LXIX WORDS IN THE NIGHT
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
WE rest, our eyes closed, the silence is deep about our couch. Ineffable Nights of summer! But she, believing me asleep, lays her warm hand upon my arm.
She murmurs: “Bilitis, thou sleepest?” My heart throbs, but, without response, I respire regularly like a woman couched in dreams. Then she begins to speak:
“Because thou hearest me not,” she says, “ah! how I love thee!” And she repeats my name: “Bilitis.... Bilitis....” And she touches me with the tips of her trembling fingers.
“It is mine, this mouth! mine alone! Is there another so beautiful in the world? Ah! my happiness, my happiness! Mine are these naked arms, this neck and hair....”