CXXXVII THE YOUNG MOTHER
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
BELIEVE not, Myromeris, that, in becoming a mother, thou hast lessened thy beauty. See how thy body, beneath thy robe, has drowned its slim form in a voluptuous softness.
Thy breasts are two vast flowers, reversed upon thy chest, whose cut stems give out a milky sap. Thy softened belly swoons beneath the hand.
And now consider the tiny babe born of a quiver which thou didst feel, one evening, in the arms of a passer-by whose name thou dost not even know. Dream of her distant destiny.
Her eyes which now scarcely open will one day be elongated by a line of black fard, and they will sow among men sorrow or joy by one movement of their lashes.