THE BOOK OF VENUS

BY TORSTEN SCHWANKE

DEDICATED TO THE BLESSED MEMORY OF ANNA KARINA

PART I

APHRODITE

CANTO I

Divine summer! South full of life!

With many poets I look up to the sun,
Golden apple in sapphire fields,
O let thyself be plucked, fruit of love's delight!

Madonna! see me awake from my dream

And devour the fruit of paradise!
Though I lay dreamless in Morpheus' night
And slumbered as dead on dark seas,

But in the morning all longs for the light

Of heaven and the drunkenness of earth!
Then Beauty emerges from the dark dampness
And gives pleasure to erotic gestures.

O walk, Madonna, O my star,

O walk before me into the sweet light,
To green gardens and blue seas,
Where the sea tide breaks on the rock.

The saint I adore, the limbs,

Who rest in Liège in consecrated ground!
Saint Evelyn! Bring again Christ's body,
That my flesh may become the flesh of resurrection!

My heart revives in France: O la France!

How I blossom in your sunshine,
How I bear fruit in the garden of Provence,
How I'll be drunk with red wine!

How troubadours of Provence melt

I will be alone like a nightingale,
I'll groan like the sea on a solid rock
And woo the stone with full gush!

The grave has become the birthplace of life,

From which flows the drunkenness of seas!
The red rose blossoms from its thorn,
The desire denied gives pleasure!

Because the sea breaks on the solid rock,

Therefore the ocean sprays up the spray,
And because I dwell in burning renunciation,
I am refreshed with a drunken vision of pleasure!

That summer, when I was about to die,

I longed for Aphrodite's bounty!
Consecrated by a death wish, the sea surged,
Rolled the sea up with burning roar!

The oceans of all the ends of the world

Could not quench the embers of longing!
Even you, the serpent's belt around your loins,
Did not calm the snake in the bushes!

I had to step on death's border -

And God only knows what I then saw...
But hush! I long for my dear youth
And sing you whom God entrusted to me.

First, I beseech of Christ's bride,

From my Virgin Mother, her blessing,
To whom, in a close cell, I entrust
The longing of my soul for all things.

I opened my mind to the Shepherd

In the Queen's sanctuary alone.
Love, in which the whole cosmos revolves,
Has sunk into my heart the light of grace.

Is Aphrodite's green light cool?

Is not the golden curly hair heavenly?
Is she a demon from the fire?
Let the beauty of God be revealed!

O God's extraordinary beauty!

So exceeding beautiful is thy creature
In heavenly-beautiful body and curly mane!
God! You are even more beautiful than your creature!

Congregation of Truth, let me ask,

If I can sing the heathen goddess.
I will venture before the guardian of faith,
That the man of God may instruct me.

Together we mocked Luther

And unbearable strictness of law.
Then together we praised God's Mother
And her statue of the strait.
We praised Our Lady Mary of the Sea,
Who sees all the longing of all souls.
Then he spoke to me of the divine Homer
And then of the holy Ovid.

Then he became serious and said mildly:

The eternal-feminine pulls you up!
Serve the Great Woman, the Great Sign,
Thus prove thyself a man of God,

Like a girl-friend to man is she near,

Yea, even like a heavenly mistress!
When you called her goddess,
I saw her smile within.

As for her born from the foam of the sea

Concerns the Greek goddess Aphrodite,
She is but a dream of the truth,
A hint of truth is the myth.

You consecrate your ass, your ox,

The passions all to the sea-star!
I tell thee how the Greek Orthodox
Sanctify themselves to the Mother of our Lord.

To this height lead your song,

That it may be sanctified to Saint Mary.
Life is short and art is long,
Faith is true, poetry is free!

So like enthusiastic poets

I call ye, chaste maidens from the spring!
The muses of sweet word sowed seed
And made the seer's soul bright within.

On Helicon's mountain, double peak,

In my slumber I rest in the green,
I see the chaste maidens' rocky seats
And their green laurel wreaths bloom.

Softly, softly they purr, the gracious ones,

The wind breathes into the strings of my lyre.
The muses read from the ancient scrolls
And sing before Venus' wedding feast.

Calliope gives me the long breath

And fill my song with her kisses,
To sing of the first chaos's broth,
To the throne mountain of Aphroditissa.

Maid Polyhymnia gives high tone

And sanctity of the old gods' hymns,
To praise Eros, Aphrodite's son,
To consecrate my goddess‘ chaste hymen.

Melpomene makes sighs melodious to me

And transforms into sound my tears,
For the sea of my blood is melancholy,
From which emerges the Venus of my veins.

Thalia gives the cheerfulness of heaven

And sings the light and sweet sun's delight.
In May that maiden smiles sweetly,
From the garment the fair breasts look.

Terpsichore causes the words to dance

And lets winged be the iambic foot,
She swings her hips in the glow of the veil,
Moves the pelvis to my delight.

Nor is Clio silent to me in the sunlight,

Reminds me of the day and the hour,
When in living history
I kissed Aphrodite's cheek.

Euterpe will shape my every verse

To the pearl and to the pearl wreath they string,
From the poem no word shall ever grow old,
The weak verses shall be forgiven.

Erato, O Erato, you above all,

Erato, O Erato, kiss me!
Erato, O Erato, my favour,
Erato, sing to me Aphroditissa!

And finally, thou who bearest her name,

Urania, thou connoisseur of the heavens,
Sing the one that moves all life force!
Muses, that I may be your servant!

CANTO II

The god whose name Greece did not know

Created primordial dark chaos-nothing,
The primordial matter, the unconscious,
Primordial mother of all radiant light.

God gave, that out of the sea of chaos would come

A chosen star with broad breasts,
The primordial mother of the living, the earth,
Bordered by arching seashores.

There came forth from the spiritual substance

Of the Creator all the high gods,
In the Olympos they danced the dance
With goddesses in the godly chorus.

But the most beautiful of all the gods was

God Eros, who switches in the hearts of the gods.
More powerful than Ares' sword and the Cronid's aar
Stronger is Eros' arrow, which never grows old!

God Eros is the most powerful conqueror

Of the mind of all men, of all gods,
He is the bringer of suffering and joy,
The destroyer of the world and the saviour of nations!

Primordial Chaos brought Mother Night

With her blue mantle of stars,
The young god of day in his splendour,
That he might walk in the azure ether.

Astraea's image shone in the firmament,

Orion always chased the Pleiades,
Saturn in Scorpio was so sadly mild,
Aurora dived out of the bath.

The mountains were all born,

Olympus and Athos so proudly rise
And stand above in the gates of the clouds,
Which tremble at their roots.

Night gave birth from her motherly womb,

Fertilised by the high heavens,
The earth-embracing Oceanos,
The Mediterranean and islands beautifully lit.

Hyperion shone in the firmament

In the golden and purple shimmering fabric,
And softly in the soft throne
Dreaming with gentle sense the fair Phoebe.

Creature of the first time was the Titaness

Of sacred memory, Mnemosyne,
Sunk in meditation, mourning swan,
Glorifying the sacrifice of atonement.

Mother Earth's son was a rebel,

Titane Cronos was the god of time,
He blasphemed the father with barking,
The god of heaven and eternity.

Cyclops, but you and evil giants,

You are but a dull guest on earth,
Not at home in the bright paradises
And hated by the god of high heaven!

You are the clay of the earth,

And your hearts are as hard as stone,
Are never loving and never mild,
Scattered dust teeming with association!

Crammed into rocks, made of black mud,

Primordial chaos breeds ferment in the mud,
You are the scum's seed, the wicked tribe,
All given up to hateful desire.

Cyclops you, the eye in the forehead,

But before the forehead nailed another wood,
Your fate's thread is tangled,
One thread is constant: your pride!

You are the heroes of manly thoughts,

With which you count the grains of dust.
You drill your spears into the earth's flanks,
Mother Earth is not ensouled to you.

You think yourselves radiant and understanding

And yet you are locked in darkness.
You foreheads eternally become a lot miserable,
You celestials fade into the Hades!

Woe to you, O earth, that you have rebelled,

O ancient mother of all living,
That thou didst destroy thy muddy sons
And broke in two the bitterly quivering.

Woe unto thee, O earth, that thou hast born hatred,

To despise the primordial beginning of the spheres,
Woe unto thee, O earth, that thou hast chosen hatred,
To despise the pure space of light.

You, earth, have used your mother's rights

And refused the duty of a husband.
The animals' mother, you chose the bad,
As wife, you hated the light of marriage.

The old Gaea with the broad breasts

Gave her son, the young god of time,
The sickle in her hand. Titans should
Emasculate high God's eternity!

The god of heaven was the great procreator,

The beings of all worlds his seeds.
O Time, refuse his creator's strength,
Let eternity lame thou circumcised!
Cyclopes shall reign, pure brow,
Pure Time shall reign with understanding,
The sickle around heaven's seed shall whirr,
The genitals shall fall from heaven's land!

O sign of circumcision, sore mark,

Who dares to turn up his nose at thee?
O sacrament of procreation, O pure eel,
From thy blood sweet nymphs spring!

Thou who dripp'st from heaven, hot seed,

Since all serpents bite their tails,
Let us not be lame in our loins' strength,
For the glen receives thee with sighing.

You sweet nymphs, blond and black and brown,

Your bodies wrapped in your hair,
You are the daughters of the seed, naked women,
That the poet may run through your curls!

But you are as hard as a rock, like a wall,

And your breasts are like a battlement.
Rather the seed sank into the waves of the sea
And mingled his love in the flood of the sea.

O golden seed of the kingdom of heaven,

The hot streams of blessing are from God,
The sea tide opens, a dark soft
Primal grave for your godly flames!

O flames of fire golden-gossamer seed,

You sank into the cool chaste tide!
And embers and waters came in union,
And mother sea took up God's embers!

Then you emerged, O Aphrodite,

You golden drunkenness in the white summer!
In green the sea tide glowed under the sky!
The drunken day of love, to me it comes!

The billows fell like a waterfall

And your curls like a cataract,
Thou didst walk on the white waves,
Like Eve of Arcadia so naked!

I see you in my morning dream,

Thy mouth like fruit, an eagle thy nose,
You slumber in the shell above the foam,
The foam is like a dream-born bubble.

From Aphros you came. The foam-born

Beautiful slender foot steps on the white beach,
Roses bloom fragrantly in the thorns,
Cypresses shade the sunny land.

The sparrow sings praises with fervour,

The doves lift their breasts, jerk.
The goddess in the garden of Cyprus penetrated,
To the snow-covered mountain of the gods.

How glowing are thy beautifully arched cheeks!

How softly before thy gaze do the bitches grow!
How the coiled snakes stretch!
Come, Beloved, who loves pleasure and sex!

CANTO III

Like a brown stag in its rut,

So I roar, pining for the water jelly!
The avarice of life begets the charm of art,
From the sigh flows the torrent of speech!

In the winter of this year all my thirst

Goes to Greece in summer's heat!
I think of the prince's love song
Of love that he sang to the Highest Good!

The people sang in the cult of Astarte,

The women walked in the gardens of Tammus,
The sage sang the songs as he waited
Of the fairest: hips slender as willow whorls.

I will celebrate thee in song, thee, O hour,

That separates our spring from summer!
O praise of the rose-red wound of the heart,
Because only the poet knows love like this!

I languish as in Hades Tantalus,

The crimson grenade before my eyes,
The divine pleasure withdraws from me,
From which I wanted to suck life's delight!

I burn in the seven purifications,

I burn in the seventh of the circles,
Of fire I speak with tongues of fire,
Desire the golden fruit of life for food!

Before my eyes I see an old man,

Who painted Our Lady in gold,
In a radiant circle of glory,
That shines around her head's veil.

I see him standing in front of the loveliest model,

She lies on the sofa,
She cools the fire in her womb's spring,
That solution saves her from Venus' fire!

I see a young brush paint

In glow the almond-shaped oval,
The air stole her purple mantle,
There she stood naked (pale with slender consumption).

I see the painter after repentance paint

In glow the almond-shaped oval,
In the pink veil golden rays of glory,
In the womb the pomegranate‘s red.

I hear the muse of Italy sing

Of an island of sweet sensuality,
I see the Tajo Muse bring nymphs
To the green isle of bliss.

Then I hear Protestants strive

Of the golden sceptre in the crystal sphere
To sing; but without the glow of love
Are cold and stony the crystal seas.

So now I sing to Vulcan, the husband of Venus,

First bitterly to pour out scorn.
Rough-legged he, with bearded blue shadow,
Dusty with dust, and not fit to enjoy.

Boring kisses here and kisses there,

As spouses give, on the cheek.
A blind smith who did not see the desire,
In Venus' womb the Kundalini serpent!

Back to your forge, paralized,

Your smoke is not compatible with Venus' scent!
Crouch in ashes, thou grey stinker,
Pestilence thy chamber, thy tomb!

But Venus truly was like a volcano,

She was like a hot spring of water,
The golden apples, her bosom's swan,
Was like rock, like hot balls of flame!

She was as rich in glowing as Eden's Eve,

When she poured out in her glowing,
From her bosom flowed golden lava,
And plunged, steaming, into the flood!

With vapour it plunged in and hissing,

Columns of smoke rose to the sky,
She bathed to refresh herself in the bath,
That she might baptise the sensuality of the soul!

In a vision I saw Aphrodite,

As she lowered herself into a rocky pool,
As her troubled soul glowed,
As if the arrows of Eros were in her.

Ye saints, ye threw yourselves into the snow,

That purity might cool your passions,
But Venus threw herself into the green lake,
To quench the embers in the water's puddle.

A light foam washed around her limbs,

Her two breasts and her wet loins,
She dipped down her long curls
And played in the lap with her hands.

She thought of the most beautiful god's love,

While fluttering Erotes teased her.
There swam in the water a dead spider,
To frighten the divine Cythere!

Then with a sharp shrill cry

The beautiful goddess out of the water sprung!
She walked refreshed and happy and free
And around her sprouted the colourful flowers.

Rightly the old wisdom teachers say,

That dead flies spoil good oil:
Let, spiders, you who the fairest goddess make lament,
Let your disgusting species die!

She wrapped herself in her white silk,

Her golden girdle about her breast drawn,
She bound the sweetness of her summer's woe
And tamed the two waves of her bosom.

Cythere, how disappointed I am in you,

Go not forth with a laced bosom,
Let thy splendour shine, and show thy ornament.
Who binds in the trousers the Mediterranean?

She tied up her auburn locks

And plaited her round braid,
But one strang falls loose; my breath catches.
My breath catches, my head grows hot!

She lay down in the green grass,

The iris blossomed with bashful shame,
I saw Venus sitting on the meadow,
I saw how Ares came armed to the hilt.
Mars, lay down your weapons in the grass,
Put thy armour from men's limbs,
The peace of golden times sat before thee
And Eros looked from the breasts.

And Ares laid aside the hard steel

Except for the white cloth around his loins.
O Muse of Florence, in the hero times,
Thy painter leads the brush in his hands.

The chastity's veil over that scene,

When war's violence surrendered to love!
I envy him! My hot vein throbs!
Forget my quarrel in love's grave!

And when the divines were mated with each other

And Venus dried her lap with grass,
Ares lay down, weary,
A crowd of Erotes sat around him.

Ye, Eros' band, played with Ares' weapons,

O bear them away for all times!
Ye who held the lance on the shaft,
The joy of sweet love be its end.

But to the divine common shame,

Lay in the perfume of the green bed,
God Phoebus from the high ether came,
A golden net around the lovers twined.

O always to be so caught with her,

Who even caught me in her net,
To coo in the nest of tender adornment,
To know knowledge like serpents!

The adulterers lay lust-devouring

Caught in the net of Apollo.
Vulcan came and the host of gods mocked,
Olympian laughter resounded.

CANTO IV

O my soul, shake off the trembling

Before a hard God's judgement,
Be as gentle as a dove and as wise as serpents
And immerse yourself in the mild light of wisdom!

Worship in spirit and truth,

Be true and sing your dream,
Only a dream at first, but one day the light clarity,
When soul emerges from shadowy space.
All the dreaming, all the wishing of my soul,
All the tears in the valley of shadows,
Is my soul's insatiable longing
For the tree of life and the fruit of paradise!

Let the whole cosmos serve as a church

And also on the ledge the naked woman of soapstone,
I reach up to her lip-cherry
And higher, to the cosmos' wreath and cornerstone!

Who saw visions of the blooming

And flowery life full of abundance?
It shall not resemble crystal and marble to me,
Wine and honeyed germs shall satisfy my soul.

I want to smell the sweet fragrance of myrrh,

Which perfumes the bosom of dear wisdom.
God grant me the song of the Greeks,
For all deep desire wants deep eternity!

Encouraged thus and fresh strength in the bosom,

I remember the dream of a kiss:
From a long line the muses walk,
My beloved, the muse, is loosed from me.

Yes, walk on, dear women

And friends you with your strings.
Let me once more behold the image of the dream
And feel again that deep delight.

The towers stood crystal jagged

And paths swung in deep south,
In black dress the woman, her arms naked,
Her arms wrapped around my body.

Silently the muse rested gently on the poet

And throbbing heart and heart were united.
I curled into the hair that blew,
I was tantalised by blissful feelings!

Then she handed me her red mouth

Like purple pomegranate fruit,
Our tongues entwined in love,
My senses fled in sweet flight.

Then the woman of Paradise told me,

Sent by the father of the gods Jovis Xenius:
Sing thou the blisses of Anchises
And grape-red mouth of white Venus!

Anchises tended the herds of cattle

Of the father, the Dardan tribal shepherd.
The rosy vaults in the morning
Drunk with birds, which whirred in song.

How beautifully the forest of Ida rested in darkness,

When lightly Aurore approached
In the golden clouds. There mooed
The cow, which ruthlessly felt Eros approaching.

Zeus was seen stretching on a cloud

And stretching full of fervour over the land.
He worked in Anchises' soul longing
For Aphrodite, full of ardour he burned.

Anchises burned in the fire of lust

And blazed in the fire of desire:
Mighty goddess, great and monstrous,
I love thee beyond all understanding!

Zeus was seen stretching on a cloud

And stretching full of fervour over the land:
He made Cytheres' soul yearn
For that man, full of ardour she burned.

O mortal, O that I were mortal,

I would die in your arms!
I am the flame from the Mediterranean Sea
And thou my earthly ruin!

The laughter-loving Cythere came,

Inspired to love all the world,
On her fair-arched cheeks humility.
She loosed her golden charm-belt.

He sighed: O sweet queen of sweetest smile!

And bit her smiling lips raw.
Into her he surrendered all his salvation
And gave the strength to the pink shell mouth.

Yes, in the dark flowering shrubbery

A shell hung red with a pink pearl,
A pearly gate to the kingdom of love!
He consecrated his sighing seed‘s pearls.

And her womb's fruit so blessed,

The golden apple on the myrrh-bush,
Aeneas was, like Homer's heroes,
By the divine Homer, too, sung.

And Aphrodite, who loved the smile,

Cythere, who loved free laughter,
She spoke that Anchises should not grieve,
To make him the nymph's son.

Zeus would be angry, the Almighty,

Hadst thou been with the goddess of love
And had deflowered the glorious one
With thy mortal sex's rain.

And Aphrodite flushed her cheeks

With fresh water that came from Ida,
In the white snow there are red roses
And on her face perfumes of humility.

Bashful as a nymph chaste and brittle,

Who is quite ashamed of her sensuality,
She climbed to Olympus and left the wasteland,
To which, for love's sake, she's willing.

Anchises his godlike lust,

From whose memory he always shuddered,
He kept her locked in his bosom,
Till once, over wine, he spilled it.

Of all suffering, all bitter evil

And all hopeless striving,
The blood of Dionysus can redeem us
In the sacrament of the consecrated vine!

From all gloomy brooding thoughts

Wine with Cyprian spices will deliver us,
Till we drink too much and stagger
And stumble foolishly, fall like the distraught.

When he was a spitting child in the gelt

He confided secrets to a fool,
That was Anchises' bitter fall from grace,
Dame Folly put him on her cart.

I myself, I Anchises, truly I,

I lay with the great goddess,
When she was almost a little dissolute,
That my manly powers might stir.

Zeus heard it in his weather-sphere,

But Zeus hated all blasphemy,
Defender was he of the goddess‘ honour,
Which he gave to the sweet She.

That no corrupt mortal should blaspheme

The mother of all true love's delight,
Olympian gods' most gracious sister,
More radiant than even the golden sun!
I will strike him from my thunderbolt seat,
Smite him with my hard thunderbolt,
Burn him with my blue lightning,
Banish him to the Acheron's wail!

The beautiful mother of all love‘s pains,

The fairest mother of all love's pains,
She stepped with her rosy heart
Before father Jovis for Anchises.

Mortals are all but fools,

Spare the life of a drunken boaster,
For I have chosen him to love
And given myself as a bride to man.

CANTO V

Woe is me, I must be my own cupbearer,

In sole union alone a reveler,
But I also enjoy the sweet wine
With red pearls from the Roman cup.

Where are you gone, good Ganymede,

Have all Jovis' eagles carried you off?
Where is an echo to my speech,
A wise man where, that can feel my spirit?

You fools and you fundamentalists,

You have always made my sweet wine sour,
Because your blasphemies casually pissed
Into my cup of deep-tasted sorrow!

So I sit alone in the light of Phoebe

And toast with my brother Shadow
And long for the youthful Hebe
And would like to marry with eternal youth.

The blessed Hebe entertains above,

In her cup swims the little Imp:
Cupid! His power everyone must praise,
Even Cypris Aphrodite of Olympus!

Alkäos sings in a beautiful ode,

Which has come down to us only as a fragment,
That among the Olympians it was also the fashion
That Mercurius was known as cupbearer.

