LXXXVI THE EFFORT
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
AGAIN! enough of sighs and stretching arms! Recommence! Thinkest thou, then, that love is a recreation? Gyrinno, it is a task, and of all the most rude.
Awaken, thou! Thou shall not sleep! What to me are thy blue eyelids and the bar of pain which burns thy thin legs. Astarte seethes in my loins.
We entered our couch with the twilight. Behold already the wicked dawn; but I am not wearied with so little. I will not sleep before the second evening.
I will not sleep; neither shalt thou sleep. Oh! how bitter is the taste of morning! Gyrinno, realize it. The embraces are more difficult, but stranger and softer.