CXXII THE JUGGLER
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
WHEN the first dawn blended with the feeble glimmer of the torches, I sent into the orgie a flute-player, vicious and agile, who trembled a little, being cold.
Praise the little girl of the blue lids, of the short hair, of the sharp breasts, clad only in a girdle from which hung yellow ribbons and the stems of black iris.
Praise her! for she was adroit and performed difficult tricks. She juggled with hoops, without breaking anything in the room, she glided through them like a grasshopper.
Sometimes she made a wheel, bending upon her hands and feet. Or, with her two legs in the air and her knees apart, she curved herself backward and touched the ground, laughing.