THE SONG OF THE SHEPHERDESS

Josef  Maria Mayer

”I am a rose...
Ready for true love.”
(The minstral patriarch)


FIRST CHAPTER

Myrrha I will sing, the shepherdess, and Daphnis,
Their love for each other. -
On the Athenian court of the tyrant Demokrates,
There was Myrrha,
Demokrates had send her to his harem,
Where the Magna Mater’s Priestess
The pretty female slaves of the loving monarch ruled.
In the cool marble colonnades
Chirped the girls excitedly about the stoics,
All of them chosen virgins,
From the Greeks
Chosen for the court of Demokrates.

Three of these girls were sitting together
On a green summer meadow
In the interior courtyards of the marble palace,
Since they as wives of the tyrant lived:
Atalante, Melitta and Perinna.
Atalante was a black-haired girl from Greece
With good silver jewelry,
Perinna wore auburn curls
And was a little intimidated,
Melitta in the flood of her fair curls
Showed the rosy mouth of graceful slenderness.

Then came Myrrha,
She approached the court of females in the meadow,
The jewel of Demokrates
In the past three weeks since he courted,
He only had eyes for her.
Myrrha, the shepherdess of Arcadia,
This beautiful pasture of Greece,
Myrrha, the beautyful:
Her golden hair like wheat fields,
Her eyes blue as the sky,
Glorious her body and incomparably
And a song of the Muses Myrrha’s voice.

O Myrrha, what did the other women sang to you?
Did not tell the bitter Clio, the chief of the harems:
”Daphnis, the dreaming shepherd,
Dreams as between anemones,
To let you know, Myrrha, he is too dreamy, oh,
And a poor shepherd too.
But now, said Clio, you’re at the court of Demokrates,
There's wealth and power to the side of his throne,
Him shall you seek to please, O sister Myrrha”,
Spoke Clio, the old, no longer have been sought as a woman.

Atalante, Perinna and Melitta
Cried to the beautiful shepherdess Myrrha:
”Rejoice that you are walking here between blue-eyed violets,
Daughter of Arcadian songs,
Because Demokrates will haunt you in this summer night,
To entwine you with his passionate arms,
To kiss you with the chirping of his lips,
The chirp of his tongue, the quail of his mouth,
Therefore rejoice, O daughter of Arcadia, Myrrha,
Because his kisses are still healing as balm,
Sweeter than the hymns of the nightingale,
More rich in comfort even than the wine of Chios,
Which Homer already sacrificed to the gods.”

Myrrha said, “The Unknown God may forgive you,
Homer, you are the greatest of all poets! -
But I think the passion of the tyrant means nothing,
It offends the delicate mood of the shepherdess,
Who used to wander with lambs
And not used to play with wolves.”

Clio, the priestess of the Magna Mater,
Chief of her harem maidens,
Went up to her with a dignified response:
”O Myrrha, your name it is, which inspired me,
Because it is a sound so sweet
As oil from the myrrh in Palestine,
With wich anoint their feet the kings
And the philosophers their heads
In the lobbies of the Platonic academies,
Virgins her white limbs for their beloved ones -
So you, O Myrrha, are an ointment for the noble Lord Demokrates.
And not only to the tyrant you are lovely,
The harem maidens in the garden

Of the Magna Mater love you dearly,
O Myrrha, for you are comfortable in body and spirit -
Yes with a loving shepherd’s wisdom you're blessed
By your Unknown God!”

”Ah”, Atalante and Perinna shouted with one voice,
”You're a good girlfriend to us.
Because if we do not have to compete
For the affection of our tyrant,
(For he is now the most fond of you)
Then we can be girlfriends
In games and entertainment
And in the sports of delight in idle things.”
Melitta added:
”And bless the statue of our Queen of Heaven
With the beautiful rosary alltogether!”

A sweet and spicy breeze rustled
As delicate doves flying over the meadow,
For not in thunder spoke to her the God,
But in a soft breath to Myrrha.
And the violets leaned in delicate grace before the wind
And looked out of her blue cups of eyes
According to the effects of the intellectual wind,
For there was a sweet trembling

In the beautiful grass of the meadow.

”Didst you not saw”, asked Atalante,
”The tyrants quarters, the charm will end for you,
Because he wants to practice the love of your soft limbs?” -
”But how that?” indignantly Myrrha said,
”I am a pure virgin,
Despite all adverse fate
And loyal to my dear shepherd, the arcadian Daphnis.
I will save the day of my wedding.
Demokrates may still advertise so much as he wants,
He likes me even assailed, harry
I’ll refuse his fate in stoic composure,
In platonic lust-abstinence,
In arcadian love and loyalty to Daphnis!”

The girls said to Myrrha:
”You will see Demokrates’ stock instead,
Because your female heart would succumb to weakness
And melt with fervent heat of bliss,
For his pigeons are very soft cushions,
As clouds of silk and perfume,
Comely the smell its aroma baths;
Lavender he adores,
And for your sake, O Myrrha, certainly the myrrh!”

”For all I care,” puffed on the pretty Melitta,
"Does he love Melitta, she calms his heart as well,
As he stormed so in passion,
For he was burning hot and fiery,
When he saw my lips and my shoulders.”
She threw her curls in the back
And stalked off like a peacock, in proud elegance.

Just at that moment looked from afar
The ruler Demokrates to the girls.
Those who dwelt for some time in the harem,
Felt their heart beat;
Myrrha only felt cool distance.
The others, especially the black curly Atalante, worshiped:
”O my beloved tyrant! Demokrates, my Lord!
Turn once again to your harem,
To the sweetest of your court,
They want you to pay homage in courtly love!”
Demokrates smiled proud and flattered
On the submission of her beauty,
For she confirmed him in his manly manhood:
”You pretty creatures, I can be your joy,
What shall I do for your delight?”

