I even saw very clearly his reawakening desires that he hid not from me, but, as a ruse, I resisted him.
“No, my friend. This evening, Lysippos possesses me. Farewell!” And I added, as I fled: “O gormand of fruits and greens! the little garden of Bilitis has only one fig, but it is good.”