We holy poets of our Christ

Surrender to the true power of wisdom
And know also Hermes Trismegistos
To praise and secret science.
Yes, Hermes came with his staff of speech
And taught us secret wisdom already,
That there was a sacred Arcadia,
From which the Scorpion drove us.

Platonic age of the scorpion,

The sting he struck in the nymph's flank,
But by the power of the son of the gods
He is relegated to a preordained barrier.

And under the zodiacal image of the Dioscuri

The holy Sophia sought wise men;
(Influence of the star on lower natures,
The spirit's freedom in the circles of the gods.)

Hermes also speaks darkly as an oracle,

We all must pass through Anubis' mouth,
But Isis leads us without blemish
Like golden suns upwards whole and round.

Mercurius also instructs the mystics

Of Samothrace in the middle of the sea,
Where mystagogues atoned for their sins
And celebrated the vine and the ear.

And Hermes came to the beautiful Aphrodite,

Who sat on a rock by the sea.
In his hand the pomegranate glowed,
Cythere sucked it and ate it, smacking.

So young in love the two gods whispered,

Shamed Aphrodite glowed chastely.
Then Hermes handed from the sea shells
The sea-salt-salted mussel flesh.

Vine leaves he handed her rolled up,

Filled with delicacies.
She shoved the roll into her mouth so hold,
Which almost satisfied Hermes' craving.

Then he mixed rhinoceros powder of Africa,

He added to the Roman cup of red wine.
Her cheeks glowed as she sat there,
And he with her, as if they were one.

Then Hermes laid on the rocky table,

Salted with the white salt of the Mediterranean,
A fresh fish for love's supper,
Enjoyed Aphrodite's tongue-snapping.

He handed an aphrodisiac
To joyful Aphrodite, one after another,
As if it were ambrosia from Elysium;
White Venus glowed a shameful crimson.

Mercurius, his element the air,

Commanded the sweet south wind to whisper softly,
He carried the scent of blue flowers
Into Aphrodite's brown curls.

He carried the scent of red roses,

Enriched with golden sunlight,
In the infatuation they heart and caress,
As if a mortal incense to the goddess.

In rosemary and in lavender

The dialectician of Venus' body,
As the wooing air he moved
A little lustfully around the chaste woman.

Even a mare has received from the wind,

A cow has received from the wind.
Mercurius blew into the curling snakes
And robbed Aphrodite of her rest.

She reared up like the wild waves of the sea

And flowed up like the tides of the sea,
She bent the triumphant gate,
Through which Hermes walked in glory.

There he gave himself with all contradictions

And whole with his double natures.
She was like marble of Carrara's fractures
And beautiful as Helen of the Dioscuri.

And she in whom the universe was bound,

Because all in love has its nature,
Unbound, and her fruit was marvellous,
As we read in our ancient poets.

Hermaphroditus was the name of the hermaphrodite,

Named after his father and mother,
As a girl he resembled a young broom,
When young, she had almost a mind.

From his mother he had the beauty,

From her father she had cheerfulness,
When he was young, he made the most wonderful sounds,
Her earlobes opened as a mild maiden.

His soul's softness was virginal and gentle,

As if he walked on velvet cat's paws.
As a girl she was the daughter of beautiful wisdom,
How wise not the brooding bald ones.

Hermaphroditus' soul was like water,

Hermaphroditus' fate was like wind.
Her spirit a desert storm, her womb a wet one,
His heart like many roses.

The clear eyes! long lashes!

The soft lips! long snakes of curls!
The hair's fishing nets of large meshes
Veiled the down-covered cheeks!

Not girl and not boy: a poet!

Hermaphroditic is the poet's way!
Devoted to the dream of all beauty
A bridal breeze of spirit through his beard!

Ye true poets, do not let yourselves be blasphemed!

How feminine you surrender yourselves to the dream,
Ye gentle ones, more sisterly than the sisters,
Rise your beauty from the foam of dreams!

Be core men, ye poets: masculine

In spirit you shape the form,
In shaping power like the father-god,
You find support on the staff of speech.

Mother Earth offers herself to you

And up to the sky the sunshine calls.
In the mild heart of the moon dwells a man
Alone with his shadow and the wine.

Truly the poet is like the moon,

The sun is reflected in his mirror
That he rewards the earth with the glow
And his mild dew's balmy seal.

The muse, thy love, is the sun,

Who steps lividly from the firmament of heaven,
She is all heaven's golden delight,
And if you love her, she is the light of the world!

CANTO VI

I see you, vine-drenched vineyards,

The crooked green pines mighty crowned,
Squirrels wrap themselves around trunk walls,
From pine cones the brown honey drips.

I see the surge of wheat seas,

The tide rolls up to the sky's edge,
With golden hairs long slender spikes
Erect themselves in the gold of their bodies.

With full udders brown cattle moo,

The warm milk drips from their plump udders.
The pink pigs rest in the pens,
Where Jews and Muslims fail.

But the heathens march in processions

Through mountain-rimmed flowered valleys,
Where naked nymphs dwell in the rivers,
Clothed only in sunshine.

Of milk the limbs, honey-gold the body,

You'd like to share them like warm bread,
Who wouldn't want to burrow into a soft woman,
To heal wounded androgyny?

We want to be at the bosom of nature

And nestled in the bosom of nature
To suck the hot breath of life,
That saves us from our soul's death!

In drunkenness celebrate the fullness of life,

As if there were no sighing of all creatures,
And look in sunshine's veils
Into the eternal sanctified nature!

As if a god offered her to our delight,

Enriched with fruits of Arcadia,
No more groaning, no more croaking, no more waste,
The fullness of wheat stored forever!

There let us lie by sweet bushes

Winged like geniuses of the spirit
And mingle our breath with the scents,
Where red-blossomed soft waves are waving.

On every tree the fruit of joy dangles,

How sucking their juices drunk with delight,
The host of animated stars dangles above
And in us glow like stars sparks of the soul.

As if I already kissed the mouth of delight,

To sleep in blissful bliss,
To suck the bliss of the breasts
And die a love-death in pure languishing!

O let me know thy secret deep,

Sealed and locked blissful garden!
Let me burn for thy pomegranate,
To expect higher bliss!
Then came Dionysus, the lord of the landscape,
Who first gave all green its golden glow,
Alone came Bacchus, without his crew
And without the maenads, with the staff.

O Thyrsus' staff, with thy pine cone,

With ivy wildly entwined is thy shaft!
Lyaeus, let us walk in thy footsteps,
Go thou before all in thy strength!

Man's strength art thou in form,

The pine shaft thy hands clasp,
Thou art the power of drunken might,
Born from the loins of the Most High!

A girlish youth at the same time,

The beautiful curls flowing down,
The bright eyes gentle, the lips soft,
Thou hast found favour with bacchants.

Touch us with your magic wand,

That our wood may begin to sprout!
If thy drunkenness gave us life,
Ambrosia around our full lips runs!

In thy veins flows the purple wine,

Let us eat the flesh of god!
A drop of blood in thy veins
And flesh of thy flesh, is what I desire!

Now behold her standing in the garden,

She did not stand but danced a dance,
The rabbits hopped in the green land,
The shimmering snake bit its tail.

She ran her hand through her reddish-brown curls,

Tangled the curly hair with her hand,
The curls fell to the bells of flowers,
Because she was the mistress of all flowers.

She coiled the white body like a snake,

When a Persian magician conjured him beautiful.
The purple shame, the beautiful glow of the cheek,
The drunken Dionysus beguiled.

Then Dionysus was greatly afraid,

For he saw Eros sharpen his arrows
And plunge into the glow of the cheek. And who
Ever resist these breasts' points?

As if the chaste pure morning dew

Veils chaste magnolia blossoms,
A veil flowed around the beautiful woman,
Revealing even more of Aphrodite.

But Eros pushed the veil from her shoulder,

Then Venus' ivory was revealed.
The Evian, the Evian, in grace he
Entered to the beautiful Aphrodite!

Now help me, O holy Erato,

To sing the praises of the golden key,
Of the golden key of Plato's dungeon,
Ready to penetrate the golden keyhole.

The Jews in the Old Testament,

They spoke of the sign of circumcision,
In David's life it brought the turning point
To sin and to marriage preparation.

Saint Paul spoke of the weakest of all members

In the body of Christ, that it might be covered.
But let every member of the body sing songs
To the praise that God raises up the flesh!

The Gnostics and the Manichaeans too

Despised the members of the human body
And even the ancient saints and seers
Shed their tears on the instrument of marriage.

Even today priests teach in vaults,

The member is only for the purpose of procreation,
But all that is done within the walls
That is kept secret.

But a poet of my church wrote

That phallus and vulva are sacraments!
In all love, Love loves us,
That bride and bridegroom may give each other joy!

In this time of the Saturnalia

Of Rome and in the Cologne carnival,
With Ceres' cereals supplied
And Bacchus' blood in the marble temple hall,

I will praise man, his body

And every member of his body in its structure
And what a man likes in a woman
And what in man is pleasing to woman.

In a woman you find your end,

To awake again in her womb,
Yes, boldly I confess, let thyself be held in the hands
And let woman's soft lips laugh!

Therefore I'll set thee in a garden,

Dionysus' and Venus' son, Priap,
Where I'll baptise thee with the flowery nectar
And call thee consecrated wand of wonder.

Symphonies the nightingales sound to thee,

Erotica the turtledove girre.
Lift up thy head, see the breasts heave
Of the lovely one, on whom I go astray!

Enter thou through her rose-gate,

To woo me for a rendezvous!
She's a fruit of the sweetest variety
And I a flutterer, Priap, like thee!

CANTO VII

O Myrrha, Myrrha, blessed be thee,

Fragrant ointment thou, so rich in oil,
Thou hast shown the Syrian land
The anointing way to the soul of God!

O Myrrha, Myrrha, blessed be praised,

Not a grey theory, a green shrub,
A fragrant smile that flowers around thee
And thy limbs become sacrificial smoke.

O Myrrha, Myrrha, blessed life,

A fragrant bush thy womb,
From thy fibres of living tissue
Our young god Adon unwinds!

The little white bells ring flowery,

The young crocus exercises the priesthood,
Adonis shall mean all the spring,
Wrapped in red roses and red velvet.

His eyes glow like flames of fire,

His face illuminated like the sun,
His curls like waves of gold
Around his body, the delight of pious women!

The pious women tend their gardens

And consecrate pink tulips to their hero,
The maiden's hips, slender as willowy whips,
They call up blind Eros to the scene.

The Bible calls you the darling of women,

Dumuzzi or Tammuz the heathen call thee.
But a classical poet am I,
So I will feast on the goddess of Cyprus.

The goddess born from the "Aphros",

Who walked the colourful flowery way here.
I call you, O Pierides of Sappho!
I call to you, O genius of Shakespeare!

For Shakespeare sang the pining for the kiss,

He sang the goddess Aphrodite's pining
After her favourite oral pleasure
And the renunciation and divine languishing!

And Sappho sang the priestly cult

Of Cypris weeping for god Adonis,
She also called on Cypris for sweet mercy,
When a beloved heart seems sweet to her.

O golden Venus on the colourful throne,

Come in a vehicle drawn by the finches!
In my veins thy son rages much,
Thou may'st beckon favour of reciprocal love!

O soul, who sang praise to me,

Whom shall the sweet Peitho tempt thee? -
Cythere! I'm all consumed with Morpho,
Thou mayst stir her sweet soul!

O sing to me, Erato, sing the song

Of Anadyomene's soul's sorrow!
The tears dripped from her light eyelid
And her sighs fled into the distance.

Beloved being of divine form,

To thee alone belongs all longing!
In your divinely beautiful arms
You hold me and lovingly dance the dance!

O thou, O thou, to me lighter than the spring,

In your eyes I found all light,
O let me reverence thee with a chaste kiss,
With chaste kiss kiss your hand!

To you alone belong all my thanks,

That I may kiss thy hand,
O thy white hand, so slender,
That bound me with the ties of thy beauty.

I would one day kiss your wrist, too.

Kiss your pulse, kiss your upper arm!
How I glow for such kisses, think,
Perhaps the thought will warm thee?
I would thy shoulder's ivory,
O divine form, to kiss thee tenderly!
I would be the silk of thy toga!
I would so wound thee with bites!

I may see thy shoulder, but

I can not kiss your shoulder in adoration.
On my shoulder the yoke weighs heavy,
That I must always miss thy kisses!

O most beautiful being! wash thy cheeks

With pure water, that they bloom rosy,
Then my seven serpents of the soul
And I also feel my heart's phoenix glowing!

Be sure of my heartfelt thanks,

That I may kiss your cheek,
I never felt more royal
Than when I felt the curling snake.

What shall I say? See me pining hotly,

Passions burn unhealthy,
Thinking of the crimson pomp and splendour
Of thy eternally goddess-beautiful mouth!

O once by the bushes by the lake

I press my lip to thy mouth!
You shy as a maiden, chaste as snow,
I flame, red rose, heart-warming!

I am divine, yes, and immortal,

But wilt thou not hear my wooing?
For a hot kiss - woe is me! corruptible
Is my love's ardour! - then I must die!

O fair proud man, why didst thou remain hard,

Was thy gall black and thy liver green?
For whom hast thou saved thy lips?
Zeus himself sent the wild boar to thee!

Then the boar broke out of the dark forest,

With thundering steps he stomped to the youth,
He bore the mighty-massive form,
From his nostrils hot breath steamed.

From his black eyes lightning spurted,

From his hooves thunder roared.
Fear from thy fair pores sweat,
Adonis, for death comes to you in summer!

On the day of Saint John you will fall,

You will blaze in fiery red streams,
Your hot blood will spice the earth sweetly,
Your beautiful body will modernise in the earth!

Demigod of cycles and seasons,

With brown leaves thou wilt decay in autumn,
When vintners stride through the rows of vines
And pick their blood-red grapes.

Snow will fall from the clouds in your curls

And your limbs become ice crystals,
Then crocus and snowbells ring again
And songs of pious women cheerfully resound.

But now hit hard by the tusk,

You'll sink down wounded, and Beauty
Receives thee in her bosom, full of grief
Holds you in her embrace Anadyomene.

O Aphrodite, loosen thy veil

And let it fall on the naked youth.
Let tears drip, hot with fire of soul,
And, moved with pain, let your bosom heave.

We all hear sighing groans

Escape from the mouth of the weeping,
We see melancholy there the fair one
Before the one who unites with death.

We see her curls dissolved,

The strings of pink pearls hang down,
A sea of tears Paphia redeems,
Tears from her stars streaming.

Now at last she may kiss his mouth,

No longer rosy, now pale,
Now she may kiss him, her heart sore,
And embrace, weeping, the pair of his feet.

O pain, O chaste mystery,

The tear has been transfigured into a pearl,
To the pearly gates of Elysium,
Thither Anadyomene looks up.

CANTO VIII

Now, Muse, give me the psaltery of Orpheus,

Let me proclaim ancient sayings of wisdom,
Let me praise the beautiful butterfly,
The maiden of all beauty: Psyché!
O Psyché, with eyes almond-melted,
O Psyché, with the eyes of almond kernels,
O Psyché, in the floods stands a rock
And above it shines the light of evening stars.

You tenth in the circle dance of the Muses,

Fourth in the circle of the Charites,
I'd rather have your heart in your bosom,
I would love to caress your heart in your bosom!

The poet praises with his drunken genius

Maid Psyché as the second Aphrodite.
That in Olympos' halls Venus heard,
She glowed with jealousy and wrath.

Then she called her son, the blind Eros,

Then she said to him with bitter mouth:
Make her fall in love, but not with a hero,
Let her fall in love with a dog!

Thou shalt execute my curses,

I will choke them out of the black gall:
Give thou the highly praised maiden, Psyché,
To a swineherd named George!

And Eros, on his mother's lap

Obedient to his great mother's curses,
Then he tore himself from his mother,
To corrupt the threatened Psyché.

And winging through the atmosphere

He hastened and parted many a cloud,
He came to a land of blue sea
And saw Psyché in the midst of the people.

For once Eros was allowed to see Psyché

In her light, sweet summer dress,
Blessed with charms among all women,
He fell hotly in love with that maiden.

He wrapped her in his warm wings,

As Zeus as swan with Leda once made,
The charms of Psyché Eros hotly penetrate,
He bore her wing-beating through the night.

He carried her away to his garden of joy,

To the palace of joy among the flowers,
To wait on her there in hot love
With his fiery heart's sacred flowers.

Only his name she was not allowed to know

And not behold his divine form.
And in the night he covered with kisses
The dear body of the most charming of women.

So they lived on in pure bliss,

Doves in love in building nests,
Two drunken lovers in the place of love
Until to them came visiting her sisters.

Stepsisters, Eros, I must also visit

And tell them of my high bliss,
They shall count my bliss,
Which I won through a hero of love.

Blind Eros bore the maiden there,

Where her father's wicked daughters lived,
God Eros did not see the high meaning,
That the just goddess Fortune wove.

Stepsisters mine, O my father's daughters,

You shall share my high delight,
If you would give yourselves to my lord.
He can heal your hearts, too.

For such love was bestowed upon me,

That already my heart seems whole and sound,
So I wish my sisters salvation too,
That such love may unite all the world!

But the sisters are of evil mind:

A monster wants to copulate with you at night,
A demon from Hades wants to love thee
And to woo the prince in the realm of shadows!

We are but stepsisters, yet we gave a counsel:

You must murder the beast tonight!
We are your heavenly guardians,
Stepsisters to thee by wisdom we have become.

And Psyché hastened again into the valley

In the shade of red-leaved blood-bushes,
She lay down in the dark hall,
Until her husband came to visit her.

A small lamp with the lamp oil

She kept hidden and a sharp knife,
As if the beautiful soul waited
For a monstrous man-eater.

And in the midnight came invisible

To his beautiful bride the god Eros,
Who was instructed in the delights
Which Helen once gave to Homer.
As Eros mated his beautiful bride
And she satisfied the blazing lust,
He sank into the downy pillow, sweetly weary,
His head bowed on her beautiful breasts.

But suddenly Eros woke up and saw,

That Psyché was about to murder her husband!
In a moment there was no more
God Eros, who, offended, resented Psyché.

But when Eros fled from the valley,

Melancholy descended on Psyché.
Much weeping she sought the son of Venus,
She dreamed mischief, woke and cried.

Now she left the wedding hall,

Emptied of high love's sacred dreams,
She left the deep valley
With its dew and its colourful flowers.

She went on pilgrimage alone through all the lands,

Through cities, villages, to distant seas,
Forsaken, stripped of all ties,
Only longing for Love's atmosphere.

So at last she came to the rose gate,

Which received her with a silent spell.
An apple tree blossomed in the place,
In the treetop dove tasted with dove.

Behind it lay the Paphia Palace,

Of jasper stone built as red as poppies.
And Psyché stepped in shy bewildered haste
To Urania's ancient throne.

Then Venus made her a maid

And she bore her burdens and heavy punishments.
And often Psyché complained of stress
And could hardly sleep eight hours quietly.

But the god Eros kept himself quietly hidden,

But his seven godly souls suffered,
So he came to Father Zeus,
To Father Zeus, to ask for Psyché.

And father Zeus from his cloud looked,

While it was day above the palace,
And said: I see how to Urania
The fair maiden Psyché serves as a maid.

I see you too, O blind winged one,

See thee still glowing for her in my heart.
So let Psyché be the gift of my grace
And good end to all her lamentations.

And Eros revealed himself in the fire

Of love before beautiful Psyché.
And what she saw was no monster
Nor a swineherd in the kitchen.

Glowing red wings embraced her

And lifted her up in the storm of love
And in the bliss of love's haste
Transfigured them under loud kisses of love!

And Psyché was granted immortality

Of the soul and the bliss of the senses.
And Cupid gave the god-gifted maiden,
Gave Psyché birthright in the realm of love.

CANTO IX

O beautiful laughter-loving Cythere,

The universe's raging rapture bind
With thy girdle above the Mediterranean
And extinguish the flames of our sin!

O goddess of all goddesses and gods,

Ruler by thy love's might!
From thy fires there is no saviour!
God grant that Charis may laugh at us in mercy!

Three goddesses, however, are known to us,

Virgins all three in the kingdom of heaven,
Unknown to gods and men,
None ever saw them bathe in the pool.

Diana, virgin she and huntress,

In flowing robes with long locks,
She walks through the dark woods,
Piously ringing her blue flower bells.

Her silver throne is built on the moon,

There she reigns as queen of the night,
From her throne a blessing doth descend,
When only the nightingale in the forest watches.

She looks so shy through the fan of her eyelashes,

And her eyebrows softly drawn.
On her hip hangs the colourful quiver
With pointed arrows for the taut bow.
And many nymphs flit on the prowl,
To see if they can find a grove for Artemis,
Before her the stag humbly bows,
Forgetting for a time the hind.

As chaste as the deer at dawn

The nymphs of Diana quietly flit,
They all shun every earthly marriage,
Virgins shall they roam in loneliness.

And one of the host of chaste nymphs

Was Metamelia of the Parthenion.
Who saw her wrinkle her slender nose,
When unchastely a son of the Muses sang to her?

A seer could do her good in virtue,

Who would sip the wine of wisdom,
To whom she revealed her green eyes
And chaste, slender rosebud lips.

To him she showed her dark blonde locks,

Which fell on the silken robe,
The pure white dress. The seer's breath
Breathed, her hand touched him.

She touched him with her nymph hands,

That he, beaten, is like to go blind,
Diana saw to perish in misery,
Because he said that Cynthia he kissed.

Athena was the other goddess, who

Not subject to the goddess Paphia,
Who did not cry out in love's sweet delight,
Whom no man's eyes could see naked.

She rose from the brow of Zeus the father

In full armour, proudly armed,
She taught Greeks to triumph over Persians,
She instructed Rome in the weaponry of Mars.