Clio, the abbess of the gentile girls, whispered softly:
”O beloved tyrant, O Lord, your love
Makes the girls beat the heart!
Your smile, your laugh makes their souls live!
Have you taken them in pleasure,
Thus they cheer in mind and senses,
They are happy in your joy!
Give one of them a kiss,
And all are wild with jealousy;
And kiss each one, and each wants to be the only one!”

Demokrates continued to smile like a proud rooster
And flattered as a hunting dog.
He looked at Myrrha, the most beautiful girl, and felt...
Words failed him.

SECOND CHAPTER

The harem daughters talked to Myrrha
With a voice that sounded like a trickling spring,
Like nightingales, like sand between your fingers:
”Women, what do you look to the demons on my skin?
Sure, I'm as white as milk,
As milk of the Magna Mater,
White as the snow on Mount Athos
Or the eternal splendor of the Olymp.
You can boast of beautiful tan your skin,
That so much loves the tyrant,
But never once has my skin’s white colour, like milk of the moon,
Saved me from his pursuit.
I'm also known as silk from China,
White as ivory from the tower of Lebanon,
White as the unicorns of the Iberian Celts,
So I'm still lovely!
Yes, my beloved like the delicate pallor
Of my girl’s skin very well.”

The girls said: “Hast thou never
In the amused gaze of the sun thy limbs bathed
And bathed in the springs of Arcadia, merely
Created just like you,
That thou mayest have brownish skin?
Or were you accustomed to steal you secretly
In the shadows, in the hut,
When did others their work

And went with the herds, o shepherdess,
In the sweat of their face, tell us where you were then.”

Myrrha said, “I was probably in the eyes of the sun to throw me
Through the rows of vines, I went
And plucked me in a large basket on the back
The plump ripe grapes in the afternoon, yet I did not rest,
But caught up with the harvest in the vineyards
Of my older brothers Luke and Menon,
But my skin still remained a vineyard,
The grapes were not ripe and dark;
As hung white drops of milk on the branches,
With the harvested grapes I spent my time in the sun.
But women, a thought comes to me:
The sun at noon has a white face.”

Myrrha got up and walked sideways of a acacia tree,
That on the edge of the patio spread its branches overshadowing,
Under this tree she sat down,
Fetched her pipe from the drawstring bag and blew,
And let the mind wander as dreamy clouds in summer winds
And then spoke softly, as she herself whisper in her beloved ear:

”O beloved Daphnis, my pure shepherd,
Tell me, where are you now? See,
I have such a longing for your strong arms, fiery shepherd,
That they embrace me! I want to eat you, my beloved!
Lo, Love is longing for closeness.
I long for your neighborhood.
I am a woman, that loves to be near to you,

Whose soul seeks unity and fusion
With all the passion of the soul.
Are you now in high noon shadow of our general love tree,
In the breath of balmy breezes,
And talk to the favorite of your soul, the Unknown God?
May I tenderly and timid like a sweet white dove
Come near to you with your lips and beaks,
The cooing words I whisper,
My dear, I may ask? O Love!
I love you with all my heart,
With my mind full of sadness
At the court of the tyrant I long for you,
For you, dear Daphnis,
In the shadow of your shepherd’s grazing lime!”

Myrrha let ran her delicate white fingers
Soft and tender and dreamy
On the blue-green leaves of acacia,
As a prelude to tender,
As a stringed instrument of love quietly and intimately caressing
Because she dreamed of the fair hair and beard
Of her beloved shepherd,
In his softness she wanted playfully caressing to dig.

She takes her purple veil
Of transparent glow,
Round her head, and went as a veiled virgin,
A renunciate,  a mourner, a Vestal,
So she went through the many veils
Into the inside of the ivory tower,
That floated around the ebony staircase
And as such military banners fluttered gloriously
And like moths rapturously tender,
And entered into the floor and sighed.

”Oh,” she sighed at the window
And looked in beautiful melancholy
And full of love,  full of sadness
In the distance of the Athenian landscape,
”Oh, so far away is my beloved Daphnis,
That I can not kiss him and caress him.
Ah woe is me, as the stream runs
Between dead and living, between us, the cold Lethe,
Because I can’t keep Daphnis to my comfort
In my lustful arms and squeeze the favorite,
My friend in my heart that beats with heavy alarm!”

And her blue eyes, like the sky,
Radiant as the summer’s midday
Lost themselves in shiny white clouds,
And as she walked like a shepherdess
With the sea of ​​sheeps trotting,
All the same way, none of a murder,
And went with them into the distance
To the blue flower meadows
And the crystal springs of life,
Where droplets swelled as diamonds of love’s beads.

”Daphnis, now when I see in the spirit,
I'm nearly mistaken,
I see your friend, see Agathon
With the goatee and the stiff shape,
Half man, half goat, and see Pylades
The bloated youth,
He who so naughty stares me on the beautiful breasts,
But where are you, beloved Daphnis, that I can find you
In fields of phantasy, of my daydream,
Beautiful and dear Daphnis and good man.”

This heard Melitta, Atalante and Perinna,
The sighings of love of the lone dove,
And smiled mockingly

From the small window of the ivory tower:
”O Beauty,
You milked beauty of the land,
You want to flee the glory

Of the most beautiful palace in Athen?
You want back to kid and boar
And you wallow in the pouring rain and mud in shit of the sheeps?
Fool you are, you, with your ideal of simplicity and poverty,
You do not appreciate this precious castle of courtly love!
Princess could you be
And dominate as the first courtesan
On the side of the tyrant Demokrates,
You would be worshiped by Greece more
As once Sparta and Troy did Helen honored.
Myrrha, they would say, is the first woman in Greece.
But you want to return to the village to your swineherd?
Foolish fool you are, Myrrha,
Naive and silly is your mind!”

