XXIX THE FLUTE
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
FOR the day of Hyacinthus he gave me a syrinx made of carefully cut reeds united with white wax which was sweet as honey to my lips.
He taught me to play, seated upon his knees; but I trembled a little. He played after me; so softly that I could scarcely hear him.
We had nothing to say to each other, so near we were, one to the other; but our songs replied to each other and, by turns, our lips touched the flute.
It has grown late, there is the song of the green frogs who begin with the night. My mother will never believe that I have stayed so long searching for my lost girdle.