Athens erected the most beautiful columns

To Athena, the patroness of their city.
All barn owls were sacred to her,
They looked at night so blind.

Olive gardens were planted for Athena,

The fruit of the olive tree was consecrated to her.
The fools, who resisted wisdom,
Caused Athena many a misfortune.

She appeared in the body of N e s t o r

And taught Telemach
And also taught the German poet T o r s t e n
Wisdom's consolation for all the woe and misery.

Virgin, who never cried out for lust,

She was as pure as ice and as cool as snow,
She taught Plato at the Academy
The idea of the highest ideal.

Athena's servant and disciple

Was Retia, who dwelt in Athens.
Virgin and manly was all her mind,
She wanted to see herself as a disciple of Plato.

Therefore she disguised herself as a boy,

Not to whet the philosophers' appetites,
She wanted to sip high wisdom's gift,
The wise should not be stingy with wisdom.

She wanted to see driven out of the ideal state,

To see the vain sons of the Muses driven out,
Who know nothing but to sing straight
Only the most depraved hetaera-beauties.

She suffered from the nagging of Xanthippe,

She wanted only to live in seclusion,
Only to listen to teachings from consecrated lips
And watch Moires weave her fate.

She became angry, when praised Paphos

The Babylonian whore's forerunner.
She praised only one blessed: Diotima,
Who dreamed of Love's ladder to heaven.

But love not in blazing heat of lust,

In serene wisdom of mind's mine
Has praised Retia, in the breast
The Idea of the true, the good, the beautiful.

The third goddess, who is not submissive

To the magic belt of Paphia,
Eyes rare and pure did see,
That was the virgin goddess Hestia.

Apollo once in spring-sweet glow

Under a sweet lime tree
Wooed the immaculate estate
Of the virgin, who was beautiful like a dream.

She wanted to preserve her virginity

And honour her high virginity
And even if it, who wooed her for marriage,
Was the golden god of poets himself!
She laid her slender maiden hand
To the hair of Jove, the father of the gods,
Which she found far more golden than Apollo's,
And swore him a vow wonderful:

I who have rejected Apollo

And refused his wooing, I swear:
If I be granted the gift of the father of the gods,
I will keep my virginity for ever!

And to Zeus this vow was worth and dear,

It was the epitome of the highest morality,
So he gave her virginity and fire
As a perpetual sacrificial fire in the midst of the house.

Vestal virgins who consecrate themselves to Vesta,

There were few in Greece.
One must forgive the beautiful girls,
Eros was king everywhere.

But one of them consecrated herself to Hestia

With an oath before silent sacrificial flames,
To the poet of these verses who saw her,
In his eye silent tears of melancholy swam.

Ah, the blond down of these round arms!

Ah that golden hair like ears of wheat!
Now the colourful dream of a youth is over,
She closed herself for ever to desire!

She lives in eternal virginity,

What she calls the mystery of consecration,
Because she, who consecrates herself to Hestia,
Burns for the glory of the Father Jove alone.

But I also see the winged boy smiling,

His sting as sharp as the wasp's:
I see Melissa gently fanning the hair,
That fall like a lesbian's veil.

Here we are again with the power of love,

In which every minstrel yet glowed:
The fair goddess that laughs so lovely,
Enlightens the poets, Aphrodite!

CANTO X

In the splendid Arcadian realm

On the mountainside once lived a goatherd,
He was gentle and mild in his senses
And often rested in dreams by the myrtle.

He pastured the kids and the goats

And rich in the field stood green grasses.
The spring flowers wore colourful skirts
And butterflies were flower nectar readers.

The shepherd rejoiced in the sunshine,

That filled his heart deep with thanksgiving,
He often thought of love,
The painful, the unquenched love.

He loved very much the beautiful Ephyra,

Who, picking flowers, often walked the grove.
The gods heard it when he saw her,
How he suffered the most burning desire.

When he awoke from his dream in the morning,

Then her image floated beautifully before his mind,
She resembled the goddess of the sea foam
And like the Charites, she was mild and graceful.

He saw the flawless, smooth skin

Light shimmering through the thin summer dress,
With pearls the skin was dewy with sweat,
With pearls his summer's woe was born.

And when he saw goats jumping on goats

And kids suck on their mothers' udders,
All his hot dreams would come
In hot tears from his blue eyes.

She smiled constantly and graciously,

But she never listened to his wooing,
Who was as hard as Venus' marble image
And yet a very living bewitchment.

The shepherd turned to the dark night

And wept his tears before the moon,
He was overcome with the power of gloom
And the blood swam black in his veins.

He no longer pursued the business of the day

And mourned the night in constant fasting,
When awake he slept, when asleep he was awake,
His heart's beating hurriedly.

He grew thin to the point of a skeleton

And turned to chewing ivy,
He lay down on the hard rocky bed
And cried to the gods for peace of mind.
He died of boundless heartache!
Then came the black-winged Thanatos
And led him from his last slumber
In the womb consecrated to Urania.

There his body and soul were transformed

In a mystical metamorphosis,
The body of man was dispersed in his death,
The soul purified the spotless one.

Then she also lifted the dead body's limbs

And joined them into a white swan,
The soul returned to its feathers
And flew again on a free path of destiny.

The dark brother, his sensuality,

Was embellished to beautiful new senses,
The soul lived gladly in its plumage
And rejoiced in eternal beginning.

Then the white swan flew with broad wings

And left behind the dark green Lethe,
To penetrate the pure, clear ether,
When Venus' golden locks blew in the morning.

She shone pure and diamond sparkling

From her eyes, her sky-bright eyes.
In the golden light Cygnus swayed
On rose-red glowing sea waves.

He swam on the endless blue sea,

That came down from Venus' hair in a spray,
He sailed through the southern hemisphere
To the realm of the blessed, to the Canary Islands.

And Venus, who was also called Charis,

Because she was the grace above wild billows,
She crossed over to the land of the Greeks
In a chariot drawn by a pair of doves.

She hastened to the Arcadian realm,

To delight the fair Ephyra there,
The fair Ephyra, the graceful,
On the Canary Islands.

The doves stopped with the carriage,

They cooed, they cooed, they cooed, they cooed,
And Ephyra fell under their spell,
Till she and Venus went to the island.

And Ephyra stepped onto the black beach,

Made of volcanic rock and lava.
She found the whole land so full of flowers,
As Eden once found Adam and Eve.

Then she saw the Atlantic waves flooding

In a rocky bay on a black beach,
As if nymphs rode the mares of the sea,
Poseidon held the sceptre in his hand.

There was the statue of Aphrodite

Washed up from the sea to the Canaries.
O Ephyra! O white flower of foam!
O heavenly one with reddish-brown hair!

When Ephyra set up the image,

She went far into the interior of the island.
There it was a true world of joy,
Truly the island of bliss!

It was a flowery garden of joy,

Where lilac bushes smile purple,
As songbirds sang, many kinds,
There elongated banana leaves fanning.

The Graja-birds sang in the bushes,

There were canaries chattering cheerfully.
The island garden lured them stealthily
Into the interior, into the damp, on and on.

Then she came to the workshop of the Erotes,

Cupid's children were confectioners,
They practised on sweet sugar loaves,
They tasted delicious to sweet sugar mouths.

O sugar-bread, O honey-bread!
Cupid did the work with cocoa,
That turns into chocolate, wait a while,
Cocoa makes the sweet woman fall in love.

What poets sing of ambrosia,

That drips from Olympus' rock to the gods,
Here was to the beautiful Ephyra
Cocoa, the sweetness made her melt.

And so sweetened by brown sweetness,

The honeybee began to hum sweetly.
Then she sighed: That a heros should kiss me,
I wanted to be satisfied by sweet bliss!

Then Cygnus approached from the green grove,

His hot heart drunk with desire.
There he saw his beloved blissfully
And over sprang Cupid's spark of fire.
And in the shade of the banana leaves
And beneath the canaries' song
The two kissed like gods of love
And kissed hot and wet and long, very long!

They penetrated into the bosomy interior

And dipped into a pure pond.
They bathed in the most blissful union
And wave caressed so warm and soft.

And Ephyra emerged from the water

And stood on the shore's edge gloriously naked!
And Cygnus forgot all love's sorrow
And made a pact with his delight.

O Ephyra, O my life and delight,

Thou beautiful laughter-loving Cythere!
Thy face is the sun of my life,
O queen of the crystal sphere!

CANTO XI

The halfway point of his journey had been reached,

Tannhäuser entered a dark forest,
Like no forest on earth
And threatened him with a massive shape.

It was the forest of enmity and hatred

In pure nature. In its black dress
A dark wind passed through it, the wind of fun,
Which consecrated itself to bitter and wicked mockery.

What was sacred in heaven and on earth,

In the forest it was less than nothing.
Most haughty and arrogant gestures
Here was the denial of all sweet light.

But the owls had religion,

The dark seers of deepest blindness,
They saw God's hate in their hearts
And refused the humility of childhood.

The god of the forest was a black idol,

His essence was black horror,
The return of the same was his law,
Since there was nothing but time after time.

Who wanted to entrust themselves to this god?

But he was the only one that owls knew,
So they preached midnight and horror
And were the relatives of that idol.

Wood mice also scampered as spiritual giants

And gnawed at the roots of the foundations,
The black shadows blew their wisdom
Of that day when all the world will end.

The mice will be raptured first,

But the converted mice alone
For a thousand years they will be blessed
In earthly Jerusalem all wise.

How learned they were in matters of God,

Who invented for themselves the god of the forest,
They were well versed in legends,
Which were in the annual rings of the beech.

There they gnawed with their mouse-brains

And knew much to say of the she-wolf.
The god of the forest, sprung from their foreheads,
Was always far off, as things lay.

But the she-wolf is mistress of that forest,

Teacher of owls and mice,
Her drool drips into the moss like cold dead spit.
Spit with seven blasphemies in it.

Well then, she-wolf, you will not lure me,

Tannhäuser cries, and speakest thou of Luther,
Soundless are thy bells built of clay,
But I follow my God's Mother!

Father Goethe stepped out of a green bush,

Who laughs like a blessed one of heaven,
Then the beautiful dawn came up
And overcame the dark night of the forest.

And Goethe spoke with sweet syllables:

„Der Mütter Urbild, Königin der Frauen“
Calls in love's highly enlightened universe
The poet who wants nothing but to see you!

And that the poet may succeed in his work,

She, the goddess, gave him her image,
In love she wants to rejuvenate the poet,
But first you must pass through Venus' mountain.

And Goethe led the way on his walking stick,

Tannhäuser gladly followed,
For the gift of grace beckoned to him,
Then he gladly goes through the purifications.
They now came to a high gate,
With red rose thorns all around them,
There the choir of Amoretti
And sang to Aphrodite from the waves.

But water was not their element here,

Not nymphs in breathed silk swam.
The sea in which henceforth the poet burns,
Did Cupid kindle with flames!

And minstrels of all ages sang

In the seventh ring at the place of purification,
Flamed by the red serpents of flames
They gladly surrendered to purification.

Here was also the poet whom everyone knew,

He walked in Cupid's glow-hot garden,
And beside the noble poet Dante
In pure fire walked Petrarch.

And as it is written in Dante's writing,

Which Beatrice sent him from heaven:
They wept hotly here over Venus' poison
And praised at all times, who knew no man!

Tannhäuser dived into the sea of flames,

Like fire-red curls of loose length,
The passage through that fire was difficult for him,
He feared that it would scorch him.

The panther's sensuality was driven out,

Torches were tied to the tail of the fox,
Purity of soul was inscribed in him,
The passions were made whole and sound.

Desire purified and ordered

Flared up to the purest of the pure.
Tannhäuser in the midst of serpents of flames
The One praised, she who bore the One!

The gracious one beckoned him forth,

As purest of all virgins she appeared,
She led him from Venus' house
And sent him to the Holy See.

Tannhäuser immediately made a pilgrimage to Rome

And finally he came to the cathedral of St. Peter.
And above the wave-bright Tiber stream
The sun laughed brightly in the blue ether.

Orange trees blossomed in the spring,

Holy Good Friday was over,
Tannhäuser had an audience
With the holy pope on a beautiful May day.

Tannhäuser! the holy father spoke very softly,

After he had softly sung the Tedeum,
What once was praised in the theatre
Of the pagans, now lives with us in the museum.

Art lovers love to look at stones:

All honour to the Vatican Venus,
To us from the farthest reaches of time
In stone is also Apollo of Belvedere.

The greatest artists took them as a model

And shaped holy figures like this:
Look at David, a picture of lust,
Carved in stone by Michelangelo.

Look at Bernini's marble in goodness,

You'll find him in the pious cathedral of Siena,
Though to some it seems an Aphrodite,
In truth, it is Mary Magdalene!

To her devote thyself with homage,

As she worshipped Jesus of Nazareth,
She frees you from Aphrodite
And from the old goddess Venus.

Through her prayer transform your glow

In the fire of sensuality into God's love,
Surrender to her, and she will strive,
To purify the desire of thy impulses.

But in penance for idolatry

I will charge thee with a pilgrimage,
The toil of thy journey shall be merit
And on your merit God's blessing works.

I send thee to the brethren, to the Greeks,

I will not send thee to holy Mount Athos,
Thou shalt crawl upon thy bruised knees
Olympus, there pray full of pathos.

There, in the monastery at the summit

Consecrate yourself to the belt of Theotokos.
Listen if she speaks to you in the pine tree,
For sometimes she comes to woo saints.

And all your poetic art

Consecrate to the Virgin - I am all yours!
Let that be thy motto. Will she favour thee,
Then shall glory's laurel be yours.
CANTO XII

O Cyprus, be thou consecrated to Mary,

Who gleamed as the Jew's Aurore,
Who wore the star of the morning under her dress,
Consecrated to her Olympus and Pedhieos.

To her be consecrated the day of Salamis,

When Homer met Ahashveros,
To the star of the sea be consecrated the darkness
Of paganism and all pagan hopes.

The throne of wisdom, the idea of the philosophers,

Who gave birth to the world's reason,
You shall be sung by all the verses of the odes
Of lesbian poets in rut.

All Greece has its centre here

And the empire of Asia takes its beginning.
Assembly of the Olympians to thee
And celebrate thee, Mary Urania!

Olympic poets tragically praise

Thee virgin, mother, goddess, queen
Of heaven with the immaculate hymen,
Through which the Logos reveals the meaning.

I praise you the Queen of Earth,

I praise thee Queen of Cyprus,
Who with ever-gracious gesture
Frees the island from the vipers of sin.

To you Greeks found in the traditions

Of the pious fathers of Syria, silent monasteries,
Where hermits dwell in contemplation,
Redeemed in thee, and day by day more redeemed.

To thee Greeks say their rosaries

And pray perpetual prayer,
To thee all Cypriots consecrate dances
And every book in which your name is written.

To thee are consecrated all the myths of Homer,

To you, Charis, they consecrate the snows of Olympos,
To thee shall be consecrated all the ardour of Eros,
That you may transform it into Charity!

The Turks also honour thee, when they saddle

The donkeys when they ride to the princes,
They will gladly give you dates from the tree
And want to quench your soul's thirst.

They gladly consecrate manna and quail nests

To her who taught Zechariah,
She was Aaron's seer sister,
Hallowed be holiness, Mary.

The Turks and the Arabs worship

The immaculate virgin birth.
And Mary sang and danced by the seas,
Where God had prepared a ford.

It is you, queen of the seas,

Ocean of perfection,
In thee are reflected all the skies' glories,
Immortal soul in the purest garment!

O drop from the sea of God!

O pure crystal, o stilla maris,
O moonlit sea, O pure calm,
Crystal sea of heaven, O stella maris!

You shine over the sea again and again,

Grant that we may not fail in the tide,
You guide our little ship into the port,
Thou mayst widen the entrance into rest!

O smile down from the stairway to heaven,

To which Diotima hath pointed us,
O sweep us with thy silken rope
Over the sprayed sea at Paphos-Ktima!

Celestial great bear with the little bear,

Shine upon us when we are in distress!
And when we worship false goddesses,
Then lead us to thy dear child!

O mother of beautiful love, virgin thou,

Godly love teach us,
Yes, teach us love, love always,
As if nothing else were on earth!

Let us never doubt again, as Thomas did,

That Christ is come in flesh and blood,
And will never demonise that doctrine,
That thou art taken up with body and soul!

Yes, taken up into the kingdom of heaven

Immortal soul and transfigured body,
Thou art our queen so gracious
And to me the idea of the eternity of woman!
Who trusts in thee, thou wilt prove thyself
In thy unspeakably beautiful goodness,
More beautiful than the Houris of paradise
And more beautiful than the fair Aphrodite.

As a sign of your ascent into the universe

Thou hast left thy girdle behind,
O leave the girdle in the wall rampart
Grasp me as a relic of salvation!

The magic belt of all beautiful love

I will honour in the monastery of Olympos,
I want to touch it, so that my impulses
No longer resist true love.

Virgo intacta, everlasting

Blessed virgin in the sphere
Of the highest heaven, highly to be honoured,
I consecrate to thee my life's oceans!

Hail Mary Aphroditissa,

For Jesus Christ is the fullness of life,
That I may know him to be the fullness of life,
That through you be the will of the Most High!

Hail Mary Aphroditissa,

For Jesus Christ lives in God's kingdom,
He gives the kisses in communion,
That I hunger for!

Hail Mary Aphroditissa,

For to me the spirit came in the purest oil,
Let me raise it as a flag of love
With pure dove's soul woven into it!

Hail Mary Aphroditissa,

Thou pure soul in transfigured flesh,
Give me every virtue I miss,
Make me pure and sound, perfectly chaste!

Hail Mary Aphroditissa,

Queen of all the heavens,
Thou givest me thy love's kisses of grace
And take the consecration of thy poet's nymph!

Hail, Mary Aphroditita,

Who bridefully guides pious souls,
I will in secret and certain
Marry thee all day and all hour!

Your mouth speaks, you, Mary, wants to woo me

As your husband, who of poetic aspiration
And pious heart will consecrate all to thee
And this beautiful love of my life!

PART II

ODE TO APHRODITE

CHAPTER I

CANTO I

Sing, O Muse, the praising hymn of the divine Venus!

Not like the foolish theologies of ancient poets
I will fable of the holy mother Dione,
That daughter of Doris and Oceanus, neither
I believe that Zeus in the sea desires the mother Dione,
Nor that the titanic Cronos hated the father-god
And mutilated God the Father in the male member.
No, we Greek philosophers as monotheists
Believe that love is the daughter of the heavenly father alone.
Namely, the seed of the heavenly father floated in the sea,
Sea foam was born from the seed of the heavenly father,
From the sea foam born the goddess of love,
Rising from the foamy waters, walking naked
On the water and wringed the foam from her flowing hair
And covered the female pubic part with her right hand.
Sex-loving is Anadyomene, the goddess,
Chaste maiden goddess she is of heavenly love.
Well-formed is her white female body,
Her waist is slender, but her pelvis is wide,
Slender are her white naked arms, yet mighty her bosom,
Feminine is her countenance, sea-blue her tender gaze,
Black, how fitting to Greek beauty, the flowing tide of hair,
Small the nose, sensitive trembling the wings of the nose,
Tender trembling the lips, full voluptuous lips!
Anadyomene stood on the rosy shell,
Standing on the rosy shell of the feminine sex,
Swam thus through the sea, past the isle of Cythere,
Therefore she is called Cythereia and goddess Cythere,
But she wanted to go to Cyprus, wanted to go to Paphos,
That's why, at the rock Petra tou Romiou, naked
She emerged from the sea foam, stepped onto the hot whitish sandy beach,
Finally she rose, wandered into the interior of the island,
Beneath the cool little feet, the snow-white little feet.
Proud roses and modest violets bloomed.
Cypris now met the ever-worshipping Hours,
As she walked at noon over the Cyprian isle.
Among all the lovely and virginal Hours,
Newly sexually matured, most lovely girls.
Sext was the ruler in the hour of noon.
All the Hours now clothed the divine Cypris,
Handed to the goddess Cypris the slip, the black embroidered one,
Then handed her the brassiere, the black embroidered one,
Then gave her the little dress, a short one, up to the thighs,
The lovely little dress reached down to her thighs,
Which left free and visible the white ivory shoulders,
Which was so finely woven of Chinese silk,
That the silk, dipped in the air, was transparent, behold!
Aphrodite's body gleamed white through the silk.
Then the lovely Hours made up the toes of the feet
Of the lovely goddess with the blush of henna,
Of the Cyprian copher grape. They painted the lips
Of the lovely goddess with the darkest scarlet.
Then the Hours began to adorn the goddess Venus,
They tied chains around the ankles of her bare feet,
Silver jingling chains with little golden bells.
Around the round upper arm of the celestial Venus
They forged a bracelet in the shape of a snake,
A snake that takes the snake's tail in its mouth.
On the shell-shaped earlobes the Hours hung
Silver earrings with the jewellery of snow-white moonstone,
Around the slender long swan's neck the Hours hung
A silver necklace with lapis lazuli, blue
Lapis lazuli from the distant land of Egypt.
In the black tide of Venus's hair the Hours put
A golden clasp, the needle of marriage.
Thus the goddess, endowed with charms beyond all measure,
The goddess of all loveliness entered smilingly
The Olympic castle, the hall of the heavenly gods.
All Olympians alike coveted the lovely goddess!
When the lovely Cypris entered Olympus,
The goddess of pleasure rode in a balmy chariot,
Drawn by the ever-turbulent doves.
O how Venus loves the ever-turbulent doves,
When from the chestnut tree the dove cooing calls
His dove to the cheerful meeting of love,
When the dove and the pigeon are joined in a sacred love,
Publicly legally joined in sacred eternal love,
Fly from the top of the chestnut to the top of the oak,
Walk, ever cooing, down the narrow lane
Or in the highest month of blissful May
In the tops of the firs play games of love,
As they peck with their beaks in the bosom,
Spreading their wings, flapping their wings at the games of love,
So that the tops of the fir trees crackle with rutting lust!
But how Venus loves the swan, the king of the waters,
King of the waterfowl, of all the ducks and geese
And of the screaming laughing gulls, circling around ivory towers.
Aphrodite rode on the swan, the blackish swan,
Holding tightly with her lovely hand on the swan's neck,
Wildly the swan flapped its wings, the swan's neck twitched,
Aphrodite reared up on the swan's back,
Her mane fluttered, her breasts quivered mightily,
As she pressed the swan's flanks with her taut thighs.
Singing like in immortal pools of Elysium rejoicing
The swan ascended to the Olympian hall of the gods.
Hera received the goddess, the lily-armed Hera,
Sister and wife of the supreme Zeus Cronion.
Hestia blew into the flame, she was the guardian of the hearth.
Artemis came from the hunt, the virgin huntress hunted
A stag and hounded poor Aktaeon to death.
Virgin wise gazed the daughter of Zeus, radiant Athena,
Who ever guided the wise Odysseus.
His golden locks shook beautiful Apollo,
All the muses strove to please their god.
His blue mane mightily shook Poseidon,
Who quarreled with Amphitrite, the quarrelsome housewife.
Hermes, the god of thieves, the guide of dead souls,
Counted the gods and asked: Where is the divine Ares?
If one speaks of Ares, behold, the glorious Ares is about to come,
Ares entered the heavenly abode of Olympian gods,
Zeus the father greeted his divine offspring:
Sit down to the meal and feed Ambrosia, darling,
Take the cup, my son, and drink of the heavenly nectar!
Thus Zeus the Father invited to the blessed supper all,
All the gods and goddesses, Zeus himself the Ganymede boy
Asked, the loveliest of all God's young darlings,
To fill his mighty cup with foaming nectar!
Ares also raised the cup and drank to the father of the gods,
Ares drank to the Father of Gods, the Father of Men,
Ares drank to the Thunderer and the Cloud Gatherer,
Drank to the sister-bride, the lily-armed Hera,
Drank to the wife of God, the mother of the eternal gods,
Ares drank to the divine wine and the divine love,
Until the god was intoxicated, then he saw the lovely Cypris!
O how glowed the beautifully arched cheeks of Venus,
Fiery heated and flushed with the fiery wine,
O how Venus' eyes glowed like cosmic lightning!
Most electrically charged with energies of the cosmos!
Ares said: Who are you, most lovely goddess?
Aphrodite said: Come and see, my Ares,
See how I dwell, and become my friend and know me!
Then Aphrodite sat again lost in thought,
Deeply immersed in dreams, gazing at mysteries.
Absent-mindedly she took from the table the silver spoon,
Dipped the spoon in the pot of honey,
Lifting the silver spoon dripping with golden honey
To her mouth and licked the honey from the spoon.
Ares looked at her, he was in love with Venus!