Myrrha was the most beautiful blush of red.
She was the beautiful, well-covered in Arcadia,
In the midst of a lonely pastoral idyll,
A crimson blood blossoming rose resplendent to see.
O Myrrha, Daphnis is not unduly
So utterly charmed by you!


THIRD CHAPTER

Demokrates came laughing into the upper chamber,
Confident he came to Myrrha,
The plane still tender and soft mused,
Blooming like a tearful heart,
White with chastity, red with desire,
With a heart, blooming like burning love,
Like a star, the morning star
From the fire of passion of the mind,
Tender and delicate as the grace of girls.
Unlike Demokrates, he felt like a hero,
A conqueror, a victor,
And said to his latest conquest thus:

”Myrrha is your name, o beauty?
You may search a mare out of my stud,
I have Pythian and Olympic mares,
Winning stallions from Marathon,
Arabian stallions and horses of Kos,
So you may search out just one.
My favorite white mare,
The beautiful Calliope, she is not as gorgeous as you!
If she trembles and evaporated in the race,
Then she is tame compared to your lovely wildness,
To your spirit-filled trembling, o Myrrha!
Calliope’s brown eye is soft and dreamy,
But your beautiful eyes, O Myrrha,
Such a fine delicate ingenuity is in your eyes,
So tender, intimate and tender

Gazest you blessed, my beloved!
Your eyes are as blue violets bloom,
Whose dew look for sobbing of father ether...”

Myrrha winced:
So had her pure Daphnis
Her eyes blue flowers called: forget-me-not...
Daphnis had told one day: “My unicorn!”
Why this lecher Demokrates mimicked similar like an ape

The pure human love of her Daphnis?
What demon inspired this womanizer,
Who hissed the caresses,
What a heavenly beauty, so eternally youthful genius
Insinuated the pure shepherd? O Daphnis!

Since Demokrates raised his voice,
The great tyrant, and spoke with marrowy voice:
”O Beauty, in my favorite mare mane I wove colorful ribbons,
And she looked fine.
When she ran and ran and huffed,
Her magnificent mane fluttered in the storm,
Because of sheer ribbon she was a colorful whirlwind,
A labor of colored beads strung on colorful ribbons.

Dost thou not know, you beautiful Myrrha,
That your hair was still more wonderful,
When pearly beads were woven into it?
Rosy glow of just blossoming poppy
In the wheat field of your fine strands?

And blowing your hair
And your hair flowed in ferocity and sheer rage towards me,
As if it were like fire and gold and dawn, O Myrrha!”

Myrrha stumbled, internally, for she thought:
”How often the tyrant has probably already
The girl's hair braided with ropes of pearls?
Dear to me is my Daphnis, I'm the only one,
He called me his wonderful pearl.”

”Myrrha, Myrrha, Myrrha!
You are to me the most beautiful pearl of the Mediterranean See,
More beautiful than even Our Lady of the Mediterranean;
The pearly mussel on a noise -
Look here this chain, where my artist
The finest pearls strung on a cotton cord,
Because I gave him the job last year,
As I had suspected, that you would come,
You finest pearl of the Archipelagus, Myrrha!”

Myrrha had for the tyrant defiantly simple
A beautiful friendship’s bracelet,
That Daphnis her plaited
In a romantic evening hour,
When his lambs grazed and he lay dreamily in the grass.
She showed it to the tyrant, saying,
”This is the most beautiful jewelry there is on earth.
Beautiful to me, only the Unknown God
Adorned it with the ornament of his Love!”

Demokrates was not misled,
For he was in his riches,
And its seductive effect was safe and blessed:
”O my most beautiful woman,
Here the gold nuggets, look at the silver chain,
This has the first blacksmith made from Asia Minor,
Nobler you never will find a thing. This is yours,
If you explain to me your sweet love.”

The tyrant fell back on his seat of government,
As he was on his couch,
Alexis and Menelaus sat there.
Meanwhile but Myrrha sighed, sighed and sighed,
Full of melancholy and sadness, and sighing for Daphnis:

”As the honeydew of bees the girlfriend,
The girlfriend Melissa, with a fiery heart,
So is my friend, even sweet and cute, comely
And lovely balanced and with a rest for my heart,
You are my joy, you are my sorrow!
Two souls are there in my breast;
As for the soul that sighs for you is
Full of longing for Daphnis, the fair shepherd,
And the other soul is fearful and timid,
Afraid of loving and being loved, oh my Daphnis!”

Myrrha some salty eye drops rolled down
From her love’s caves,
She dried them with the little finger of the left hand,
Full of grace, full of delicate motion, and she sighed again:
”Oh I'm so melancholy in this blue evening,
Melancholy as the dark gloom around
And melancholy as the silvery evening clouds,
The blue-green meadows of loneliness,
Since the sad poppy slumbers in weary winds.
Oh Melancholy! Oh Daphnis!”

She felt a soft hand’s placement of the Unknown God,
Whose mind put a comforting calm her on the trembling soul,
Coming home and finding home,
A feeling like from a cup full of sweet wine,
Full of peace of mind and heart,
Because this showed her the gentle god of shepherds,
When he in dreamy hour with soft and tender lambs
In the evening peace and religious salvation rested.
”Oh Daphnis, my pious brother,
My gentle shepherd in the evening down the pasture!”

Then lay the melancholy, ah,
Tribulation thoughtful before the lonely Shepherdess
On her pillow, no soft lambskin smelling, oh,
But purple duck’s feathers in silk, decorated with brocade,
And she dozed away gently,
The linen bags with rose petals, which was her Daphnis gift
To her beautiful breasts, pressing her tired beating heart.

