XVIII THE STORIES
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
I AM loved by the little children; when they see me they run to me and cling to my tunic or clasp my legs in their little arms.
If they have gathered flowers, they give them all to me; if they have caught a beetle, they put it in my hand; if they have nothing, they caress me and make me sit before them.
Then they kiss me on the cheek, they rest their heads upon my breasts; they supplicate me with their eyes. I know well what they would say.
They would say: “Dear Bilitis, tell us, for we are quiet, the history of the hero Perseus or the death of the little Hellé.”