CANTO II
When Zeus, king of the gods, was still a youth,
Unmarried, he took his own sister
Hera for the premarital fornication of lust.
From this fornication and, moreover, incestuous union
The labourer god Hephestus, the bastard, sprang from it.
Zeus, however, made Hephestus a master craftsman.
But Hera detested this ugly bastard,
Yes, the mother threw her own son from Olympos!
But the sea goddess Thetis took pity on him,
Raised him up. He learned his craft, created his works,
To prove to the fierce mother, the lily-poor Hera,
To prove that he was reconciled with his mother,
He sent a work of art to the mother on Olympus,
A throne of gods for lily-armed Hera.
Zeus' wife, the mother Hera, sat in the throne,
But she could no longer rise from the sacred throne,
For Hephaestus banished her with magic arts.
Hera sent Dionysus from Olympus to earth,
To fetch her son Hephaestus to free her.
Zeus' and Semele's son Dionysos brought
Hera's bastard Hephaestus a huge wineskin.
But Hephestus was a sober drinker of water,
But Dionysus said: Artist, make a cup,
Broad and well-rounded, from it you shall sip wine,
But first you shall sniff with your nose the fragrance of wine,
Then let the wine caress thy tongue,
With the taste buds of thy palate taste the red wine,
Which I have procured for thee from Celtic Gaul.
In short, Hephestus was drunk, for he could not drink the wine.
Ha, Dionysus laughed at the drinker of water,
But he put the bastard Hephestus to sleep
In his chariot, drawn by velvet-black panthers,
He was escorted by elegant female felines,
Drunk as a skunk, Silen rode on the braying donkey,
On the braying donkey's stallion with staring limb.
Maenads danced to the drums and cymbals and triangles,
Their long curls flowing and their breasts bouncing,
Swinging their pelvises lasciviously and making them gyrate in the belly dance.
This is how the bastard Hephestus came to the Olympic gods.
Father Zeus welcomed the bastard, the fruit of his sin:
Now free the mother, the lily-armed Hera,
Then demand what you will, be it a heaven full of nymphs!
But Hephestus saw the unmarried Cythere,
Said, O Zeus, give me the unmarried Cythere,
If no other of the celestials will have her,
I will take her of necessity for a legal marriage contract.
But Hephaestus did not fulfil his marriage duties.
Now Hephaestus was always hard at work during the day,
But Aphrodite was bored with idleness,
In the eternal idleness she had the idea,
To visit Ares. She entered the chamber of the divine.
Ares looked, and behold, Aphrodite doused
Shone with divine splendour of supernal beauty!
Ares was enraptured by the divine beauty of Venus,
He rose from his bed and said: Cypris, O Cypris!
She tenderly touched the god's waist with her right hand
And said, Come and follow me, glorious Ares!
Down in southern Greece there is a pine grove,
Let us go for a walk there, friend and beloved!
So they went for a walk in the southern Greek pine forest,
Laughing they went for a walk. Squirrels licked pine cones.
Fire from the southern sun fell into the green wilderness.
Venus wore a little rose-red dress, a short one,
Barely covering her white, taut thighs,
Uncovered the arms, muscular and beautiful,
Even the breasts were only half-covered by the dress,
Milky white, the full breasts of the divine Venus
Out of the fiery dress. And Ares tore it off,
And pulled down Venus's pink panties!
Willingly Venus worshipped herself in the forest floor, luring
Ares pulled her down and lustfully they made love!
Aphrodite was the inventor of the arts of love,
She knew all the positions of lustful play.
And the refined lust master let her tongue
Playing with the twitching tongue of the divine man.
But from the southern Greek sky, the sun of the south,
Looked Helios, looked voyeuristically the sun,
Saw the adulterous lovers courting,
As they did in the daytime under the open sky.
Helios told Hephestus straight away. At the workplace
Angry Hephestus the bastard made plans of revenge.
Have you seen my Olympian bedroom yet, divine Ares?
Venus opened her door to the bedroom. Behold,
My beloved, the consecrations of all my pious worshippers
There, made of crystal, a floating nymph,
Holding in her hands a heart full of fiery flames,
There painted by Apelles the image of the sea-foam-born,
There, by Praxiteles, beautifully formed, the knidish Venus,
There idols, a chorus of dancing Bacchus maenads,
There an alabaster flacon full of precious nard,
The precious nard is worth more than three hundred denarii,
A votive offering from far-off Tyre and Sidon.
Ares said: O how fragrant is your pillow, O Venus!
Ares put his nose into the pillow and sniffed.
Aphrodite was already lying naked under the covers,
Only her long black hair flowed onto the pillow.
Again Ares and Aphrodite broke the marriage!
Drops of sweat beaded on the skin of naked Venus.
But like a spider's web of the hideous spider
(Venus hated spiders beyond measure),
Like a golden spider's web a work of art covered them
By Hephaestus' hand, invisible threads spun,
Spun stickily over the naked bodies of Venus
And Ares, who still lay between Venus' thighs,
Venus still spread her divine thighs,
When Hephaestus entered, and all the Olympian gods,
And the gods laughed their Olympian laugh!
Vengeful, Hephaestus loosed the spider's web,
Golden threads the husband unravelled, the naked Venus slipped away.
She mounted the chariot, drawn by doves,
To Paphos, Old Paphos or New Paphos. Venus
Bathed in the Fontana Amorosa, the spring,
Naked she stood in the bath. From above cascades of water
Flooded Aphrodite's naked body.
Young lovely graces anointed with oil from the olive tree
Aphrodite's naked body and clothed Venus
Short and sweet with a snow-white silken shirt.
Now Aphrodite had become a virgin again,
With a hymen intact a virgin goddess again!
Well, Hephestus divorced her. Zeus gave to Hephestus
Another wife, the young Charis Aglaja.
But Ares and Aphrodite continued to love each other
As a friend loves a girlfriend in spiritual friendship,
As a brother loves a sister in heartfelt love.
But Ares, initiated by Aphrodite into the mysteries of love,
Love‘s mysteries, in the refined arts of lust,
Could not break away from lust, seeking pleasure,
The pleasures of lust and sensual love.
One day of eternity, in the radiance of light,
The eager god saw the young girl Aurora.
O how beautiful she seemed to him, the lovely girl Aurora!
Fourteen years young, the miracle of a lady full of charm,
Reddish-blonde her curls, falling on snow-white shoulders,
White and round like a sacrificial bread was the maiden's face,
Her lips painted crimson with laughter and kisses,
She stood before him in a little shirt, with white naked arms,
She stood before him in a skirt, her thighs still naked,
Laughed at him with dark red kissing lips:
Lord God Ares, my neighbour in the Olympic flat,
How you gaze at me with hungry lust!
Celestial girl, moaned Ares, let yourself be known!
Aurora, the girl, led him into the bedroom. Chattering
Cockatiels played in the cage and made noise.
Aurora lay in the bed, naked under the covers,
Aurora stretched out her naked rose arm to Ares,
Aurora pulled him and Ares sank into Aurora's embrace.
Yes, the god slept on the fourteen-year-old girl,
But he confessed this to Venus in the next few days.
Ah, how furiously jealous was the goddess
Venus, like a scorpion, like a fury raced
Aphrodite and cursed with black magic spells:
The fourteen-year-old tramp! I'll put a spell on your body,
Unquenchable sexual lust and horniness!
Fourteen-year-old slut! Nymphomaniac of the sky
Shall you be, no man can ever satisfy you!
But when spring returned in heaven,
Then Aphrodite and Ares were reconciled again.

CANTO III

Hermes, philosophers call him god of the learned,

Dying men call him Psychopompus, guide of souls,
Gods call him winged messenger of the gods,
But the youths in the lust of youth
Honour Hermes in the stone, in his phallic herm,
On top of the herm the head of a bearded man,
But the body of Hermes like the standing phallus.
Women especially love the stone deity of the phallus,
Come and bring to supper white bread and red wine,
Bringing goat's cheese, olives and delicious eggs,
Eggs of chickens and quails tiny eggs,
Bringing curds and honey and bread with the grains of sesame,
So they invite to supper God in the pillar.
Cypris too, she wanted to enjoy the phallic Hermes,
Said to the divine youth, O thou king of thieves,
I am the goddess of all sexual desire,
You are the sublime god of male phallic sex!
Female sex goddess me and you the male sex god,
We were made for each other by eternal destiny!
Once in the Golden Age we were One Sphere,
Were One Flesh, united into One Being.
But Father Zeus has split us in two.
Eternally now the lustful male seeks the lustful female,
Eternally now the procreative potency seeks the pure conception,
Eternally phallus and vulva seek to unite!
Hermes smiled, What Platonic wisdom, O Goddess!
But for all the learned Platonism, O Goddess,
My wisdom has always dwindled in the face of female charms!
Yes, my impulse wants to beget, to beget in the bosom of beauty,
In you my impulse wants to beget the holiest of children,
But the power of desire seeks enjoyment and pleasure,
Seeks satisfaction. Aphrodite, my limbs itch!
Aphrodite created the most beautiful satisfaction for Hermes,
Behold, the mighty breasts of the goddess of love swelled,
Swelled up, the breasts now resembled divine mountains!
Aphrodite gave birth to the offspring Hermaphroditus,
This Hermaphroditus was a feminist youth,
Hermaphrodite was like the androgynous primal man.
O primeval man, created as man and woman by the Godhead!
But love loves to wander from one to the other.
Aphrodite walked dreaming by the great marble sphinx,
On the other side Dionysus walked dreaming.
What did Dionysus dream of? Dreaming of India's mother
Uma, when over yonder he beheld Aphrodite,
White her naked arms and white her naked legs
And only the lap and breasts covered by the reddish dress.
Drunk with love, Dionysus plucked a rose,
He took the swollen wineskin in his right hand,
Rushed after Aphrodite and found her in the room
Beside Praxiteles' image of the knidish Venus.
Drink with me, beloved, drink of the purple wine,
Which I have harvested, pressed in Celtic Gaul!
Yes, Dionysus, with pleasure I drink of the Gallic wine,
Let the foaming wine from the wineskin flow into the cup!
And so they both drank. The gods were drunk.
Aphrodite lay naked on the glorious bed,
Under a purple velvet blanket by the myriad of pillows
Aphrodite and Dionysus often made love.
Yes, the inebriated one slept with the inebriated one in a rapturous way
And they slept the love-sleep of intoxicating lust.
Never were the maenads so lustful in dance,
Though they waved their cymbals and tore their garments from their bodies,
Never so intoxicating were the orgiastic women
As the divine Aphrodite in the act in the bed!
At that time the son of Semele Bacchus was deified!
But the fruit of their love was the great Priap.
True, the god Priap was not the most beautiful of men,
But his phallus was certainly the greatest of the phalli,
Not only the longest phallus, but also the widest phallus,
That's why the beautiful women always pray to Priap
And erect the scarecrow Priap in the garden.
But Aphrodite gave birth to a divine offspring,
Whom the philosophers call the first of the gods,
But the lesbian poetess says it is Uranos' father
Of this divinely begotten Eros, of the divine son
Most beautiful mother, Urania Venus.
But Eros is equipped with bow and arrows,
For love is bound up with terrible pain!
Behold the arrows of Eros, they are fiery arrows,
They pierce the heart and work bleeding hearts
The agony of love, and the martyrdom of the heart
For the suitor, inflamed with the torch of Eros
To the beloved rushes to give the soul to the beloved,
But the lover gives only the answer of hostile hate
And damns the lover to truly hellish torments!
Behold, then the suitor, weeping, pleads to the heavenly Venus:
Venus Urania, have mercy, have mercy,
Take away the deadly arrows of the terrible Eros,
Close with motherly kisses the wounds of my heart,
With heavenly healing heal the sickness of my soul,
Let me rest in your embrace, divine Mother,
Ideal of beauty be thou alone to me, O Venus,
Dedicated to you, I give myself to you, Urania Venus,
Platonic soul of the world and mistress of the cosmos,
All the worlds hang on your lily arm
Like the rosy pearls on the string of pearls, Venus,
Who are the divine love, the beauty of love,
Who within the cosmos holds the cosmos together!
Venus Urania truly heard the suitor's prayers
And so we see the cruel-terrible Eros grieving
Standing without bow and arrow at the throne of the Mother,
For the heavenly Mother took away the divine boy's
Instruments of torture away and redeemed the suitor,
Who trusted in the heart of heavenly Aphrodite!
But Eros said, I was at a wedding celebration,
Psyché I chose as my bride and spouse,
Psyché, whom the poets on earth compared to Venus!
Psyché was adorned for the wedding with Eros. Ah, beloved,
As if to death thou went'st to be wedded to Eros!
Eros was with thee in thy dark bridal chamber,
There you lay in Eros' arms and wept tears of joy,
Blessed tears you wept and were comforted!
But, alas, sins parted Psyché from Eros,
Eros could not stay in the bridal chamber, Psyché.
But the heavenly Aphrodite took care of the bride,
Psyché became the handmaiden of the heavenly Mother of Love.
Psyché had to endure many trials and pains
Carry and sacrifice and weep tears of repentance,
Yes, she had to go down into the twilight realm of shadows,
Through the dark nights to the dawn, where Venus
Stood at the gates of heaven. Psyché consecrated herself to Venus!
Stella Matutina! In the third heaven the princess
Venus reigns, in the third heaven of loving souls!
Venus led the purgated Psyché to the god,
To her son, the bride-minded divine Eros.
Beautiful Hours, the Matins and the Sext and the Vespers,
Ever-praying Hours led the fairer Psyché
To the god and spouse, and all the sacred muses
Stroked the harps, Urania made the heavens resound,
All the gods and goddesses, all the heavenly thrones,
All the blissful spirits and genii, even the sirens.
And the pure demons of philosophic wisdom
Greeted the purgated Psyché in the arms of Eros!
Zeus-father smilingly blessed the marriage of Eros and Psyché!

CHAPTER II

CANTO I

I was on the island of Helios

Rhodes, there I met
Charikles, Kallikratidas,
Luxurious young men.

Since they wanted to go to Italy,

They wanted to visit first
Aphrodite, the famous
Goddess Knidia of Knidos.
We visited the surrounding countryside,
The painting galleries,
Then climbed up to the temple
Of the famous Aphrodite.

O, how dense the atmosphere

Of eroticism around the temple,
Atmosphere aphrodisiac
Sweetly shuddered through the pilgrims.

Myrtles, rich in fruit, are fragrant,

High up the cypresses strive,
Lush is the vine, lush
Carrying the heavy load of grapes.

Daphne's laurel tree, ah Daphne

Wouldn‘t know of the goddess
Aphrodite, but today
Daphne also serves Aphrodite.

Benches stand there in the shade,

Inviting you to stand in love.
The genius loci is palpable here
Aphrodisiac and erotic.

So we entered the temple.

Inside the temple
In the middle stands the image
Of a goddess who is larger than life.

Towering her majesty,

Slightly opened her lips,
Mildly smiling, without a covering,
The goddess is completely naked!

Such mighty things have been created

By the genius of the artist,
That the brittle marble goddess
Is alive and elastic.

Therefore all temple pilgrims

Behave even in the temple
Not as before a stone,
But as before a goddess,

A goddess who is alive,

Willing to invite pilgrims
Is the feminine goddess.
I lose my composure!

The Corinthian as a praying man

Praises the god of war Ares blessedly,
Who for the sake of this beauty
Let himself be caught in the fetters.

He did not stand aloof

Before the great marble goddess,
But kissed her thighs,
Which he could just reach.

The Athenian still stood in silence,

He was a cool reserved one,
But the revelation of beauty
Still seized the Athenian,

For he looked at the goddess

Knidia from behind, behold,
Glorious was the beauty of the ass,
Such beauty was so great!

As if struck by lightning he stood

Before the goddess: This ass
Is a shapely ass
And the round hips invite

To the loving embrace,

O to embrace the hips!
Deliciously round are the embers,
Not too fat and not too lean!

O how sweetly the dimples laugh

On the shapely hips!
Indescribable how the thighs
To the bare feet lead!

Meanwhile the Corinthian

Stood frozen in astonishment.
The longing and moist look in his
Look in his eyes showed

Passion that dominated him.

But on the inside of her thigh,
On her inner thigh was a spot.
Said the guard of the temple,

Once a young man

Often visited
Knidia in her cell,
Was in love with Aphrodite!

For long days he sat sighing

Before the goddess, gazing
Her naked beauty,
Heaving sighs of love.
But he found no peace,
Though he offered all to the goddess,
Sacrificing everything at the goddess' feet,
Painting verses on the walls.

So he lost control
Over himself and so in the evening
Locked up by the guards
He remained in the cell of the goddess.

When the dawn came,

Traces of the embrace were seen
And the goddess bore the stain,
Where he had poured his seed out.

CANTO II

O Callipigos, O Goddess
Venus with the beautiful buttocks,
Thy marble statue I behold
With admiration and delight!

Are you a dancing queen, O goddess,

Who looks at thy ass,
The bare one, surely you want,
That I may praise thy ass!

Syracuse once founded

An aphrodisiac buttocks cult.
At the philosopher's banquet
Let us hear of its foundation.

Once people were fully

Passionate about lust
And sensual pleasures,
That they built a temple

For Callipigos, the goddess

Venus with the beautiful buttocks.
For there was once a peasant
Who had two beautiful daughters

And they quarreled with each other:

Who has the most beautiful ass?
To decide the question,
They stood on the road.

Just then a young man passed by,

Heir to a rich father,
To whom they both presented
Their beautiful buttocks questioningly.

He looked at their bottoms,

Said, Elder of the sisters,
Tauter, plumper is thy ass,
Your pelvis is admirable too!

This youth now fell in love

With the elder of the sisters
With the one with the plump
Buttocks and the wide pelvis!

When the youth had returned home

He was lovesick with longing.
He confessed this to his brother,
He went to the sisters himself

And fell in love with the other girl.

A double wedding
Was celebrated in the country.
Now the two farmers' daughters

Were wives of rich men,

For this they thanked the goddess
Venus with the beautiful ass,
Goddess with the firm buttocks!

Then the young man reported,

Who had decided the case:
Between the daughters Thrygallis
And Myrrhine was a dispute,

Who has the most beautiful ass?

Wose ass is the fairest,
Graceful and without blemish?
This I was to decide.

And Myrrhine being the first

Undid her chastity belt
Standing before me in transparent
Silken panties,

Showing all her charms,

Looking over her shoulder
At her round buttocks
And moved her cheeks.

But Thrygallis trumped

Her sister-competitor,
As she stripped herself completely bare
And praised herself with the words,
Behold this colour, this
Rosy of the white hips
And look at the transition
To the taut, firm thighs,

Look at the buttocks,

On the mound of pretty dimples
My buttocks wobble
Not like Myrrhine's cheeks.