In the morning, the horizon’s colored fingernails
And red hair with the paste of henna leaves,
The Sun carried a bouquet of flowers of Cypros the day,
Like a bride to her bridegroom henna flowers brings,
A henna flower of the freshwater spring:
Daphnis, the fair shepherd,
Like Henna was a flowering of the freshwater spring
And his kisses were the fresh storage life,
Freshwater spring of Elysium his morning kisses,
When they went in the morning

On a friendly Arcadia meadow,
Were as singing sparrows his kisses,
Were golden sons of joy.

But Demokrates entered
In the swarming Myrrha’s resting cell,
As she whispered her prayer just to the Unknown God,
He disturbed: “Myrrha, fair as the morning, fair as the sun,
The beads are inserted into the rosy hair on a golden mussel ridge
As beautiful as snow-white doves,
From purple morning-clouds smiled sweetly smelling,
Illuminated by the morning star of rubies like diamonds,
Myrrha! your eyes,
Young as sparrows, pure as doves,
Clear as mountain lakes, such as the blue sky,
Light as immortals, Myrrha,
In your eyes, I want to feed my eyes
And let me live in the Elysian Gardens!”

”Ah,” thought Myrrha, “his words flow like oil,
His mouth is dripping like oily butter,
But his whispering of licorice makes me early in the morning already
Quite melancholy, O God!”


FOURTH CHAPTER

At forenoon walked Myrrha
From the harem halls continued a narrow footpath,
Her feet in golden sandals
Played with small pebbles.
On the edge she came by an old oak tree,
Which male-mighty rose;
Three men needed it, to embrace it.

Behind the oak sheeps were grazing,
Myrrha’s heart leaped.
There was a white ewe,
A white male lamb,
A gray woolly sheep with a black head and legs,
A brown lamb and a black sheep.
They ate from the long grass
And Myrrha was made wistful, homesick.

”Oh Daphnis, I live here
Between silk in ivory towers,
Not with you, but I was dreaming
Between oaks and lime trees in the grass,
You told me again the speech of your grandfather:
See, you told me: O see, Myrrha, the clover:
On a clover flower - that's the Unknown God -
You find three leaves - Theos, Logos, Pneuma.
He surrounds you from all sides,
God loves you, and the beauty. And I love you too,
Myrrha! saidst thou, Daphnis.

Oh Daphnis, Daphnis delicate, you’re so fine,
Your beard as soft as grass,
So gauzy and soft downy white fragrant pink,

Soft pastel blooms with tenderness.
Your teeth are as white as the milk of ewes
Or the white flower of clover.

Envelope again as you, cool at night,
I composed myself. Radiant woman in the coat,
Smile at me as delicate as the nymph roses,
The delicate rose-pink roses grace, which are nice and light.

How I wish I would be with you again in the forest,
At evening, since your sister,
The golden Pythonissa went with us,
Her delicate lips like petals of roses, smiling grace.
And the evening sun shone
Through the dark trunks of the thick pines.
Danced on the soft brown forest’s soil
Our enamored youth enthusiastically with the torches.
Quietly, our caresses,
That we the tender deers and hinds
And unicorns and centaurs not scare.
We gave laughing reply
To the delicious sound of wood pigeons,
Which just as ourself cooed.
Pythonissa plucked, the buxom beauty,
For us a colorful bouquet, beloved! she said
And cow parsley and yarrow she showed to us
And purple flowers and poppy red.
You, wast-hearted man, strong zest for life
And tribes you had smitten through the forest
And had cried: My burning love!
Bears and lions I ring down for Myrrha, my love! -
O Daphnis, you my hero, you hero of my heart!”

Now did sent the tyrant Demokrates a messenger,
An eunuch of the kingdom’s harem
With a letter to Myrrha:
”Demokrates, tyrant of Athens, he sends to Myrrha,
The first of his wives, this flattering ode:
Gorgeous, you’re a bean blossom between beanstalk,
A purple flower between nettles.
Thee I have chosen with the fire of my mind
And the blazing flame of my flesh.
Come into my private rooms,
I will prepare a bed for you there.
You shall transmit Pindar in the Greek tongue
And Sappho and sing songs to the lyre.
I will look for you woman
To thy dying god, the Unknown God.
Come, O come, and let us hasten, O Myrrha!”

She tores up the letter with the wet flattery
Into a thousand pieces and threw them into the fire.
She slapped her with angry tears on the leg
And began to praise the shepherd Daphnis:

”My favorite, the son of the stranger, the shepherd!
He’s like a peach tree in overgrown trees of Jude!
His fruit, his love is sweet.
And his kisses patronize my palate
Like a fresh summer fruit.
His branches full of leaves and delicate flowers
Take cool shade in the midday heat,
So enjoyable is his presence,
He is wonderfully refreshing.

His lips are delicious as the best red wine from Cyprus.
He took me to the terrace of vines in his love,
Among the drunken evening sky of the lust of his soul,
To the tavern sign of his loyalty -
The ever faithful swan god of poets -
And praised me with beads on the tongue the only one:

Who is Love, may bless our love!
His love in purple flag with the white dove of love
Fluttering over us in the westwind of the spring!
And I would be drunken of the sweet kisses of my Daphnis,
As of spring wind kissing, kissing spirit,
Cypriot wines equal in strength and sweetness.
I danced with his kisses to the stars before our eyes,
The pearls of the night,
Where it counts the fifteen praise of the divine love
In the heart of the Unknown God!

Evoe! God! Oh I’d like to kiss
Elysium and Arcadia, the gardens of heaven,
Where Daphnis dwells in his love and dreams with me
And feeds among peonies well in fiery love
Like a flaming dance of the blessed genii
And the daughters of joy, daughters of Elysium, daughters of God!
I am sick with longing,
I am sick with love for my good shepherd!”


