XXXIV THE INTERRUPTED SLEEP
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
ALL alone I fell asleep like a partridge in the heather.... The light wind, the murmuring of the waters, the sweetness of the night, all held me there.
Imprudently I slept and awakened with a cry, and I struggled, and I wept. But already it was too late. What can the hands of a child do?
He would not leave me. Rather, with greater tenderness, he pressed me closer to him, and I saw in all the world neither the earth nor the trees but only the light in his eyes....
To thee, Cypris victorious, I consecrate these offerings still moist with the dew, vestiges of the pains of virginity, witnesses of my sleep and of my resistance.