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Home  »  Poetica Erotica  »  From “The Songs of Bilitis”XXXVIII. The Little House

T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.

From “The Songs of Bilitis”XXXVIII. The Little House

By Pierre Louÿs (1870–1925)
 
(1894. Translated from the French by Horace Manchester Brown. 1904)

THE LITTLE house in which is his bed is the prettiest in all the world. It is made with the branches of trees, four walls of dried earth, and a roof of thatch.
  1
  I love it, for, since the nights have grown cold, we have slept there together: and the cooler the nights are the longer are they also. When I rise with the coming of the day, even I, find myself weary.  2
  The mattress is upon the ground: two coverlids of black wool cover our bodies, which warm each other. His body presses against my breasts. My heart throbs.  3
  He presses me so closely that he will crush me, poor little girl that I am. But when he is within me, I know nothing more in the world, and they might cut off my limbs without recalling me from my ecstasy.  4