FIFTH CHAPTER

In Arcadia, in the cabin of her holiday, slumbered Myrrha,
The heavy white lids lowered
On the blue diamonds of her eyes,
Her soft nostrils quivering.
Her high breasts bulged lifted and fell with quiet breathing,
She turned from the left to the right side.
Outside the hut were the chicken and slept well.
But as the morning approached, began the rooster crowing.
He had a gorgeous red plumage and a ruby ​​red comb,
As the flames rhymed with the dawn.

As she awoke, thought Myrrha
Full of longing to her lover:
”Daphnis, you dreamer of God, you cypros flower,
You are not a sad scapegrace,
You are a favorite of the Unknown God!
And my favorite too! Oh, how I miss you!
I go to the lake in Arcadia here, Cyane,
And bathe my feminine milky limbs in crystalline clarity,
I think of thee, that thou in a laurel bush
Waiting with closed eyes on me
And givest me some linen shirts and a long skirt,
I clothe me in white and blue,
Oh dear, look at me, look at me, my dear,
But look at me chaste and not with awesome looks,
For my heart is anxious and afraid of love!
Daphnis, will you be considerate of my timidity?”

With a daisy in her hand
Myrrha was sitting in the hut with a jug of milk
And picking counted petal to petal:
”He comes, he does not come, he comes, he does not come,
Behold, he cometh! My lover is coming!”
In fact, she looked out the window
After Daphnis and looked remotely close,
From a distance she saw her fair shepherd
In the melancholic dark blue dress.
But he was so happy and in such a joy,
He hopped like Chiron, the master of the Centaurs,
In his youth, full of gaiety, like a silly little fool,
Dancing like a bluebell in the wind back and forth,
Jumping like a love-bunny back and forth,
Swirling like dandelion seeds when the wind plays with them.
Daphnis, Daphnis, as hopping not only your limbs,
Your hot heart leaped for joy,
Because delights as the current watered Pedhieos are in your man's heart,
Youth and rose-buds and morning glow was yours!

Daphnis, O, you saw your Myrrha!
Finally, you saw her again!
Wheat in full gold and sky blue,
A happy wedding of Heaven and Earth
Was Myrrha, the Blessed Virgin!

Her blue diamonds, like stars of the sea,
As blue as air full of fire, scintillating
And flowing a sheer abundance soul.
O Daphnis, dip in the blue ponds,
The cornflower blue of her eyes,
Bath full of lust in the love of her soul,
And play in the fair hair of her wheat,
Redolent of poppy milk,
Caresses her hair to say,
Come in power and flood, O Daphnis, ecstatic,
And seal the lips of her love letter
With the blood-red hot wax of your kiss! -
”Myrrha, come, my girl,
Do not let yourself quietly and gently kiss, beloved!”

How long the two had not seen themselfs!
What pain of sad separation
Now found salvation in a game hands tenderly intimate love,
The tender love of buttons and braiding.
Myrrha, wellbeloved! Daphnis, my beloved!

As they wonder about each other,
Whether all the lovely fantasies of loneliness
Corresponded to the reality?
Whether the mouth so soft? The eye so light?
The fine hair like that? The hand so tender?
The bosom around like that? The line so melodious?
And the hours were now hours of language
And of trust, understanding, they change speeches,
The union of their souls in love,
Of wonder, the harmonious silence,
The singing and cooing of love’s birds.

The dove felt knocked her hot heart
And her breasts tremble.
The nightingale sang a passionate fiery anthem
For the love of her sweet madness,
Her sweet madness, charming imbecility,
Her poetic swarming.
The swan and the female swan sang beautifully on the Cyane Lake
About Elysium and eternal bliss
And the glory of the God of Love!
The larks with golden jubilee bowed
Charismatic singing in the palace of the morning breeze
Before the glorious light.

The ornamental and fragrant roses bloom
And glowed deep in the beds of spices.
Daphnis went into the garden of balm
And picked a silky chaste lily for Myrrha
And this mere flower dressed in a covenant of gypsophila,
Dew sprinkled delicately scented.
Daphnis bit his lips to Myrrha’s,
That like ripe cherries were!
He sang his song of love,
Blessed by the Unknown God and his beautiful love!


SIXTH CHAPTER

On his bed load was approached with the tyrant,
Demokrates could bring himself
Surrounded by violet scented cushions,
In silk and velvet and brocade,
Magnificent, ceremonial and glorious,
Whose procession was clouded with incense
And fragrance of essential oil of lavender,
To be bewitched by the breath of the wind,
The prime-time in the sweet-smelling flowers kisses awake.

To be married with the latest virgin,
The pretty country girl Myrrha,
Was his desire, the desire of the tyrant.
Her to love, to hug and kiss,
To become intoxicated at the breasts of the young woman
And her being near and to cultivate the gnosis of Cupid...

His support bed was decorated beautifully
By the daughters of Athens, the Muses,
Naiads, nymphs, graces,
Decorated with marble from Paros,
Cypresses from Cyprus
And Ebony from the black Ethiopia,
Lapislazuli from Egypt's Nile,
Gold of Ophir, Shoham of Eden,
Covered in tiger skins from Thrace’s forests
And bear pelts of Macedonia
And Panter skins of the Dionysian Nyssa.

On the brown curly head
About the careworn brow furrowed
Wore the tyrant a wedding crown,
That Pyrrha his mother paid to the tyrant.
(Pyrrha his mother?
Myrrha, because it rhymes with Pyrrha,
Demokrates was so in love with the beautiful shepherdess?)
All his seven hundred nymphs -
All were afraid of his mother,
The ratio in adulterous lust,
Who Demokrates once fathered with her Adonis;
Only Myrrha was not afraid of her.

When Myrrha “mother” thought she was thinking
About the fair favorite Daphnis
To bring him into the house of her mother Dorothee.
When Daphnis in the house of Myrrha’s mother would come,
Seeding to pasture their childhood, he can be her brother.