So said the young man-judge,

Had Paris once on Ida
Thrygallis' buttocks
Nakedly looked, verily,

After that he asked no more

Of Aphrodite's ass
And Hera's ass
And Athena's ass!

CANTO III

When Alcestis, faithful wife,

Took her leave of Admet
To go to death for him
As a proxy sacrifice,

The one who stayed behind swore to her

In movement of great love
Over his spouse's sacrifice
To mourn always, to be faithful.

Yes, he would procure for himself a likeness

Of his beloved wife
And with this marble wife
To live together in wedlock.

O beloved wife, thy likeness

Is a beautiful work of art,
Naked shall this marble wife
Lie with me in the bed,

I want to sink down loving

Between her marble breasts
And wrap my arms around
Her round marble hips

And will call your name,

O most beloved Alcestis,
And will think that I love
Thy body in my arms.
Though the most beautiful marble body
Gives but cold pleasure,
But I must relieve myself
From the longing of my love.

But with the statue love

Came the therapists too,
You must say goodbye, widower,
And forget thy dead.

Apollonius of Tyana
Once heard of a man
Who was in love
With the ruler of Knidos,

Was in love with that goddess

Knidia, the naked goddess,
And would with Aphrodite
Spiritually live in marriage.

In the house of the goddess of Knidos

Even the priests of Aphrodite
Were not able to absolve this youth,
To absolve this youth from madness.

Apollonius of Tyana
Now with rational reasons
Proved to this youth
That like with like was mated,

The goddess mates with the gods,

Females mate with males,
With dogs and men,
Not the goddess wooeth man.

But whether the exorcism

Has helped this youth?
Makareus was of Perintheus,
Who loved Aphrodite,

Wanted to marry Knidia.

Then Aphrodite appeared to him,
Gave him for wife the hetaera
Ischas, who came from Knidos.

CANTO IV

O most beautiful of Olympos,

The fairest of the Olympians,
Aphrodite, how can an artist
Ever your likeness create?

Cypris once beheld the statue

Of Knidia and cried out at the sight,
How and where and when did
Praxiteles see me naked?

Many a mortal was granted the privilege

By Aphrodite, to see her naked,
The mythologists tell us
The names of the most blessed.

Paris and Anchises saw

And Adonis the naked Venus,
But when did
Praxiteles see the goddess naked?

As once Paris on the Ida

Aphrodite saw naked
And gave her the prize of the apple
As the most beautiful goddess of all,

So Praxiteles beheld
Goddess Knidia, the naked one,
Created the naked marble goddess,
Everyone can see her now,

All Knidians behold

The tempting form
And in the Vatican the Romans
Convey her to the world.

Plato, seer of ideas,

Saw the ideal goddess,
Beautiful nakedness - naked beauty -
Saw Urania in the icon,

Said, Praxiteles did not create

This goddess in the marble,
But naked here stands the goddess
As once before the judge Paris.

Across the sea Aphrodite went

To the beautiful island of Knidos,
Beheld in the temple cell
There the naked marble portrait,

Which Praxiteles formed

And consecrated to Aphrodite.
In the cell the goddess spoke,
Looking at the marble portrait,
O Praxiteles, master,
Where did you see me naked?
But Praxiteles saw Cypris
Never completely naked in truth,

But he created the goddess,

As Ares longed for her,
Dreamed of her with desire,
When he wanted to make love to her.

CANTO V

O Praxiteles, confess,
Phryne was the model
For the naked marble goddess
Knidia full of love's charms.

Earthly indeed, but a dream woman,

The most famous hetaera,
The most famous hetaera in Greece
Stood model for Aphrodite.

Athenaeus testified to this

And also that Apelles painted
Venus Anadyomene,
Who rose from the foam of the sea

After the model of Phryne.

Socrates visited
Also the studio, when Phryne
Stood model for a Venus.

Yes, Praxiteles created

Has two Aphrodite pictures
In Phryne's likeness, both of them
Beautifully clothed and not naked.

Phryne herself asked the artist

To transfigure his model
As a veiled Aphrodite
In the golden glow of the robe.

A veiled statue,
Phryne came into the temple of Eros.
There already stood the Eros statue,
That Praxiteles made.

And the other veiled statue

Of Aphrodite,
Phryne came to the temple of Delphi,
Phryne, beautifully transfigured to Venus.
How was Phryne's body formed?
How was Phryne's body built?
Yes, they call the naked goddess
Knidia, full of charm and beauty,

A woman of forty years,

But young at heart, lovely,
Aphrodisiac and erotic,
Goddess Phryne, aged forty years,

Fifty years old even was Phryne,

Goddess Phryne Aphrodite,
When Apelles painted Phryne
As Anadyomene.

Already antiquity confused

The statue of Phyrne
With the statue of Venus,
Venus Phryne - Phryne Venus.

Now formed was of marble

The idol of the goddess Phryne
And the marble goddess Phryne
Wrote Praxiteles a little letter,

Have no fear, my artist,

You have created an image
As no man has ever created,
Your girl-friend has become a goddess.

Phryne is now worshipped

As the goddess Aphrodite
In the great temple of Eros
And the sanctuary of Delphi.

Yes, now the goddess Phryne stands

Between Knidia and Eros.
Who looks at me and the gods,
Praise thee, the artist, as creator.

The Greeks revere me

And they think me worthy,
To stand among goddesses,
Goddess among gods of love.

Only one thing is missing, friend: O come now

To me in the temple of Eros,
That under the eyes of the gods
We make love on the ground!

Aphrodite will not mind,

Nor will Eros mind.
You, the creator of these gods,
Make love with your goddess!

CANTO VI

Lady Venus became a lady

In noble society.
There was a pilgrim once, a lover,
Seeking the secret flower,

Seeking a blue flower,

The secret rose,
Which in the castle of love
Saved up and locked tight!

Nature, the Great Mother,

Had wisely equipped
This pilgrim, this lover:
Pilgrim's staff and pilgrim's bag

He held in his right hand at all times.

So with Lady Venus he went
To the round castle of love,
Which he sought to conquer.

Lady Venus was clothed

According to virtue and discipline.
On her head was a veil,
Around her breast a belt of chastity,

Her robe of white silk

Floated down to her feet,
It was closed up to her neck,
Sleeves fell on her hands.

But in the castle of love

There stood a marble image of the goddess,
Aphrodisiac and erotic,
Naked, greek and natural.

On two high pillar legs

Stood the naked goddess of beauty,
Between these pillar legs
The loophole was to be seen!

Even Lady Venus took aim

With the fiery arrow of Eros
At the embrasure between pillars,
Setting that castle ablaze.
And the pilgrim or lover
Took the staff with his right hand,
Tied to the pilgrim's staff
The pilgrim's bag was to be seen.

With fervent prayers,

Moaning to the god of love,
With the pilgrim's staff he pierced
Through the gap between pillars.

Pilgrim's staff and pilgrim's bag

Pushed through the narrow gap
And the pillar legs shook,
Venus crashed to the ground.

Aphrodite's debris rolled

Through the meadow on the ground.
Into the castle of love now
Triumphantly the pilgrim entered,

Plucked there the Blue Flower,

The mysterious rose,
Which there saved, locked,
Waited till he plucked it!

But if Lady Venus

Had not helped her pilgrim,
He could not have plucked the Blue Flower,
Could not have plucked it so hastily!

CANTO VII

When did the goddess of beauty came

Into the heart of the Christian world?
A thousand and five hundred years
Was the goddess of love displaced.

Fifteen hundred and three

The Belvedere Villa was built.
Pope Julius the Second
And his architect Bramante

Collected the most beautiful pictures,

Laocoon, Apollo,
And the beautiful Venus felix
Stands in the garden of love,

Vividarium Veneris!
This beautiful Venus felix
Followed Knidia, like her.
Cupid stood by her side.
This beautiful Venus felix
Chastely wraps her lower body
With the finest drapery.
Thus she pleased the apostle!

Lilia! You know Venus

And Cupid, those gods
Of antiquity? Our Pope
Julius the Second took

Them from Roman ruins,

Where they were recently discovered,
Placed them in a grove:
Golden oranges and limes!

Pope Julius the Second

Died, and it was made Pope
A Teuton! Holy Father became
Hadrian the Fourth!

Hadrian the Fourth said

In view of Venus in the
Vividarium Veneris:
Ancient idolatry stop!

In the time of the tenth Leo

A Roman wrote these verses,
Mars was - now is Minerva -
But always will be Venus!

Fifteen hundred and forty

A Knidia was made by two artists
For the king of the French.
Fontainebleau saw this Venus!

Those artists of the French

Chose not the Venus felix,
But the one from Belvedere,
That totally naked goddess!

All the poets praised hymnally

The French Cythere,
That Belvedere Venus
Unveiled lower body!

Botticelli had Venus

Totally naked, in life-size,
Beautifully painted on her shell:
Medicean Cythere!

The birth of Venus was painted by

Sandro Botticelli, but
Not the Anadyomene,
But Pudica, the chaste one!

Venus Pudica was praised

By all poets. Alighierei
Has seen the Pudica
Glorious in purgatory!

Venus Medici, the chaste

Venus Pudica, she was thought
For the Knidia, the true one,
Created by Praxiteles.

Even the prince of poets Goethe

Saw the Botticelli Venus
As the true Aphrodite
Of Praxiteles and Knidos.

Seventeen hundred and twenty-eight

Had son and father, Britons,
The French Cythere seen
As the true goddess Knidia.

This Belvedere Venus,

Not the Medici Cythere
Nor Venus felix,
Be the Knidia, the true one.

C'est la vraie fameuse Vénus,

Gnidienne de Praxitile!
Goethe's friend, the Goethe-Mayer,
But thought Venus

As the Medici-Cythere,
That was poetically truer
Than the Belvedere Venus
And the Knidia of coins.

Seventeen hundred and eighty-one

Now the man Colona gave
Pope Pius a Venus.
To the seventh Pius gave

That man the Colonna a Venus,

Who was originally naked! The Pope
Pius gave her drapery
Up to the navel of her belly.

For it was Pope Pius‘s will,

Not that of another pious pilgrim
Before the Vatican's Venus
In Saint Peter!

Oh, ye Vicars of Christ

In the Vatican of Rome!
Three images of Cythera you have,
One you show only to the people!

Christ, Peter and Mary!

Hear my sighs and my groans!
Let me see the forbidden images
Of the most beautiful Aphrodites!

May I only in purgatory

See Aphrodite naked?
(.......................................
........................................)

PART III

APHRODITE IN FLAMES

A Comedy

SCENE I

(Homer alone in his house.)

HOMER
Now I am fifty years old,
Death approaches me with power,
But whom the young gods love,
So it is written,
They let him die young
And inherit Elysium.
Old age is a grey man,
He knocks at the wrong time
And disturbs me in my pleasant leisure
And calls to repentance and penance.
Now, the birthday I shall celebrate,
I shall tune my golden lyre
And sing hymns for the day
When I was born. I may not
Tell it my mother,
But I must mourn this day:
Alas, mother, that I was born of thee,
Who in the blind world ist lost
As a god-seer among the blind,
To find nothing but misery!
But Aphrodite is sociable,
She celebrates me. But subliminally
She celebrates herself and wants,
That I may not be lonely and silent,
That I may prepare in the nest
The merriment of a feast.
That Aphrodite on the scene
Is not lonely, Athena comes too,
Aphrodite's bosom friend
And my worst fiend.
The pious poet shall not blaspheme,
The two beautiful sisters of heaven
Have been my delight for twenty years.
They began as young butchers,
Now they are pious old nuns
And chaste as holy Madonnas.
But Aphrodite jealously
Beholds when Athena chastely
Draws me to passions,
Wise as Odysseus I am
And pray to Athena's radiance
And weep tear after tear
With longing for love every night.
But Aphrodite loves to laugh.
But now I tell a secret,
Now without further adieu
I await the birthday feast,
Because something new can be seen.
But the new is the old.
In my youth in the forest,
I loved the chaste deer,
The hind as white as snow,
Moon goddess in the darkness,
The love of my youth, Artemis!
And Artemis wrote a letter
With words of love beautiful and deep,
She would visit me again
And taste fig cake with me
And chat of old times.
Muses, I shudder!
When Artemis enters the scene,
I will compare her to Athena.
In my quiet chamber
See the ideal of my youth,
By the ideal of my age
I sit. Strings of my psaltery,
Whom then will you praise?
To whom will my senses rage?
Ah, Artemis in her youth
Was virgin goddess full of virtue,
And Aphrodite on the shore
Wildly shook her great breasts,
Athena in Hesperia
Instructed me in the mysteries.
Three goddesses, O what a torment!
They should all be One!
Like Artemis she should stride
And glide chastely like a hind,
Like Aphrodite she should laugh
And do lovely things
And should talk like Athena
Only of Elysium and Eden.
I'm all excited, muses,
I need Aphrodite's bosom,
To still my troubled will
At Aphrodite's breast!
That after the eclipse of death
I shall see Artemis again!
However, the doorbell rings,
Aphrodite stands before it,
The goddess with the beautiful ass,
She comes with her dear children.

SCENE II

(Homer, the fifty-year-old Aphrodite, with her son, the ten-year-old Apollo, and the six-year-old
twins Eros and Anteros. Eros and Anteros enter Homer's hermit's cell making merry noises).

APHRODITE
Much delight in love and many blessings,
My darling, on all your ways!
HOMER
What dost thou give me for a lamentable day?
APHRODITE
What you wish, my darling, say!
HOMER
O, once more I would kiss thee!
How hard to miss thy kisses!
APHRODITE
Here on the soft peach cheek,
On my brown curly cheek?
HOMER
No, Aphrodite, on the lips!
And not just sip the mouth like that!
No, hot kisses shall do,
To suck the juice from my marrow!
(Aphrodite kisses Homer.)
APHRODITE
Now, my much-loved children,
Homer is an overcomer,
He was in the worldly theatre
To you like a dear father of hearts!
Come, clasp each other's paws,
Serenade Father Homer!
THE CHILDREN
(singing)
How wonderful that you were born,
We would have missed you so much!
APOLLO
Homer, all those books
Have you read, father, have you?
HOMER
Have had many books
Of bad poets untalented
And also of excellent poets,
Of priests of muses and prophets!
If I still had them all today,
They would reach me to my bed,
I would not find room in my parlour,
No more room for a sweetheart!
EROS
When may I sleep near you again?
My ship wants to go home!
They call me rascal and rogue and knave,
I'm only happy in your parlour!
APOLLO
Yes, in the unventilated parlour
It always smells of sweets!
ANTEROS
What are you doing with all these bottles?
Do you have something tasty to snack on?
HOMER
For Aphrodite fig cake
And also two sultana cakes.
APHORODITE
A fig cake, what a delight!
How my heart leaps in my breast!
And two sultana cakes too!
A butterfly flutters in my belly!
APOLLO
Come, Eros, to the toy box!
EROS
Not until my Homer kissed me!
APOLLO
Anteros, come on, let's play,
Here in the toy box rummage.
EROS
I am the sweet boy Eros
And you my father Homer,
I want to sit on your lap,
I want to look you in the eyes,
My arms around your neck
And kiss with my lips,
With my lips your lips
And then sip the apple nectar.
APHRODITE
My child, as true as Jesus Christ lives,
You know that you are the darling
And that the little imp of father Homer,
He is foolishly in love with Eros!
But have mercy on the mother,
My bosom is as white as butter,
I became because of my bosom
One of Homer's muses too,
When I was the merry-go-round!
HOMER
Yes, darling, and because of your tongue!
APHRODITE
How, because of my silly chattering,
How, or because of my smacking?
HOMER
How your tongue caresses me!
Memories are my consolation!
(The doorbell rings.)

SCENE III

(Homer, Aphrodite and her children, the fifty-year-old Athena enters).

ATHENE
Homer, my friend, I wish you happiness!
HOMER
Back to being unborn?
ATHENE
Happiness is only at the goal, see,
Eternal eudaemonia
Awaits you! But consider:
Happiness is not useful as a path.
APHRODITE
Do you seek the secret of happiness?
Find a friend by the Styx...
ATHENE
O Aphrodite, bosom friend,
Thou my worst enemy of heart,
Tyrant of all the sky gods,
I hope the weather is fine today,
I'll take a stroll through the field
To the quiet, beautiful oak grove.
APHRODITE
What do you want to look for in the forest?
Here waits your fig cake!
ATHENE
O, cake! Like in paradise!
The fig is as sweet as honey!
APHRODITE
And look, Homer, the old chap,
Has a pitcher of goat's milk.
ATHENE
He calls us both: old bitches
And already longs for young bucks!
APHRODITE
Whether old bitches, young ricks,
Men always want to fuck!
HOMER
In my youth a poem
I read to you, I rhymed simply
The bell's dangling tinkle
To God's cheerfulness in heaven.
APHRODITE
I rhymed: Heaven and tinkling bells,
I know, Homer, that rhymes with Willy.
ATHENE
He also calls us already: old whores!
But we are divine natures!
If we so despise ourselves
And regard ourselves as temple whores,
We ourselves are to blame for the disgrace.
But we cultivate the ego cult
And love ourselves the most,
Then our self will delight us,
Then we are goddesses in the universe.
HOMER
Yes, I am your nightingale,
Athena, you are God's rose!
APHRODITE
And today also comes the spotless one,
The virgin goddess of virtue,
The well-beloved of thy youth,
The old lady Artemis?
HOMER
She plunged me into darkness,
My heart's blood gushed blood-red,
Death was already reaching for me!
ATHENE
O Aphrodite, star of the sisters,
Let us blaspheme Artemis!
Have you ever seen her image?
She lives shy in the forest and wild.
APHRODITE
I saw her portrait of Apelles,
The pair of eyes a moon-white bright,
But, by the mediator and reconciler,
I am indeed far more beautiful!
Artemis' face is pointed,
Her breast no bouncing twin fawns,
The curly locks dark blond,
Her face pale and not sunlit.
ATHENE
Homer, Aphrodite's ex,
He had no sex then
With Artemis in his youth,
So he praises her as the star of virtue.
HOMER
Athena, my goddess of wisdom,
My ideal, longed-for wife!
For twenty years I have loved thee
And to your service I dedicate my self,
But I have often longed
And moaned with longing,
That I might see thee, beside thee
Lady Artemis in her adornment,
And then you two gracious ones
I would test and compare severely.
APHRODITE
You adore these two?
But I love you, my husband!
(The doorbell rings.)

SCENE IV

(To the previous ones, Artemis enters)

ARTEMIS
Homer, so long unseen
Since our great beautiful youth,
And yet we recognise each other!
And do you still sing your songs today?
HOMER
Let me introduce you to the sisters,
The birds in the nests.
There, the one I've been striving for,
The goddess of love, Aphrodite,
And there the source of many a tear,
Wisdom‘s queen Athena.
APHRODITE
So you are the Artemis?
O, by the eclipse of hell,
Do you also know that I was abandoned
By Homer in paradise,
In all the lusts of our youth,
Because he desired thy virtue?
ARTEMIS
Yes, yes, we were young and pure,
But I never invited him,
He chose me to choose,
But I was prickly as thorns,
He could lisp, slur, fistula,
I was like nettles and thistles,
But Homer knows no No,
So he gave me a lot of grief,
He used to stand outside the balcony
By the chestnut gazebo
And always sang there to the guitar:
O Artemis, I wait, I wait,
I wait till I die
And in the last agony
And even after death
I still love you!
So sang the foolish Homer.
APHRODITE
What are you laughing at, dear Eros?
EROS
Ah, that pointed hooked nose
Of the lady Artemis! I am racing!
And those thin, thin lips,
That always sip black tea!
ARTEMIS
Homer, whence comes this knave,
Yes, all those children in the parlour?
HOMER
I have no children of my own,
But all the Greeks, all the Indians,
All the earthly theatre
I love as a kind-hearted father.
And, Artemis, are you a mother too?
Was ever thy bosom full of butter?
ARTEMIS
What do you know of my breasts?
HOMER
In the bath once I lusted,
You were naked in the bath,
Quite a model for a nude.
ARTEMIS
Who should ever find me naked,
I'll rank him among the blind.
APHRODITE
Why dost thou so modestly adorn thyself,
Wilt thou not seduce a man?
ARTEMIS
Ah, these arrogant men,
Some play the jack-of-all-trades,
The others play idlers
And good-for-nothings and cricket-catchers!
No, I'd rather stay alone,
I'm still a virgin, chaste and pure,
I'm a free woman, a free woman,
My womb is mine alone,
My belly is mine alone!
HOMER
All is nothing but a vain breath!
In age you are still a girl,
Your curly hair is already a silver thread,
You old maid prune!
I saw you once in my dream
And thought you were the Maiden Mary
And the Hagia Sophia!
APOLLO
Come, let us rather play cards!
Here the centaur warriors aim!
ANTEROS
I'll give you Amazons for that,
Also dragon slayers and aeons!
Let me look at your cards!
EROS
I have three Little Mermaids!

SCENE V

(Grove in front of Homer's hut. Artemis and Athena are walking together).

