yet if you had a desire for good or beautiful thingsand your tongue were not concocting some evil to sayshame would not hold down your eyesbut rather you would speak about what is just
In fact she herself once blamed meKyprogeneiabecause I prayed this word:I want.
Eros, again now, the loosener of limbs troubles me,Bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable creature….
]sing to usthe one with violets in her lap]mostly]goes astray
…gracious your form and your eyes as honey : desire is poured upon your lovely face Aphrodite has honored you exceedingly…
There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse.
The touched heart madly stirs,your laughter is water hurrying over pebbles – every gesture is a proclamation,every sound is speech…
Someone will remember us I sayEven in another time
We shall enjoy itAs for him who findsfault, may sillinessand sorrow take him!
Evening you gather backall that dazzling dawn has put asunder:you gather a lamb, gather a kid,gather a child to its mother.
Once again Love, that loosener of limbs,bittersweet and inescapable, crawling thing,seizes me.
The angel of spring the mellow-throated nightingale.
Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.