But Demokrates let the litter of the tyrant
Bow before the silent shepherdess
And raised by his court poet sealed flattery
And the hymn to the beauty of Myrrha:

”Dear lady, your eyes are like pools,
As the lake Cyane in Arcadia, blue and clear,
Your eyes are in white milk flood,
Floating blue fishes of the goddess of love,
Your eyes are stars that have sky-blue roses blooming,
Your eyes are like the scent of forget-me-not
Floats over the snow of Mount Olympos,
Your eyes are like the contemplative ode
That sings the swan on the border of the underworld,
Your eyes look friendly
Like two blue cupids, O Myrrha!

Your hair is like the golden thread of the wheat,
As the tide of the hair of midday sun,
Fair as my mother’s fairness,
Golden like the sandals of the Queen of Heaven,
Golden as the vocal chords of my favorite nightingale
In love with a Persian golden rose,
Your hair is like the veil of the most beautiful woman in Greece
In her virginity time, I mean Helen,
Who went down to Troy,
But your hair, o Myrrha, is more beautiful than Helen's veil.

Your teeth are as white as the fleece of Palestinian lambs,
White as ivory from the elephants of Kush,
White as the snow on the summit of the Titans, Ossa’s snow,
White like the milk of a female unicorn,
White as marble from Cararra,
Perfect as a pair of swans,
Moderately just like the limbs of a hero,
And they can bite
Like the teeth of a shepherd’s dog in the spring.

Your lips are gently curved
Sparkling waves of a rose-pink conch,
Are like flying flowers of bedewd rose petals,
Delicate flowers of the Mediterranean Sea at dawn,
Your lips are like delicious pomegranate wine,
Sweeter than wine cloves of Cyprus,
Your lips are red, you have to kiss, O Myrrha,
Let us tenderly and coo, coo, coo,
Let us be drunken from kissing!

If I tell you in the gentle language of the Indians,
I as your lover give love to you, Myrrha,
Then your cheeks are red as chastity of the astral virgin,
When the astral Orion chases after her,
Red like the delicate flower of ornamental poppy
And white as the milk of the poppy,
From which the dreams are spun,
And your cheeks are like unicorn’s blood and pigeon’s milk,
And as gentle as a kitten pasture.

Your neck is like the neck of a swan singing love,
Gracious of majesty and melancholy softness,
Your neck is like an ivory tower of King Theseus,
Clung to the two silver shields
Of the Magna Mater and her godly hero showing,
So the jewelry is on your neck, O Myrrha,
If also you sign your God,
You are bride of the Unknown God of love,
And his mother’s daughter, the Queen of Heaven, O Myrrha,
You see, Myrrha? Your neck makes me religious.

Your breasts in their youthful freshness
Are two golden apples from the Garden of the Hesperides,
Closely guarded, O pure virgin,
Two full moons, two magnolia blossoms,
Virginal purity fragrant,
Empire apples of the royal virgin mother.
You are the Immaculate
In my sinful harem.” Then was silent Demokrates,
Myrrha blushed and her breath flews.


SEVENTH CHAPTER

The gentle, beautiful, laughing shepherd spoke to his shepherdess,
The dove to his she-dove
Words of cooinmg, she implored:
”Myrrha, forsake the magnificent Palace of Athens
And come up to our Arcadia!
Beautiful it is in Arcadia, where we are together.

Myrrha, thief of my heart!
What did you get for the night
With looks like flying stars
To test me and consuming my heart?
The owl to me was the nightingale,
Since you gave me a new heart.
You have written my name in the language of the Scythians,
You called to the Unknown in Achaean,
The star like white bonfire laughing down sweet
In our romantic night, as you went
With my heart of Daphnis in your tender hands.
In my chest tenderly patted henceforth the name Myrrha,
Myrrha, you sweetheart, you thief of my heart!

Your eyes were like diamond stars
In the wild romantic night of my heart
And set fire to a blazing sweet fire
All in loud flames, golden as honey,
Sparkling like glowing orange dew of the roses of the stars,
O beloved Myrrha!

My sister, daughter of heaven, sweetly singing maid,
You fired from large wind singer,
Dearest, lovely shepherdess, beautiful country girl,
Unique Rose, confidant,
You are created with the beautiful name, O Myrrha,
This, like my words, dear heart, were your words:
My dear! you say that I should trust you,
You make me long missed and hug
And I sing to the key of dark melancholy
Your golden lyre of love, shepherdess,
My daughter of song, Muse from Helicon,
As you rest between the sheep with the harp in your arms,
Myrrha, and when the great wind breathes on your harp,
Do you sing odes and hymns inspired
By the beautiful god of love.

You're a garden lover,
In the arcades may not unconsecrated convert
A sacred grove, beloved,
In its labyrinthine corridors
Just a favorite of God with the torch of love
May convert enraptured and softly dancing
On soft soles of golden sandals.
You’re a cypress grove of melancholy,
Where love is strong as death.
You’re a garden of violets where the air is sweet
As the breath of the large wind,
Mysteries of the spirit, our teacher.

You’re a rose garden, beloved,
Since you are the  thornless rose under the God of love,
As your beloved grazes with you.
You are a grove of cypros flowers,
Which you likest like me, you lovable.
You are like so many lilies,
In their goblets filled with dew,
Sweet smiling nymphs bathing naked.
You’re a tree scent from Ceylon,
An ointment from India,
A garden of sweet-smelling woods without a snake.”

Myrrha was changing her speech as the muses
To the beautiful shepherd, the beautiful soul of her heart:
”Come, my dear friend, in my garden
Here and pick the day of your youth!
Be like a bee to the sweet blossoms of my tree,
Total sweet songs
Be persistent and you be intoxicated at the flowers of wine,
The sweet nectar, but let the tree
His pious joyful evening peace.