ATHENE
I could stand it no longer
In this musty, dull house,
He never used the broom,
Never cleaned the dust off the books.
ARTEMIS
He was like that even in his youth,
Purity is not his virtue.
ATHENE
What was he like in youth?
Tell me of the lover!
ARTEMIS
He prayed to me as if
I am God! That is too much honour!
I spoke in my white skirt,
I have no desire
For your passion of urges
And your religious love!
ATHENE
Did he leave thee there in peace?
ARTEMIS
When I think of it, I must hate him!
He was camped outside my door,
He stretched out all fours like a beast
And begging like a street dog
He cried: I am sore at heart!
O Saviour, you must heal me!
Come, beloved, let us hurry!
For millions of years we have been
By supernatural aeons
Destined to be lovers!
ATHENE
O, how my soul grimeth!
Then I, poor female, become male,
Inflammable and burning with wrath,
Because the evil breath of his mouth
Said the same to me too!
ARTEMIS
He also preached to thee like priests,
You were made for him alone?
ATHENE
Before the mother conceived him,
We would have gone before God
As husband and wife hand in hand,
United in the land of ideas!
ARTEMIS
There you see all his foolishness!
It is truly God's Wisdom
More faithful than the wise Plato
And than the advocate Cato.
ATHENE
Now these are my dear men.
But I wonder what this means,
That even after death our fool
Will give me the red rose
And in Elysium woo me,
In heaven I would consecrate myself
At last to his thirst of impulses
And quench it with my love!
ARTEMIS
That's what he said to me,
O virgin full of adornment,
I love thee to the hour of death
And swear to thee with a hot mouth,
I love thee after death
As an angel in heaven!
ATHENE
How he in drunken ecstasy
Only always slurring the same phrases!
ARTEMIS
But I angrily said to him,
You gusher! You love too sublimely
Only the heavenly idea!
In your blue eyes
I see the icon of Mary,
The splendour of Hagia Sophia!
But I am from the world of shadows,
I want to marry a shadow!
But you love for ever only
Ideas, ideals, images!
ATHENE
He confessed it to me himself,
When he was in love's bonds,
I never love a woman,
But of the ideal show,
When above a woman I see
The splendour of the celestial idea!
The Queen of Heaven Mary
Alone is my delight of love!
ARTEMIS
He is certainly at the feet
Of Aphrodite, to tell the sweet one
The same nonsense
Of their parallel souls!
ATHENE
How sorry I am for Urania!
ARTEMIS
The poor poet! Ha, ha, ha!

SCENE VI

(Homer and Aphrodite alone in the chamber.)

HOMER
The children are playing beautifully outside!
Aphrodite! Listen, I groan:
If only I were still a child
And my grandmother full of honour
Would take me in her arms again!
APHRODITE
Before Aphrodite be not ashamed
Of the weak moments of sorrow.
See me smiling and nodding graciously!
HOMER
Apollo spoke a poem yesterday.
APHRODITE
Say how my son speaks in verses!
HOMER
(quoting)
From blood to blood the agonies of death
Wildly rooting in the entrails!
APHRODITE
That speaks quite from your heart,
Don't you, man of love‘s pain?
How beautifully you play with the children
And also feel with their grief,
In this tragic theatre
Of the valley of tears a dear father.
You know, my husband Vulcan
Only ever looked at you with envy,
He complained of it to his mother,
The goddess Juno. Do you know what
The goddess Juno said?
I hear Vulcan lament,
Homer is his conqueror,
Homer is the god of the children!
Apollo, Anteros and Eros
Are begotten of Homer,
And Vulcan, the son, the dear,
Thou didst then foist them!
Thus said the goddess Juno. Ha,
Homer, that's what Urania says,
I love you with all my heart
For your faithful love of children!
And for this I will reward thee,
Allow you to join me!
HOMER
What says your spouse,
That fiend, that rat?
APHRODITE
We live in Greece, after all,
Here no god wrote with his hand
On tablets of rock his curse,
I goddess love adultery,
In the Golden Aeon it was,
When I cheated on Vulcan with Mars!
HOMER
Yes, you remember, in our youth,
When we were foolishly free of virtue,
How we in the summer sun,
In the summer sun made love?
APHRODITE
Will you roll on me again
As when by the cliff-rock?
HOMER
That was beautiful too, but I think,
How I once enjoyed you
Sweetly under the flowering pavilion
Of the chestnut tree on the balcony.
APHRODITE
Ah, I attain the illumination,
You mean the beautiful position
Where head and feet are interchanged?
HOMER
O, I am quite intoxicated with lust!
APHRODITE
Now take off my clothes,
We are all alone in the house,
We'll screw according to love's rules
Like married couples of doves!
HOMER
O model for a nude,
How divinely beautiful you are naked,
Thou love full of love's lust,
How majestic thy breasts!
APHRODITE
You will crown me with your song.
The apple thou givest to me, the fair one?
HOMER
You deserve the apple,
For you have served love well
As handmaid of the gods, as hierodule!
The handmaid of the gods my paramour!
Now I serve thee diligently too,
O goddess, my concubine!
(They disappear into the bedroom.)

SCENE VII

(In Homer's living room. The children are playing. Aphrodite is eating fig cake. Artemis and Athena
are discussing. Homer is watching everything).

ARTEMIS
The men think they are
The image of God's I,
First to appear in the world,
That all women serve them.
We shall be quiet and humble
And sweet, tender and gentle,
As ever-soft and still as females
Refresh them with our bodies,
Receptive all the time,
Listening only in silence,
What men's will we hear
And to the word of man's seed
As maids say yes and amen.
ATHENE
But prehistoric man was androgynous!
In my wisdom I say boldly
As once Aristophanes spoke,
That God broke the primeval creature,
That all striving now invokes
Androgyny again,
That women must become male
And men kiss feminine again.
When the feminine becomes masculine
And the masculine becomes feminine,
The primeval man, androgynous hermaphrodite,
Appears again. But this is bitter
For those masculine guys,
Who seek only the woman's pearl
And say: Women, be female,
Be eternally feminine in soul and body,
Be daughters, girls, become mothers.
The guys then hate the hermaphrodite,
Which God the Creator once broke,
They want their females weak
And always kind, always mild
And beautiful as Madonna's image
And always stare hypnotically
At woman's womb highly erotic.
ARTEMIS
All this is patriarchal,
But the beginning of matriarchal
Was female rule in the world.
No Lord God spoke from the firmament,
On earth was the Great Mother,
A paradise of cream and butter!
Priestesses of the Great Mother,
They were virgin queens.
There the housewife mothers did not reign,
The children's worries were bitter,
Giving the children honey to nibble on,
Then they hasten to wash the linen,
Then they wash the children's heads
And clean the pots and pans,
The mothers full of everyday worries
Did not reign on the world's morn,
Rather the feminine nuns,
Full of the spirit of the Virgin Madonna,
Priestesses of the virgin goddess,
Virgin-pure queens.
ATHENE
No fatherly spirit from heaven
Ordered there the world's tumult,
No spirit there created the forms,
God was not spirit and did not give norms
Of patriarchal marriage ethics
And patriarchal poetics,
No, in the beginning no father
Created the world, the Magna Mater
Was Mater, was Materia,
Materia was always there,
Materia in the beginning.
I am a materialist!
Materia gave birth to matter
And will give birth, I hope,
When this world perishes,
Then a new world will be born,
So on and on for eternity.
Time is not linear to the goal,
Leads us to heaven, where we shine,
Time moves in spirals,
And after the patriarchal war
Again appears the mother's victory,
There comes the divine Astraea
As Magna Mater Bona Dea
And women's rule brings peace,
Then paradise is on earth.
ARTEMIS
We virgins but unmanned,
The goddess we have recognised.
ATHENE
Wisdom shows herself recognisable to us,
When we as women become male,
Not sweetly feminine, no, bitter,
Full of strife and anger, strong hermaphrodites!
ARTEMIS
Yes, women should become quarrelsome!
Then comes paradise on earth!

SCENE VIII

(Homer and Aphrodite sit arm in arm on the sopha and whisper. The children suddenly become
suspiciously quiet! Artemis and Athena take their leave.)

ATHENE
It was very nice with you, Homer,
Now do not let your heart be heavy,
Surrender not to love's woes,
Athena must now part from thee.
ARTEMIS
How good it is that we met again,
Now, according to the fates‘ plan
I must go from here. You shall not curse
Nor shall you seek me further!
(Athena and Artemis depart.)
APHRODITE
All at once it is so quiet!
My friend, what would be your will now?
HOMER
Beloved, all we have to do,
That is to kiss us, to kiss us, to kiss us.
Dear wife, in a word:
Come, let's make sports of love!
APHRODITE
By my honoured ass:
I must look after the children first.
HOMER
But I'm beginning to wonder myself:
What are they doing? It smells like smoke here!
ANTEROS
O dear mother, no more chatter!
I, mother, want to tell you something now!
Eros lit a fire!
Only a grown man is allowed to do that.
He was playing with the lighter!
EROS
Anteros, shut up, keep quiet!
HOMER
I think my flat is on fire!
Quickly, much-loved children, run!
APHRODITE
Homer, with might of overcomers
Be thou the saviour of my children!
The fire, of the clattering splash,
I will quench it with water!
(Homer takes Eros in his arms, Anteros by the hand and calls to Apollo, so they rush out. The whole
house is on fire).
EROS
Homer, Homer, it's too late!
Aphrodite is going down!
APOLLO
How hard strikes God the Father's hand!
Alas, Aphrodite is burned!
HOMER
Lord Jesus has saved her
And bedded her in paradise!
There Jesus of Nazareth celebrates
The wedding with the goddess Venus!
EROS
Ah, Aphrodite without blemish,
Has now become our angel!
ANTEROS
What is to become of us children now
In this valley of tears on earth?
HOMER
I will take you to the centaur!
Ye children shall mourn no longer!
See, Chiron is a pedagogue,
Who never bends children by force,
He makes one and another
As pedagogues to Alexanders,
As wise as Aristotle
And as much in love as Socrates
With Alcibiades,
That's what we can read in Plato.
You will live on Atlantis
And above you will hover in blessing
Saint Aphroditissa without blemish,
Advocate and guardian angel,
Forever be Advocata to you
Saint Aphroditissa Immaculata!
EROS
(clasps Homer's neck and weeps)
Ah father of hearts Homer,
You dearest daddy of Eros,
How beautiful was the time with you!
HOMER
We will never see each other again!
How cruel, God, is the loss!
I weep at Aphrodite's breast,
I take comfort in Aphrodite's bosom!
My muses are silent with grief!
All pleasure in existence is gone
Through this dreadful loss!
How shall it go on with me?
APOLLO
Will Aphrodite rise again?
HOMER
God will raise her up, yes,
Blessed Urania!

SCENE IX

(Mountainous area, grove of olive trees, oaks. Above a holm-oak a strange appearance of light.
Homer marvels at the phenomenon of light).

HOMER
The white sheets of a bed
Wears this woman, she's a nice one,
I see no face full of charm
And see no arm at her body...
(Sudden gust of wind rustles in the oaks.)
O God, you rush in this wind!
What a poor human child I am
That you should take care of me, God?
I am but breath in the fireclay!
(Suddenly a young girl comes, she is beautiful, like the model of a Venus painter)
Who are you, beautiful girl?
Where are you from, what town?
HELEN
I am Helen of Sparta,
Am not Mary and not Martha,
I am young Helen,
The niece of Urania!
HOMER
How old? How long is your hair?
HELEN
I count sixteen years in May.
My brown hair reaches
Almost down to my bottom.
HOMER
I want to be a sculptor, by Cupid,
And carve your body out of marble.
I would be a Praxiteles,
Whom Socrates once watched,
How he chiselled Phryne so beautiful,
So aphrodisiac beautiful, the bold one.
Yes, or I would be Apelles,
I would paint a picture, a bright one,
Like Cypris standing on a shell
In her tide of curls tousle.
HELEN
Who are you, are you a painter?
You're an old man, a bald one,
An old man with a fat belly
And stinking of thy mouth's breath.
But I, beautiful as Stella Maris,
I love the fair youth Paris!
HOMER
Whether Stella Matutina or Stella Maris,
O Stella, love only Paris,
I only want to tell you stories.
Otherwise there would only be stories,
If I wanted to love you, child.
You know what people are like.
I'll write an epic poem,
A hymn to your face.
HELEN
Homer, this is too much honour,
It's more than I desire.
I already see the Iliad
And already read the Odyssey.
But show the books, your Veda,
Not to my stern mother Leda!
HOMER
The queen is pious and chaste.
HELEN
She is also furiously jealous,
Especially when a drunken poet
Praises her daughter's eyes
And raves about her daughter's charms
And loveliness - God have mercy! -
Then the air becomes stuffy for Leda,
Then she becomes quarrelsome,
She becomes bitchy!
HOMER
What does the mother Leda say then?
HELEN
Yes, yes, that's how the bad man is,
Crazy for young girls' charms,
The old ones crucify them,
They never love the poor old ones,
Always the girls without wrinkles,
Where breasts are not withered and sagging,
Where girls' breasts are firm and white!
HOMER
I should be quite mistaken,
If not quite heavenly your breasts!
HELEN
But I will not lift the veil!
HOMER
I see the doe's fawns leaping!
HELEN
Very well, you may be my poet,
God alone may know!
HOMER
Primal beauty of the primal divinity, hail!

PART IV

TANNHÄUSER

An Opera

ACT I

SCENE I

(South of France. Grotto with spring. Surrounded by vineyards. In the grotto on a broad red velvet
bed with many cushions Venus and in her arms Tannhäuser. Turtledoves cooing).

VENUS
Where has all the world gone? Gone is the earth!
TANNHÄUSER
And no more as a shepherd I feed my flock!
VENUS
Great as the universe is our loneliness.
TANNHÄUSER
But this loneliness is our togetherness.
VENUS
We lie arm in arm, we two world-distant.
TANNHÄUSER
May all the world talk of fools and madmen.
VENUS
In the universe we are alone, two in the universe.
TANNHÄUSER
In the rose cup the nightingale rests and drinks.
VENUS
I bathe my body in sunlight and moonlight.
TANNHÄUSER
I bathe my spirit in your lips' red wine.
VENUS
Here no one reviles us any more for our lust for heaven.
TANNHÄUSER
How blissfully unconscious I rest at your breasts!
VENUS
The gods do not disturb, here even the muses are silent.
TANNHÄUSER
I drink love's milk from your dove's bosom.
VENUS
Here no philosopher laughs and reviles love's body.
TANNHÄUSER
Man is perfect, perfect is woman.
VENUS
Thoughts are silent, we smile softly blissful.
TANNHÄUSER
So quiet is my mind, yet so cheerful and merry.
VENUS
Love alone is the beatifier.
TANNHÄUSER
I believe that I am already in paradise!
VENUS
And more and more I enjoy your kisses.
TANNHÄUSER
It's Elysium full of drunken pleasures.
VENUS
Love is sweet as milk and honeycomb.
TANNHÄUSER
Your dear light body is all my paradise!
VENUS
Who on earth already live like spirits of heaven...
TANNHÄUSER
Thy bosom is fruitful and full like trumpy vines!
VENUS
In the vineyard we rest, the sun smiles mildly.
TANNHÄUSER
It is Elysium, this blissful place.
VENUS
My dear body is wrapped in nothing but the light of the sun.
TANNHÄUSER
Your face is serenely beautiful, the delight of my life.
VENUS
Look into my eyes for just a moment.
TANNHÄUSER
I see the ocean of love full of happiness.
VENUS
Ah, this bliss will never end in eternity!
TANNHÄUSER
From your eyes blue the light flashes dazzle!
VENUS
My husband and my spouse! My darling and my child!
TANNHÄUSER
Blinded, divinity, I am blinded, blind!
I can no longer fix my eyes on Venus,
Now I must go into the world and suffer, suffer, suffer!
Blinded by the light of divinity, your radiance,
Is dark night around me! I see the crown of thorns!
No, your beauty cannot be carved in marble.
But now I thirst for blows, whips, scourges!
No more may I taste your body's bread.
Come now, martyrdom, come, expiatory death!
VENUS
You go now into the world to satisfy your desire
For torture? But you will return to Venus!
(Tannhäuser throws on a purple cloak and leaves Venus' grotto).

SCENE II

(Medieval Germany, i.e. the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. To ward off the curse of
the Pestratts, flagellants march in a penitential procession through the gothic gutters)

PRIEST
O Lord, we are plagued by death, the Black Death, the plague,
The Roman-German empire is a rat's nest,
Where pestilence is everywhere and evil spirits lurk,
Sickness is to death, God's poor are starving,
We are plagued by famine, we fear the victory
Of the Antichrist who overtakes us with war.
FLAGLANT
Mary, Queen of us wretched and poor,
Give us your mother's heart full of heartfelt mercy!
PRIEST
Sin accuses us, we ourselves are sinners,
To harlots we went and ravished the children!
The Church has almost become a whore of Babylon,
The Pope in Avignon is a guest of sinners.
We who carve an idol from rocky hearts,
We scourge our poor Lord and Saviour again,
With whips we scourge the poor Son of God,
By sacrilegiously taking communion.
The victims of war shriek with shrill voices,
The monks even resemble homosexuals,
We live like pagans and yet we are called Christians
And walk Belial and Beelzebul in the yoke!
FLAGLANT
Mary, Queen of us wretched and poor,
Give us your mother's heart full of heartfelt mercy!
PRIEST
But God's cup is full, now the fountain overflows
Of God's wrath, God pours wine for us in anger,
The bitter yeast yet we lick, drunken revelers,
When God shatters the chalice, he throws the cup to smithereens,
The thunder rumbles loud, God the Father's thundering voice
Deeply frightens the world, God rages in his fury!
FLAGLANT
Mary, Queen of us wretched and poor,
Give us your mother's heart full of heartfelt mercy!
PRIEST
Lord Jesus now rises, in his right hand holds
The judge of the dead now and strong hero of God
The bow of God and the arrows of God's wrath!
His arrow, it is the plague! We have strayed from salvation
And suffer punishment now, when the Lord God takes vengeance,
The Lord's justice in wrath fatally weakens us!
FLAGLANT
Mary, Queen of us wretched and poor,
Give us your mother's heart full of heartfelt mercy!
PRIEST
We atone for our sins and go the way of penance,
We salute Our Lady with reverent greeting,
The most beautiful of all women of the female sex!
Jesus Christ's right hand is still raised in wrath,
But Our Lady holds God's right arm
Back by her prayer full of loving charms!
When Jesus Christ is angry, the Lord is angry with his sheep,
When God the Judge comes to punish the sinful world,
Then Our Lady beseeches for us God's mercy,
The Lord's mercy on all our sins,
Ask pardon for our sins.
And covers Christendom with her mantle of stars.
She alone withholds the Lord's justice
By her womanly grace, the woman's mercy!
FLAGANT
Mary, Queen of us wretched and poor,
Give us your mother's heart full of heartfelt mercy!
PRIEST
When on the Last Day at the Last Judgement
God the Father gravely veils his light face
And looks to the Son of God, whether we have found mercy
With Jesus our Lord, then we shall see his wounds,
Which we ourselves have caused by all our trespasses.
Will Jesus then have patience with our guilt?
But we Orthodox Christians have hope,
For then Our Lady will stand with her breasts bared
And say to the Son: O Jesus, guest of souls,
See this naked breast, on which you have sucked,
Who as Son of Man sucked at the bosom,
Have mercy on the world, confused and crazy,
By my milk, O son, have mercy on the world!
So the Christian man may yet enter heaven.
FLAG LETTERS
Mary, Queen of us wretched and poor,
Give us your motherly heart full of heartfelt mercy!
(Silence.)
TANNHÄUSER
God first created chaos, the shapeless sea,
The universe then gloriously created the Lord God,
God then created nature, God created the apes,
God created the first man, the archetype of all priests,
Then God the Creator made the crown of creation, lo,
Then it was really good when God created woman,
God said, It is very good! And in the haven of heaven
Satisfied, the Lord went to sleep with his Wisdom.

SCENE III
(In a castle in Germany. Two minstrels accept Tannhäuser into their Parnassian order).

FIRST MINSTREL
O the princess, oh! When I first saw
The beautiful maiden, like God's daughter fair,
Seemed to me unsullied and pure as a goddess,
All pure of spirit, like God's own wife!
On her brow saw a sign, without mockery,
I saw the god, shining clear and bright,
The God of love I saw light upon her brow!
I was ashamed: I was in love with a harlot,
The lust of base minxes, the vile lust of the flesh,
I sinned once at a harlot's breast.
But now came the maiden, the spiritually pure, chaste,
I was ashamed of lust, of sensuality in the flesh.
Who will ever be worthy to praise the Virgin?
She is an angel pure, a spotless spirit.
Away with sensuality and concubines,
To serve Urania alone in pure spirit,
Urania alone to sing her praises!
My Plato stands by me, who knows of love,
The celestial alone, the holy and pure
Is praiseworthy and not the earthly, common one.
Spiritualised I will be and become without mockery
By my goddess' favour a young beautiful god
And walk in Elysium, despite the mockers,
The goddess and her god, blissful as the gods!
SECOND MINSTREL
When my heart and mind's eyes beheld
The Christ young and wild, he seemed to me madness,
Magdalene was his mistress, was the pure,
A hetaera, a sinner and an eternal whore!
The whore and the madness, the god and his bride,
So in youth I looked upon Christ.
But one day I saw the princess, behold,
She was the morning star of the rosy dawn,
She was so spotless, a pure heavenly light,
She was the white lady, the beautiful lady pure,
She was so without spot or blemish or flaw,
No longer a human being, but a revealed angel,
Not just any woman - the Eternal She,
An angel who appeared from the star of imagination,
An angel was henceforth to me the fair lady
And angel was henceforth for me the name of God.
TANNHÄUSER
I saw in an image the whore of Babylon,
I saw in existence her, I, God's favourite son,
On a lion rode the wild naked whore,
The goddess of all lust and voluptuousness, yes the pure
Hætaera, manifest was her bare breast,
The lion she rode, the lion was lust,
The flood of hair flowed long on her great breasts,
The epitome of lust, the giver of lust,
She held in her hand the goblet of Cyprus wine,
Spiced with cloves and red with blood,
The wine of whoredom she poured into the cup,
The lusty boys were her drunken revelers,
On seven hills she lay a wild she-wolf,
Bloodthirsty I saw her on her jubilant day
Licking her lips, drunk with the blood
Of the saints of the Lord, whom she in her wantonness
Slaughtered at the altar of idolatry,
The saints of the Lord with a loud cry
Still blessed God before the whore of all whores
And then triumphantly went to God's heaven!
Then in the spirit I beheld the pure maiden,
The nymph of God, the Lamb's virgin bride,
Jerusalem, the maiden, holy and pure,
In white robes and golden glories appeared,
Virgin pure and chaste, in white linen,
With the choir of angels, the harmony of the spheres,
From heaven descended the holy and pure,
Of jasper, jade and many a precious stone,
Sapphire and onyx and lapis lazuli,
Turquoise and malachite adorned the purest one,
With pearls of tears was adorned the virgin's crown,
Of ivory built the throne, she sat in her throne,
In the throne of ivory to see God's lamb,
God Yes and Amen as the Virgin's Bridegroom!
FIRST MINSTREL
Yes, she is the princess! The eternal beauty!
With your minstrelsy you crown the princess!
SECOND MINSTREL
Yes, the princess has revealed as an angel,
To thee the vision of God, the pure maiden tender.
TANNHÄUSER
When ye the princess worship as a woman of women,
Will I see the princess in her womb!
Is she a spirit alone? Does she live in a light body?
Ah, the princess must be a superwoman!