You come as tenderly as the south wind
In my fragrant garden
And play with the aromatic scent
With my personality. Dear Daphnis, you shall live!
You shall live and be beautiful
Like a cypros flower in the garden of my soul,
Like a lotos on the still ponds of my soul,
Be like a dancing flower
On the wellspring of my heart,
Crown and jewelery of my interior.”

Daphnis replied: “Beauty, gentle, delicate,
Like a storm I have come,
The clouds are the dust of my steps,
And I came with authority and blessings to your door,
There to find gentle peace
And softly my rough hand
To create your milk-white hand
And tender cooing
And sweet sports of love to share with you,
O Myrrha, my love!”


EIGTH CHAPTER

In Athena’s brazen walls
Dreamed her dream the shepherdess,
There she lay in her bed trembling, twitching in a dream,
Drenched in milk of poppy meadows,
And dreamed of Daphnis,
As he came from the hills and meadows of Arcadia,
And how he came to a romantic summer night,
As between the carobs
Nymphs in white dresses danced
And bathed in the clear springs, naked,
That the silver moonlight reflected secretly.

She saw his hair, his fair hair,
That was wet with dew of the Arcadian summer
And the curly beard was damp
From the warm drops of the dew of the summer moon.
He with his brown fingers comb through her fair hair
And put the strains behind her ears.
A night drop he stroked
Of the fine fair brow,
As it was at the batting of a tear.

And in her interior, dreaming sweet dreams,
She looked at the beautiful gate of the marble of her chamber
And on the wooden door heard a knock,
Which invisible echo repeated a thousand times.

Myrrha but did not move on her soft bed
For her psyche says:
”Should I open up to him now
And give to his desire and willingness to be
The desire of his soul in love?
I would rather decorate me and want to be apprehensive tenderly
And chaste me demeanor
In timid shyness,
A girl afraid to tell him without words
My fear of bodily proximity,
For perhaps he advertises that fiery, sweet,
As the roses in the sunset glow
And bees sip nectar,
Sheer desire and longing?”

Then she heard in the twilight of her dozing inside
Again a beating and then a knocking,
A gentle shaking of the brown door:
Daphnis wanted in!
As her heart pounded in quivering breasts
Excitement and tender balance,
Her heart beat in her chest with longing and desire.
Daphnis was her desire,
To keep him in the white arms
And pressing on the flying heart,
That through gentle love’s rest stop off in the virgin’s breast.

So she got up, with trembling knees and flying hands,
Even in a dream full of weakness,
And groped his way through the cool darkness of her marble chamber
Full of loving heat to the gate
And opened the door, looked out, but - he was gone!
It was too late, she had hesitated too fearful,
Too fearful and long waits done too brittle.

She immediately ran out into the night
With sadness in her throat and anxiety in the chest
And longing in the raging blood,
And ran through the labyrinthine streets of Athens,
The dogs chasing her,
Past the white houses with blue windows
The sheer shimmering moonlight of summer's eve,
Until she came to the three city guards.
These tore the cloak from her shoulders
And slapped her silk nightgown and the beautiful woman back
Sore with hissing wicker.

Her body twitched in his sleep trembling with fear,
Because she ran and did not come from the spot.
Then she called for help to the Unknown God:
”Pneuma, come, O gentle breeze,
And bring him back to me with sweet Agape,
Holier than he whom the selfisch people called Cupid,
Puffs at me with God's beautiful Agape,
That my heart may be filled
With the good and the truth, full of beauty
From the hands of Beautiful Love,
That my immortal soul is in the agape of God!”

The next morning went to the daughters of the harem,
Atalante, Melitta, Perinna, her comrades,
The strange and weird shepherdess of Arcadia meadows.
Myrrha was full of love,
Because the stranger had heard her cry,
And she said to the daughters of Athens,
How her shepherd was the darling of her dreamy soul:

”Know, O ye daughters of Athens,
My beloved is like milk and blood,
Young and impetuous, pure and fiery in his soul,
He is virtuous love, red and white,
Red like love for God and his Myrrha.
His eyes jerking and cooing with amorous glances
And shimmer like the plumage of doves
And pure and loving
As the pigeons of your love goddess,
For his eyes look to God, who is Love,
Whose spirit in the heart of Daphnis is gentle as a dove.
His eyes are gray-blue pigeons,
That dip in the pond of milk on the blissful island,
So beautiful, so idyllic and so lovely!

His beard is perfumed
And smells like ginseng from China.
His breath smells up into the nose
Like fresh mint from the north of Cypros.
His fingernails are beautiful as Spanish pearls.
His whole body is like ivory,
Like the tower, where the Virgin sat,
Appeared as the wine,
Like golden rain and tongues of fire.
His veins full of the blood of life
Are blue as lapis lazuli from Sais in Egypt.
His whole body is a cedar of Arcadia, proud and glorious.
In his palate moves strangely beautiful
The genius embodiments glossolalia, singing Evoe!
He is beautiful, O daughters, beautiful.”


NINTH CHAPTER

To the beautiful shepherdess turned the raging tyrant,
Not raging anger against tyrants, but passion,
Hot as Hades, fiery as Phlegeton,
Irresistible as the black sea of Acheron
In the underworld, with its strong swirls
And his cruel waters.

He said: “You are always cheerful and friendly
As the Ionian Sea have been to me,
And now I see you clouded,
You are terrible as a Persian army with Tiger banners,
If they marche against Salamis. O day of the shores of Salamis,
If the army’s banner waft horrible and spears fly:
Your eyes are as death bullets!

You have overcome me, Myrrha,
Not with henna and Egyptian vermilion
Or lovely tresses,
Like all my other women,
But with your clear purity
And your virtue you have bewitched me,
For you are chaste as a vestal virgin of Rome,
Who live in virginity,
The fire of their Goddess to serve entirely!

Thousand women, says the people, are in my harem,
Black and brown from Ethiopia, from Ind,
Maenads of the wine god,
Prostitutes of the love goddess,
Daughters of the Great Mother,
But thou, O Myrrha, you alone are the beautiful,
Venerate of the Unknown God.
In addition, the other have henna hair,
Black or Greek,
But your hair is spun from the wool of the Golden Fleece.
Others are silly, to amuse me,
But you’re profound as a philosopher.
Others chatter as vain fools,
But you’re talking in the language of the poets to me.”

Melitta and her bathing girl
Atalante and her make-up maids
And Perinna with her lyre players
Came to Myra and praised her,
Demokrates had commissioned it so,
To lure the shepherdess and advertise the yard
And so to bewitch her, chirped the women of the harem:

”Turn in the dance of Lesbos,
In the virgin dance, girls in dance,
Sappho to accompany to the lyre,
Erinna, in teaching her girls!
Your beauty is a golden apple
From the tree of the hesperian paradise!
While you’re dancing and your veil drops,
O fairest among women,
We admire your step
In the golden sandals of the Queen of Heaven,
Full of peace and serenity!

Your waist is like a golden bracelet of Phidias,
He a statue has stolen away,
He wants to put his arm around your waist.
Your navel, O beautiful woman, is as the chalice of the Last Supper,
You are the favorite of all the immortals,
Or the cup that Socrates drank,
To enter into immortality,
Your lap is Diotima’s chalice
Filled with spiced wine,
The drink of the Elysian joy!

Your body is like wheat, golden, white
And its glory and maturity and beautiful fullness,
Your breasts are like silver pomegranates,
That on the moon grows at the tree of life!

You are an orchid from Ind's forests,
The dancers brought,
In your right hand was
And in your left hand the cup of trembling with joy of wine!
You are full of pomp and splendor and beauty,
One fine beautiful likeness of God!

Your eyes are sources,
They spray crystalline light
Of blue water of life,
You are full of grace as the Castalian spring,
This Muse’s sons sipping enthusiasm
To be inspired by the divine fire,
Because in your eyes, the mirror of your soul,
Lives a divine spirit and his love of fire!

Your head is glorious as Mount Olympus,
In its eternal snow stand the thrones of the celestials,
Who are obedient to the God of gods,
Whose spirit rests on your head.
Your hair is like pure linen,
Which the immortal souls
Wear on their islands of bliss.
In your wheat-fair hair want any poet
To lye and dreaming dense
From the celestial garden Elysium
And daughters of joy!”

Myrrha came to the window
And looked with longing and quivering heart
Out into the sunset
And thought of Arcadia, thought of Daphnis:
”Now you’re lying in the grass
And look the furry bumblebees
In the purple flowers to honey,
Resting in the arms of Mother Earth,
On your back, playing the warm evening breeze of heaven,
And you’re talking in Illyrian tongue
A hymn of praise to the God of gods!

Come with me to the vineyards,
Let us tread the Arcadian vines
At evening and sip of the cup
Of sweet bliss,
Your love is full of bliss!
And let us walk through the meadows
And talk with the lambs,
Let them talk of love,
Let us smack her delight!

Our love is fresh and alive as of May,
The merry month, the moon of honey, of flowers,
The moon of the willows, the green pastures,
The Moon of the Queen of Heaven, the lunar month,
When the fire of the Unknown God overflows from heaven!

Let’s give each other love apples of love plants,
That increase in the nights and in the shade
And stun sweet swoon,
But smelled like Elysium
And Hesperia’s or Ind’s forests!

Oh, you were my younger brother,
I could be with you and walk hand in hand with you
And publicly kiss you before all shepherds,
Sugar on your lips, oh my Daphnis!
My mother it would allow
That you would come into my room
And didst thy gentle shepherds arms
Around my waist and I will be chaste

And tenderly to you, my beloved!”


TENTH CHAPTER

And now they came to their old village in Arcadia,
Nicely built on the hillside, rich with colorful huts,
Surrounded by pine trees, lime trees in bloom,
And Daphnis said: “Remember, my dear Myrrha,
Once we sat under the flowering lime,
That heard many a lisping prayers of my tongue,
But also heard how I praised your beautiful name:
I always wanted to name my daughter Myrrha!
And how I blessed the gold fluff
Of the peach fuzz on your white arm!
Smiled not only the people
Over the golden enthusiast around the love tree
As my Myrrha smiled,
Smiled loving with her light blue eyes.”

Than said Myrrha:
”You’re like the little chain with the sticks,
Hanging around my neck in front of the heart,
For you are a token of love,
My heart is a sign of grace,
And how is the character of the Unknown God
On my wrist,
You are not close only to the secret of my heart
But also to my hands.

Our love is stronger than Thanatos
If he is pretty well painted,
Our love is irresistible
As the immortality of our soul
And as Elysium in heaven above,
It is inevitable as Lethe
Between the land of the dead and the land of the living,
Our love is hotter than the fire of Prometheus,
Hotter than the fires of the first Olympiad,
Our Love is the fire of God!

If the metrics of the poets,
The periods of rhapsodes,
The arts of the lyres,
The wisdom of Plato
And the skill of Phidias
Passed, then the fragment
Burns in the fire of love of our God!

I have won peace,
Because I walk now with my shepherds under the lime,
In front of the vineyards, only with you, O Daphnis,
And the tenderness of your soul.
Let us pray together
In the ancient cathedral of nature
To the Unknown God, the Creator
Of all the celestials, humans and creatures!

You may hear my voice,
My gentle whisper, my dark cooing,
My singing in Lydian key to the wedding?
Two are better than one, I sing.
Come, let us hasten like unicorns
To the henna bushes between the vineyards,
To slumber and dream
Dreams of eternal love!”