ACT II

SCENE I

(The princess in front of her mirror.)

PRINCESS
All ye minstrels, ye do not love women,
You only want to see ideas in your souls!
The minstrel sings what he saw within,
He looks at his own soul, his anima.
He looks at icons and wonderful cloths
And dreams of muses, fairies. The ladies of his books
Dance around his mind, there he sees ideals
Of beauty's primordial idea in the hall of ideas.
Pandora it is! Athena gave her wisdom
And Aphrodite charm, charming smiles‘ sweetness,
And Hera gave her the arm, the lily-white arm,
And Cybele the breasts! O that God would have mercy!
Pandora shall I be, and the idea of women!
All that a poet wants to see in a woman!
But I am not that, I am not Mary mild
And Aphrodite beautiful, I am no marble image.
But who loves me even in my own nature?
In no love-song have I read so far,
What I myself have felt and how I myself am,
No minstrel knows of my inward sense.
Who then loves me myself? You envious ones, become more yellow!
I love myself alone, I love myself!
Certainly, it flatters me to be the most beautiful of all women,
To be in the song of songs the Sulamit brown,
The Venus of Hesiod, Athena of Homer,
If I am the ideal of Wisdom and of Eros,
If, Magdalena I, adoring before the cross,
I am also Venus, the epitome of allure,
I fairy queen, I sorceress Morgane,
Moon goddess chaste and white, the heavenly Diana,
Heavenly love itself am I, Urania,
The fairest of women, the beautiful Helen,
Helen of Tyre and Helen of Sparta,
Sometimes Magdalene, and sometimes sister Martha,
When adored like Hagia Sophia,
The ideal woman like Our Lady Mary,
I'm flattered, I'm sure. But I know the poet
In Eros‘ flames always in purgatory stands,
He pretends to be so pious and chaste, but he wants to sleep with me,
He only wants to go to the marital port,
Though he be a virgin, though he be celibate.
Lives like an angel's spirit, but stronger is the flesh,
But stronger is the impulse, the sensuality of the senses,
He'd love to hear my lowly love in the grass!
And when now the minstrel and poet preaches
And plays the great spirit, enthusiastically as a prophet
Speaks of the love of God and of the love of one's neighbour,
When he speaks of love, he always mean instincts!
Ah, to love God and one's neighbour, what is that?
That comes all by itself, by Goddess Veritas,
That comes of itself, when I love myself!
Ye minstrels are eager thieves of the heart,
But I will not give my heart to a minstrel,
For I am not half, not half an apple,
That only becomes whole by a man's grace.
No, I am not carved from a man's calf!
I am a part of God, I am a piece of God!
In my own self alone dwells my happiness!
If I do not love myself, how can I love God?
If I do not love myself, yet it is written,
How then shall I love my neighbour as myself?
Though my ego must die, then my True Self lives,
But my True Self is Godhead, made woman!
What am I supposed to do as a woman in your order of men?
I am a piece of God, I am God incarnate!
But you give yourselves that you lose yourselves!
Do you want to give your heart to me,
You want to sink your heart of love deep into my heart,
Let your heart die, that it may rise again
In my lust for you! So the poet laments:
She loves me not, ah, she is murderess and murders
All my life's happiness! Overflowing with lamentation
Then the poet falls ill, into mad delusion,
To suicide his spirit creeps on sick madness' track
And when he then murders himself with the knife,
Then I say to myself: But I'll do better!
Where is a human spirit that understands me deeply,
A spirit that delights me, a friend that walks with me,
A high priest who forgives all my sins,
And a prophet who will not proclaim my absence,
Where a mother who comforts me in my pain,
Where a love, where, that fills my heart?
All this is my self! Yes, to all the afflicted
Say now my True Self: Only the self-loving
In the order of their self are blissful alone!
I remain alone with my Self in solitude!

SCENE II

(The princess in her rose garden. Tannhäuser kneels before her.)

TANNHÄUSER
Je vous salue, Marie! - Princess, my dear!
PRINCESS
Yes, yes, I know, poet: The mightiest of urges!
TANNHÄUSER
You are so beautiful! Omnipotent is your charm!
PRINCESS
You're about to say, poet, I'll crucify you!
TANNHÄUSER
All my life's meaning, my breath, my soul!
PRINCESS
When will you again give me of gold jewellery and perls?
TANNHÄSUER
Worship I feel, I kneel before my God!
PRINCESS
And tomorrow you have only mockery for my folly.
TANNHÄUSER
O Rosa Mystica, I am thy drunken butterfly!
PRINCESS
Yes, because I am young and beautiful. But what then in old age?
TANNHÄUSER
O, my love is all pure, platonically chaste!
PRINCESS
But what if I first tickle your flesh?
TANNHÄUSER
Oh love me, my God, thou God's holy divinity!
PRINCESS
Once the charm is gone, I'll be boring to you.
TANNHÄUSER
Oh angel, love me, I implore you full of shyness!
PRINCESS
The vows of love are not new, after all.
TANNHÄUSER
In Love‘s court you are the judge of my soul!
PRINCESS
Others have already said that, that is stolen, poet!
TANNHÄUSER
Allah himself beseeches thee, thou divine Allath!
PRINCESS
That, after all, poet, is not plagiarism.
TANNHÄUSER
You robbed me of my heart, you queen of thieves!
PRINCESS
Understand this at last, that I do not love you!
I don't love you, I don't love you, I don't love you!
TANNHÄUSER
Princess! Now is lamentation my duty?
In tragic manner I bleed before the rose,
Why is not a woman a flower thornless?
How lovely is the calyx! How prickly is the thorn!
There is no wrath so fierce as the wrath of a wild woman!
Poor Israel with Leah and with Rachel -
There the serpent's tail, and there the scorpion's sting!
I must have asked my God for a delicious fish,
Sole, plaice, butt on my lunch table,
Then my God gives me, I'm not afraid at all,
Then my God will certainly not give me a snake!
I once asked my God as a prayer pious and free,
O dear God, I beseech thee, give me this egg!
God will not give me the scorpion with its poison!
I once wrote a prayer with my nimble pen,
This white steamed bread, God, give me this hot bread!
Do you think my God offered me a pebble there?
What then shall I wail aloud, cry out, lament?
Shall I drive the thorn of the rose into my own heart?
Yes, that's what a poet does! The true nightingale
Pierces her own breast, so sweet is her sound,
That's what Cupid's nightingale can do,
The rose's sharp thorn makes nightingales bleed,
And so the laurel wreath is bestowed on poets,
So hail, serpent's tail, scorpion's sting, hail!
Yes, crucify me on the cross, I shall be damned!
Nay, ill humour makes me mock at women!
Take thee a buffoon for thy husband, and serve him as wife,
I am no troubadour, thou art no Provencal.
Thy body is built like Aphrodite's womb,
Of marble an idol is thy body, fair woman.
Does thy dull look ask me what more I lack?
In thy golem's body a beautiful soul is lacking.
Though a man too readily thinks, This maiden glorious blossoms
Like plum blossom fair, therefore fair is her mind.
But often the man is mistaken. What should all the charms
Of the body to a man with a meagre heart?
Not jewellery and make-up and a charming dress adorn the body,
It is love alone that makes a woman lovely!
But you are such a woman, who knows how to awaken love,
But to hide thine own heart in thy bosom,
That thou art adored, and loved, and forgotten,
That thy heart is stony and that thou art loveless!

SCENE III

(At the Princess's castle. Princess, Tannhäuser and two minstrels. Love‘s court, contest of singers).

PRINCESS
Sing, minstrels, sing to the mightiest of the shoots,
I give my wreath to love's fairest praise!
FIRST MINSTREL
The love I praise is Plato's ideal,
The love of the idea from the hall of ideas.
A man sees a woman, he raises his eyebrows
And smoothes his brow, bewildered he stands in amazement
And looks at the goddess in bright glory,
He looks at Venus herself, I mean, Urania!
Not the concrete woman who is earthly and mortal
And whose beauty is the ravages of time,
He truly loves not her, he loves only the idea.
Idea is not the woman? That is all his woe!
But a fool and an idiot shall not mock at that,
The Platonist wants to make the darling miserable,
Until she has become: Become what I see in you,
Become God's image and heavenly idea!
PRINCESS
You still have to expand the concept of the art of love,
For this Platonist will fail in love!
SECOND MINSTREL
I love not love, the passions' front,
Lady Charity is my cult and my religion.
The high courtly love shall redeem the minstrel
From his own ego, the worst of all evils!
Redeemer alone is she, the High Lady,
The goddess-lady in the high minstrel's vision.
He prays purely and piously to the eternally not seduced,
To chastity in person, to the high untouched one,
Who is as clear as ice, as chaste as ice crystal,
A pure angel's spirit, a breath is all her flesh.
He kneels before her throne, slavishly worshipping her.
She is not Eve to him, lascivious woman from Eden,
She is Madonna to him, is Our Lady,
Her dress is silk white, her mantle sky blue,
At her feet is the moon, around her shines God's sun,
As Our Lady the Muse and Madonna,
In an aura she stands the supreme deity,
In her the loving poet worships the Lord!
PRINCESS
Certainly, the lady will not forgive the lover,
The lady will mock the slave with sharp mockery!
TANNHÄUSER
Urania praises the drunken Platonist,
Madonna deeply worshipped by the lover and the Christian.
But I am a poet, the grandson of Homer,
I praise as my god the god of love, Eros!
Yes, Eros triumphs in my high song,
Priapus triumphs with his man-limb!
What Platonism and what religious love?
Blissful are the lusts of my senses!
I want, I want to return to the bosom of nature,
I seek happiness and pleasure, Epicurus teaches me,
Of the golden aeon's Elysian holy times
I taste again in the feast of sweet sensualities!
Idea and religion? I love the heat more!
Yes, Venus herself taught me her art of love!
Yes, Venus herself taught my man-limb to witness!
I speak mysteries, therefore I will be mystically silent.
PRINCESS
When did Venus teach you and where the work of love?
TANNHÄUSER
When I was sheltered in Venus' mountain!
PRINCESS
By David's great son, by Solomon and Nathan,
Go, serpent Lucifer, go, red dragon Satan!
Go, pilgrim on foot, rend thy foot,
Go, pilgrim barefoot and unshod to repentance,
Leave the vain world's theatre, world's stage,
And sacrifice thyself in penitential atonement,
That thou priapest no more in Venus' hill,
Go thou to Avignon, and beseech the Pope,
That he may forgive thee all trespasses of the flesh
And restore to thee a pure life of the heart
And give thee absolution from the Lord God
And give thee communion with the Lord God
And join the ranks of the consecrated children of God.
Tannhäuser, away from me, you wild, savage sinner!
Epicurean pig you are and hedonist!
Convert, poet, and become a true Christian!
God will carve another man from your block!
To the Pope in Avignon! Go! Must I scourge you first!

ACT III

SCENE I

(A poor peasant girl in her deathbed. The first minstrel sits on the bed and holds the hand of the
peasant girl. Next to them sits an unknown beauty)

PEASANT GIRL
I am dying now, my friend, I am afraid of death!
Say, will it be evening, say, will it be dawn?
MINSTREL
I know only one thing, I feel in my heart
Like needle pricks the sharpest pain.
PEASANT GIRL
Now I die alone and am in great distress,
Tell me of your pain, by my poor death!
MINstrel
Alas, the princess tortures me lovelessly almost to death!
Ah, if only death's cheerful messenger would come to me!
PEASANT GIRL
Hold out a little longer and endure your torment,
Mary stands by you in this valley of tears.
MINSTREL
I went to the priest full of remorse and penance,
Mary I greeted with reverent greeting.
PEASANT GIRL
Did the priest absolve you, though you were little chaste
And still so covetous in thy flesh?
MINSTREL
The priest, full of grace, gave me a consecrated image,
Where Sulamith stands naked in Eden's fair wilderness!
PEASANT GIRL
What does Sulamith look like in that picture?
Like the princess beautiful in front of her beautiful house?
MINSTREL
Yes, I saw the princess like this in the light of the sun
Like this Sulamith, the Paradise Madonna!
PEASANT GIRL
Hold out a little longer, my minstrel sweet,
Soon Mary will invite you to her paradise!
MINSTREL
Oh dear girl-friend mine, if your favour would stay with me!
I thank thee deeply for all thy love!
PEASANT GIRL
Now let us be silent, friend. My angel with me speaks.
I see Christ's body in a sweet light!
(They are silent.)
UNKNOWN BEAUTY
The dear girl-friend is asleep. Look how she smiles sweetly!
MINSTREL
How your eyelash fans beautifully over your eye!
How proudly your nose looks towards Damascus!
Are you the chosen bride of the Moorish king?
Where, but in the open eye, is the soul more naked?
The eagle's nose testifies to a splendid character.
In view of the oval, where have I seen that?
Never before have I seen such flawless skin!
The lips smile sweetly, charming smiles kissingly,
To kiss thy mouth, shall I say it? would be delightful!
How tall is the figure! O like a palm tree!
Thou art as slender as Venus dipped in foam!
Thy long white dress is like the light of the sun,
Almighty is thy charm, thou earthly maiden,
But thy girdle, O God in heaven's firmament,
Thy girdle of loveliness is Venus' magic belt!
UNKNOWN BEAUTY
What an honour, man, do you to me so kindly!
They say of thee, thou art otherwise hostile to all women,
Only the princess fair is deeply adored by thee,
But tender hope thou hast nourished in me now.
MINSTREL
Who art thou, fair lady? I heard a myth,
The god of gods Zeus created with Aphrodite
A woman, I mean, you are that woman, for you
Are Venus' daughter, thou rob'st my soul's rest!
UNKNOWN BEAUTY
Charming flatterer! If I were one of the coquettes,
I would lie down with thee in love's bed!
MINSTREL
But the dead, will she become werewolf, beast,
A revenant, a ghost, perhaps a vampire?
UNKNOWN BEAUTY
Ha, I am a vampire! Ha, my lips are good,
To suck all your life marrow from your bones!
But look, my dear friend, the girlfriend is awake.
PEASANT GIRL
My minstrel sweet, on this last night
Speak not of the vampire, praise not the beast!
Now go with God, my friend! In a moment the priest will come to me,
After my confession I hope for absolution,
That I may receive the Lord's body in communion!
Now go with God, my friend, you strong overcomer,
As a pious godfather you care for my children!

SCENE II
(The minstrel at a wayside cross which he decorates with buttercups. Tannhäuser is coming.)

MINSTREL
Tannhäuser, were you in Avignon with the Pope?
TANNHÄUSER
Tell me first, my friend, whether you priapst in dreams?
I see in every dream at all phases of the moon
Venus blowing the bone flute with her mouth!
MINSTREL
Have you confessed, friend? Did the Son of God
The grace flowed to thee, pardon of absolution?
TANNHÄUSER
Ah, Avignon is beautiful! There the bridges swing,
The girls dance beautifully to blissful delight,
How the hair flutters, how the skirt wriggles there!
In the garden they made the goat a gardener there!
The Pope of Avignon in his pious delusion
Is himself a poet and a great erotomaniac!
MINSTREL
Did you see the rows of cardinals there,
The priests there united, and didst thou see in that place
The dear boys too, the beautiful altar boys,
So beautifully decked out by their pious aunts?
TANNHÄUSER
The incense has mostly intoxicated me like narcotics!
I also listened to the chanting and the Latin.
I also heard the Pope in the Holy Saturday sermon.
MINSTREL
And did you rid yourself of your guilt of the flesh?
TANNHÄUSER
I knocked on the Pope's door and was already at his door,
He said, My son, I have no time for you today,
Come again tomorrow, son, and sigh your moist
Self-revelation, son, of carnal lusts confession.
MINSTREL
So you came back from the Pope in Avignon
And did not confess, you Venus' son of a bitch?
TANNHÄUSER
I was patient after all. The high priest
Will deliver me from the gloom of my soul.
I waited for a day and a week.
It was the white Sunday after Easter, when into the yoke
Of penance I surrendered, with the hot groaning
To reconcile myself mercifully with the dear God!
MINSTREL
So you went to confession to the Pope?
TANNHÄUSER
Tell me, my dear friend, if you priapst in your dreams!
Then tell me, my friend, must one then also dream
The wet temptations in the Mother Church?
MINSTREL
When she thrusts her breath into the bone flute,
When Venus with her mouth blows the flute of jubilation?
TANNHÄUSER
I said to the Pope, how Venus flutes divinely!
The old man in the white hair, I think he blushed.
MINSTREL
Did the Pontifex give his absolution?
TANNHÄUSER
He called idolatry the cult of the goddess of sex!
To absolve me from the pagan goddess Venus
He had authority not from Jesus of Nazareth.
When God performs a miracle, the Pope's staff blossoms,
Only then can he pardon that I am again the member
Of Christ's body. I who have sinned
Must wait until the tip of his staff sprouts!
MINSTREL
By Aphrodite's and Bacchus' son Priap!
Did the blossoming blossom of the Holy Father's staff sprout?
TANNHÄUSER
As often as the swan swung in great church bells,
The pontiff's staff remained dry without sap!
MINSTREL
Perhaps a miracle of God will happen soon after all!
TANNHÄUSER
But I want to go back to Venus' dense forest,
To nature's bosom, to Venus' moist grotto,
That I may live the life of a young god!
MINSTREL
My friend, I include you in my prayer for the night,
That God's grace may yet make a miracle for thee.
TANNHÄSUER
When Jesus shows mercy with heartfelt compassion,
Then I'll be blissfully in Aphrodite's arms!
And the Son of God absolves me of all sins,
Then I will lie drunk in Aphrodite's womb!
(Tannhäuser wanders on. The minstrel kneels before the crucifix by the wayside).

SCENE III

(Mount of Venus. The damp Venus Grotto hidden under dense bushes. Tannhäuser stands in front of
the mount of Venus, in his right hand the pilgrim's staff, at its tip a shell. Above the mount of Venus
appears the heavenly Venus. She wears a long sea-foam white silk dress and a sea-blue cloak over
it. Her long golden curls veil her figure).

TANNHÄUSER
O Goddess Venus, I come from the German Empire,
The German empire is today, ah, quite like a corpse!
The Grim Reaper walks around, the bony skeleton,
He lures Germany, the woman, to her deathbed!
I was in Austria, I also saw the Emperor,
Who already lost the throne, he now prays as a sage.
I was at Lake Zurich, where Grandmama Nature
Scatters inventions on spring‘s soft grass,
Where friends bathe naked, where the naked gladly bathe
And then sing odes in the ancient rhythms.
Yes, nature is beautiful, the mother, in Switzerland!
Freedom I saw there in its beauty charm!
I was in the north of French Brittany,
I also took part in the war, the war in Champagne.
I drank champagne there and large quantities of sparkling wine.
I also said a prayer at midday, the sext.
I also drank grape juice in front of Our Lady's Dome,
Saw the gypsy woman with her bridegroom.
How beautiful is the city of Lutetia-Paris,
The city of love's desire, lust's paradise!
I saw the ark there, titans and giants,
I saw the ivy tower and stone satellites,
Saw a beautiful woman, a black net her stocking,
I saw the arch too, celebrating triumph,
Champs-Elyssée I saw, the fields of Elysium,
Where shadows walk in garden paradises.
Jardin du Luxembourg! I saw the female panther,
Caged in a cage, her cat's body black as velvet!
Flamingos I saw there on the water's clear waves
And beautiful and slender the leaping gazelles.
The heliotrope, the phlox I saw blooming in the garden,
Sycamore trees I saw wide, the crown of life green.
I looked up to the sky in Paris:
Alas, the Parisian died at the Hotel de Dieu!
I saw Lavinia, Aeneas Pius, Turnus,
I saw the wedding ring of the divine Saturnus,
The lyre and the swan, the eagle too. And ah,
I drank the red blood of Bacchus of Bordeaux!
(The heavenly Venus beams all over her face. She smiles her most enchanting smile and spreads out
her arms in a warm welcome).
VENUS
O my beloved you! A hearty welcome!
At last you have come back to me!
My heart is open to you like a red rose,
I give you my body like sweet white bread!
I delight in you, beloved of your goddess,
I delight in you, for I am your wife!
I delight in you, I delight in you!
Look! Venus reveals her bare breast to you!
(Venus opens her white dress and shows Tannhäuser her immaculate virgin mother's breast. The
breast is without a birthmark and of perfect form and youthful firmness, at the same time of
maternal fullness).
TANNHÄUSER
Words fail me, the poet must fall silent!
What is logic to me, the theologians' humming?
I can only sing love's high song!
O Venus, more beautiful art thou than Sulamith!
Lady beauty thou art, so true as lives Jesus,
The beauty of God you, you goddess of beauty Venus!
VENUS
Tannhäuser, now receive from your dear wife
The name of honour that I trust to you out of kindness,
Tannhäuser henceforth is called, by the ring of Solomon,
Venus' husband, you are now called Adonis!
TANNHÄUSER
I am not worthy, O Venus, of such a favour!
Tannhäuser I am but a poet in the cult of love.
VENUS
No false shyness! He who may love Venus,
He may call himself Adonis with full rights.
I, your Venus, accept you as my Adonis!
Adonis, paramour and lover, you my husband!
I am thy bride, chaste and coquette,
I am thy concubine in the sultry bed of lust!
TANNHÄUSER
O dearest wife, you are so gracious, mild and sweet!
Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime, o mon amour Vénus!

PART V

THE BEAUTIFUL LOVE

APHRODITE IN HOMER

When Paris stood on Mount Ida,

Three goddesses appeared to him from heaven.
Which of them was the most beautiful goddess?
The goddesses of heaven asked him.
Then he saw Hera with the arms of lilies,
Who promised him dominion over the world.
Athena he saw with owl's eyes,
Arrayed from her father's brow,
Who promised him victory in all wars.
Then he saw Aphrodite standing before him
And she dropped all her garments
And stood bare-breasted, naked before him
And she gladly promised the shepherd Paris
The beautiful Helen, the most beautiful woman
Of Hellas, she, the wife of Menelaus.
And Paris said: Aphrodite is
The fairest goddess of all goddesses!
So Paris stole Helen for himself
And so began the great war for Troy.

But in the war for Troy Diomedes

With an arrow wounded Aphrodite.
The goddess bled, the goddess wept
And hurried weeping from the field of battle
And ascended the sacred Olympus
And wept in the arms of her mother
Dione, who bandaged the wounded goddess.
But Zeus' father said to Aphrodite:
O lover of laughter, the work of war
Is not your work! The work of the marriage bed
Be thine alone, the act of procreation,
The act of sexual union
And all the delights of conjugal love,
That is your domain, O Aphrodite!

The goddess Aphrodite was popular in Troy,

Popular, because once she has Anchises
Met on Mount Ida, where
The goddess attended the man Anchises
And conceived and gave birth to Aeneas,
Gave birth to Aeneas, the son of the goddess.
Aeneas was a prince in Troy, was the son
Of the goddess, he was also called Pius,
Because he so devoutly trusted Aphrodite.
All this I know about Aphrodite
From the blind seer-poet, from Homer.

APHRODITE IN HESIOD AND HOMER

But Hesiod reports that the father,

The father Uranos in his heaven
Was emasculated by his own son Cronos,
Who with a sickle cut off the limb,
The father's limb, and the father's man-limb
Fell into the Mediterranean, which foamed up.
And Aphrodite was born of foam,
Therefore the goddess is also called the Foamborn.
But Aphrodite is also called the joy of genitals
And lover of laughter. Aphrodite born of foam,
Aphrodite emerged from
The Mediterranean Sea and floated on a shell
Past Knidos, goddess Knidia,
To Cytheraea, O Cythere,
The divine Cythere came at last
To Cyprus, therefore she is called Cypris,
To Paphos she came, goddess Paphia,
And when at Petra tou Romiou the goddess
Entered the land, roses sprang up
And oleander blossomed on the island.

But Homer reports in the Hymn,

That Aphrodite ascended Olympus,
The Charites or Graces
Clothed the goddess with garments,
They adorned her with gold and precious stones
And crowned her with a golden crown.
The Charites led Aphrodite
To Olympus in the castle of the gods.
The gods of Olympus were all amazed,
That such a beautiful goddess had come
To Olympus. Every god wished
That Aphrodite might be his girlfriend.

But the goddess Aphrodite was married

Alone to the limping Vulcan.
Homer calls the goddess Aphrodite
As wife of Vulcan the goddess Charis.
But the goddess Aphrodite's girdle,
Her enchanting girdle of loveliness also
Is called Charis, namely loveliness, charm and magic.
But Ares broke the marriage with the goddess
And lay with Aphrodite in the bed.
Apollo saw it, told it to Vulcan.
The husband surrounded the adulterers
With a golden net. The gods came
And laughed an Olympian laughter.
But Aphrodite went to Paphos, and there
She took a bath and emerged again
As a virgin of chaste glances, delighted with sex.

APHRODITE BY SAPPHO

But of Sappho it may be said that

Of all the gods of Greece alone
The goddess Aphrodite was her idol.
Inspired by Aphrodite, Sappho sang
The tenderest and most beautiful love songs.
So beautiful was Sappho's love song that Plato
Said, There are nine muses, but the tenth
Is Sappho. Sappho served Aphrodite,
By praising love and praising beauty,
Loving the girls and loving beauty,
The beauty of nature and the beauty of girls.
So the goddess Aphrodite seems here
Embodiment of love and beauty,
Love and beauty personified,
Who inspired her pious daughter
To gaze with loving eyes
On beautiful girls, her much-loved ones,
To love her much-loved brother too,
Her own mother and daughter
And last of all to die for love
For Phaon, who spurned her love.
But Sappho also passes on prayers
And calls the goddess Aphrodite once
The daughter of God in the golden throne
And sorceress, she bids her come
In her chariot drawn by the finches,
Like turtledoves beating their wings.
For Sappho loves a beautiful human child
And is not loved back by it.
So Sappho beseeches her goddess of love,
In the beloved human child
To awaken love for Sappho too.
And the goddess Aphrodite speaks to Sappho,
If my messenger be the fair Peitho,
The sweet persuader of love,
Then say, whom shall Peitho persuade?
Though yet spurned the man thou lovest,
Spurns what thou giv'st him, but he will soon
Give thee gifts, and spurned
So bitterly thy honeyed love,
He will soon love thee with hot fervour!
And Sappho beseeches goddess Aphrodite,
Stand by me in battle, my lady!

So it seems that the artistic Sappho

Not loved many gods of Greece,
Loved but one deity all alone,
Loved only the goddess Aphrodite.

LOVE IN EMPEDOCLES

Empédoclés (perhaps also Émpedócles)

Describes in his Philosopher's Song
The good old time, when all men
Served only one divinity, namely that
Beloved Goddess Cypris. Goddess of love
Was Aphrodite, goddess of all men.
Men served her with prayers of praise
And supplications and they offered sacrifices,
But they no men sacrificed to her,
They did not slaughter children,
Yea, not even the beasts did they sacrifice unto her,
Only oil and flowers did they offer
To Cypris, the one great goddess of love.
There was no war on earth,
There was peace among the children of men,
Because all the children were of one mother.

Empédoclés (perhaps also Émpedócles)

Saw in love a great power
That holds the elements together.
In the cosmos or universe works
The power of love that binds all
The elements and the energies.
The opposing force of strife and enmity
Is that power which divides all things.
What only the power of love unites,
That the opposing force of enmity separates again.
Love and enmity, these two,
Are the polar forces of this cosmos,
Uniting and separating they work.

Of what love did the philosopher speak?

Was he speaking of Eros as the primordial force of the cosmos?
The love that the philosopher recognised,
It was the love of pure friendship,
It was philia, the love of friendship.
For Eros lives from libidinal desires,
From thirst for sexual union,
From hunger and desire and passion.
But the love of friendship is of the spirit,
The love of friendship is purely spiritual,
Far above animal desire
The purely human form of love. This
Purely spiritual, humane love of friendship
Is the elemental force that binds the universe.
What holds the world together in its innermost being?
Pure love, which is friendship!

PANDEMOS AND URANIA IN PLATO

The great Plato, my beloved Plato,

Two Aphrodites he knew. One
Of the two was Pandemos Aphrodite,
The great goddess of the common people.
Pandemos Aphrodite was the goddess
Of sexual union and lust.
The man unites with his wife
For the procreation of children and unites
With his slave for the satisfaction of lust
And then goes to the houses of the hetaeras,
To refine his pleasures still further.
And when he is afflicted with the most wicked lust,
He wants to relieve himself of lust,
He goes to the whores in the harbour.
Pandemos Aphrodite was the goddess
Of the satisfaction of sexual urges.
In her temple served temple whores.
And to sleep with a temple whore,
Was service to Pandemos Aphrodite.
He who unites himself with the temple whore,
Slept with the great goddess Aphrodite.
But Plato's other Aphrodite,
That was Urania, the goddess of heaven.
Urania, the goddess of pure love,
The goddess of pure spiritual love,
She was honoured by pure boyish love,
Appropriate to the philosopher
Who does not seek sexual union
In the flesh, but rather admire only
Beauty with eyes and ears.
The boy, when he is fourteen years old,
He is beautiful to the eyes and ears.
And in the philosopher who loves him,
Purely spiritual and platonic love awakens
The longing for the ideal of beauty.
What Diotima told Socrates,
Eros' stairway to heaven, is the love
Of the philosopher who loves beauty,
Beauty of the body, then beauty of the soul,
Virtue then, and then the Supreme Good.
The Supreme Good is the idea of beauty.
The Queen of Heaven Urania
Is the idea of beauty. Aphrodite
Urania is herself the Supreme Good.

THE KNIDIA OF PRAXITELES

Is to be said of Aristotle,
That this philosopher was also a pedagogue,
The educator of Alexander
The Great (when he was still the Little One).
And Aristotle was truly wise,
But when the hetaera Phryne came,
Aristotle crawled on all fours
And Phryne rode on the sage's back.

The same Phryne was also the model,

That Praxiteles chose as a model
For a statue of Aphrodite.
The statue of Aphrodite was
The artistically transfigured Phryne, naked,
So lovely and erotic that only
The citizens of the island of Knidos
Wanted to receive her on the island. There
They built a temple for the goddess,
The goddess Aphrodite Knidia.

The goddess Aphrodite came from Paphos

On Cyprus to the island of Knidos, saw
The statue of the naked Knidia
And asked softly with an enchanting smile,
When did Praxiteles see me naked?
The goddess Knidia was exceedingly
Erotic and seductive, full of charm.
A devout servant of this goddess of love
Stayed one night in her sanctuary.
The priests closed all the doors in the evening.
In the morning the priests opened again
And found on the naked marble goddess
The pious man's semen stains, for he had been
Aroused by the erotic structure,
At night he masturbated before his goddess.

And Phryne said to Praxiteles,

Since thou hast fashioned me fair as Knidia,
Phryne is worshipped by the Greeks.
And therefore said the church father Clemens
Of Alexandria: Ye Greeks worship
Hetaerae, ye fall down worshipping whores!
Are you not ashamed of yourselves, ye sinners?

THE HETAERA PHRYNE AS THE INCARNATION OF APHRODITE

What more to say of the beautiful Phryne:

The Eleusinian Mystery,
And all the consecrated ones
Went to the sea for the purity bath,
Then Phryne emerged from the sea,
There were seen her naked beautiful breasts,
She shook her hair and wringed it out,
Then all the initiated Greeks said,
I looked, and behold, what I saw was Phryne,
No, Aphrodite Anadyomene,
Who just emerged from the Mediterranean!

But lawyers accused Phryne

And Phryne stood before the court of justice,
Her lawyer was very eloquent, but
Greek justice was determined
To condemn the beautiful woman to death,
Because she would proclaim new gods.
The lawyer defended the beautiful woman,
But justice remained hard-heartedly deaf.
Then Phryne grasped her shoulders
And from her shoulders slipped her light dress,
Bare-chested stood the fair Phryne.
The judge and the jury were astonished,
They saw not Phryne's breasts alone,
No, Phryne was Venus in the flesh!

O breasts of Aphrodite, save me!

O breasts of Aphrodite, comfort me!
O breasts of Aphrodite, stand by me!
O breasts of Aphrodite, do a miracle!
O breasts of Aphrodite, set me free!
O breasts of Aphrodite, Advocata!
O breasts of Aphrodite, send succour!
O breasts of Aphrodite, be just!
O breasts of Aphrodite, be sucked!
O breasts of Aphrodite, let yourselves be kissed!
O breasts of Aphrodite, let me live!
O breasts of Aphrodite, save the dead!
O breasts of Aphrodite, full of beauty!
O breasts of Aphrodite, full of love!
O breasts of Aphrodite, wonderful!
O breasts of Aphrodite, my mammas!
O breasts of Aphrodite, healing breasts!
O breasts of Aphrodite, twin fawns!
O breasts of Aphrodite, have mercy!
O breasts of Aphrodite, give milk of comfort!
O breasts of Aphrodite, drip red wine!
O breasts of Aphrodite, worship!
Beloved Aphrodite, worship!

THE WHORES OF CORINTH AND THE AGAPE

In the harbour of Corinth, the great city,

A huge brothel of Aphrodite
Was there and a great multitude of harlots.
From all the lands arrived
The captains and sailors all
And they wanted whores in the Corinthian harbour.

When Paul was in the Areopagus

Of the wise city of Athens, there he spoke with
The disciples of Epicurus, who
Made hedonism their philosophy of life,
And with the Stoics who sought virtue,
And when he spoke of the resurrection
Of the flesh, when he spoke of Jesus Christ
And his resurrection, they said,
A grain-picker proclaims new gods!
And they mocked Paul the apostle.
Only Dionysius, the disciple of Plato,
Converted to Jesus Christ and
The Anastasis or resurrection.

When Paul came to the port of Corinth

And preached of God's great love,
Of God's divine agape, which
Alone abides for all eternity,
The harlots of Corinth were converted
And became disciples of Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ had already said
To chief priests and to scribes,
The harlots will go to heaven sooner
Than you! For the harlots turned back,
But you crucified the Wisdom of God!

Thus was this vast brothel

Of the goddess Aphrodite, mistress of all whores.
Became a church of God.
And the apostle Paul sang the song
Of love, sang the song of love,
He sang it for the whores of Corinth,
Now only faith and hope remain
And love, but love alone abides
Eternally, the divine agape,
She reigns from eternity to eternity!

PLATO AND THE FRIEND OF BEAUTY

And Plato writes in the ideal state

That people go to Dionysia,
To Dionysia on green land,
To Dionysia in a white city,
There people watch plays,
They delight in charming actors
And splendid actresses, their beauty,
Worship Terpsichore, their dances,
Lascivious dancers, like serpents,
Dancing the dance of the veil,
They're delighted with the flute-players
And guitar players, singers,
They love that beauty, that beauty,
They love this boy, that boy.
But if one speaks of the idea of beauty
As a being, as an entity
In the spirit of the Godhead, they shake their heads
And consider this a dream and a fantasy.
They do not love wisdom, not truth,
They do not know the Eternal Being,
They have opinions and mean this
And that, today this and tomorrow that.
But such people are not philosophers,
Such people are called philodoxa,
Friends of appearances, friends of opinions.

But now the philosopher sees much deeper,

In all the beauty he sees on earth,
He recognises the one source of beauty.
For all these beautiful beings are beautiful,
Only because they share in beauty.
Beauty in and for itself, the idea
Of beauty is for such a philosopher
Pure beauty, ideal beauty.
And the idea of beauty is a light,
Different beautiful beings are but shadows.
Perfectly beautiful is beauty alone,
Which exists as the idea of beauty
In the spirit of the Godhead. This beauty loves
The philosopher. It is his beloved.
Thus he does not love the opinions of men,
No, truth he loves and in truth he recognises
The heavenly idea in the spirit of the Godhead
And in truth he also recognises the Godhead
As the Idea of Ideas, as
The source of all truth, goodness, beauty,
As One, Eternal, Primordial Deity.

THE IDEA OF BEAUTY IN THE DIVINE SPIRIT

The Godhead is only One, it is Theos,

Not Zeus, who was born of a woman,
Not Cronos, that son of Mother Earth,
Not Uranos, who was cast down from heaven,
No, Godhead Theos is from eternity,
One God is Theos, one in pure simplicity,
Alone and only in the God-Nature.

Whether Theos now recognised in his knowledge

The diversity of the primordial ideas,
Whether Theos willed in his will
The diversity of the primordial ideas,
That I, a small child, dare not decide,
But I think the will and the knowledge
Are one and united in the one Godhead.

With regard to the diversity

Of beings and things in creation
In the one spirit of the one Godhead
Primordial images of all that exists, ideas,
In the one Spirit the multiplicity of ideas.

Human knowledge seeks truth,

The striving of every man seeks the good,
Beauty is the good in disguise.

When Plato and Aristotle

Argued whether the celestial ideas
As spiritual beings are entities
With their own existence in pure being,
Whether the ideas are not entities,
But rather only forms in things,
So we think that the heavenly ideas.
Are entities in the spirit of God
And have being from the Eternal Being.

Some say that the ideas are

Real beings in the spirit of God,
And these people are called realists.
The others say that the ideas are
Only human concepts, are only
Abstract word formations, derived
From the concrete things in creation,
And these people are called nominalists.
This is how we think as faithful disciples of Plato,
The heavenly ideas are real
And exist before human concepts.
We are Platonists and realists.

MARY APHRODITISSA OF CYPRUS

In Cyprus, near Marion, the place,

Once called Old Paphos, the sanctuary
Of Aphrodite, stands a small church,
The house is dedicated to the Mother of God,
Panagia Mary Aphroditissa
The Mother of God is called there in the church.

At the end of her life Mary,

Panagia Mary Aphroditissa,
Went with body and soul into the kingdom of heaven
To Jesus. The Apostles
Stood by her empty tomb and
Watched her ascension, but Thomas
Was a doubter, doubting Our Lady's
Transfiguration, Mary's Ascension.
Then Mary from heaven
Lowered her chastity belt into Thomas' hands,
This as a sign that she truly went
To heaven with soul and body.
And Thomas took the belt of the Madonna
And carried it to the holy Olympos
And brought it as a relic to the monastery,
Which was perched high on Mount Olympos,
The monastery was dedicated to the cross of Christ.

But in the time of the iconoclasts

Cypriots once sailed on the Mediterranean,
The fishermen saw on the Mediterranean
An image of the Madonna walking upright,
Panagia Mary Aphroditissa
In her holy icon strode
On the foam of the Mediterranean, upright, beautiful.
The fishermen brought the icon
Of Panagia Mary Aphroditissa
Ashore and built her a place of worship
And called this holy icon
Madonna with the golden pomegranate.

Panagia Mary Aphroditissa,

Unite Cyprus in the name of Christ,
Panagia Mary Aphroditissa,
Stand by Greece in its poverty,
Panagia Mary Aphroditissa,
Convert Turkey to Jesus Christ,
Panagia Mary Aphroditissa,
Convert the Middle East to the Messiah,
Panagia Maria Aphroditissa,
Let all Christians live by Eucharis,
Panagia Mary Aphroditissa,
You are the beauty that saves us all!

THE MOTHER OF BEAUTIFUL LOVE

O Mother of Beautiful Love, O Mary,

O Mater amatoris, O Mary,
I once saw the icon
Of the Mother of Beautiful Love: white face
And black eyes, fiery black eyes,
And long black hair, like black silk,
A black veil was on your head,
You were clothed in a long black dress.
Your face was of silent melancholy.
In the Ecclesia Catholica
The celibate priest worshipped you
And said that spiritually gifted women
Greatly venerate the Mother of Beautiful Love.
However, the evangelical pastor
Did not value your painting at all.

Why are you the Mother of Beautiful Love?

Because your beloved little baby Jesus
Is all love, all pure beautiful love.
And that is why the Mother of Beautiful Love spoke,
My beloved Son is nothing but Love!

And tonight I dreamed of the child

Of the Mother of Beautiful Love. In the church
The Lord preached charismatically,
The candlelight illuminated the church,
The devil dared not to enter the church,
For up above the open window stood
The blonde child Jesus, four years old,
The halo framed his head.
O Mother of Beautiful Love, all children,
You lead them to the little baby Jesus!
O Mother of Beautiful Love, in the mothers
Protect the unborn in the womb!
O Mother of Beautiful Love, to orphans
Be a mother from heaven!
O Mother of Beautiful Love, all men,
Let them be pious again like little boys!
O Mother of Beautiful Love, all mothers
Entrust your child Jesus to love!
O Mother of Beautiful Love, to all the dead
Show your blessed fruit of thy womb!
O dear little blonde boy Jesus,
Do not leave me, beloved Child Jesus!

THE QUEEN OF LOVE

Mary, Queen of Love, why

Are you so beautiful? In this sparkling
And glittering, in this light of heaven
Are you of supernatural beauty!
Then the Queen of Love spoke thus,
I am so beautiful, my darling, because I love!
And if you want to be beautiful, love too!
There is no man on earth
Who would not like to be beautiful. So you must love!
God is love, and I love you,
I love you with a burning
And boundless love most especially!
You know that I love you, yes, you know that,
So love the people with that love too,
With that love with which I love you.
Consecrate yourselves to love,
But not to human infatuation, no,
Consecrate yourselves to the love of God. God is love,
My beloved Son is nothing but Love.
The tenderness of the little boy Jesus
Will always be with you. I love you!

O Queen of Love, you are indeed

Queen of heaven and earth,
Victorious Queen of the whole world,
Lady of all nations, Mother of all peoples,
We live here in the culture of death
In a dictatorship of relativism,
But we long for a springtime of humanity
And also the springtime of a young Church,
The civilisation of love
We want to build in the world. Europe should
Open her hesart again for the dear God,
And Africa and South America
Shall send priests throughout the world,
And North America and England too
Shall find again to the Mother of God,
And India shall send missionaries
And China we consecrate to the Queen
And Russia to your Immaculate Heart.
O Queen of Love, as in heaven
Beautiful love shall reign on earth.
But the world is spiritless and is loveless
As in the evil times before the Flood.
O Queen of Love, that your kingdom
On earth may come, we pray daily
The rosary of the Queen of Love.

TOTA PULCHRA PERFECTISSIMA

In this glittering and sparkling

And sweet sounding celestial light
Mary is so indescribably beautiful,
That no painting, no statue
Can show us the beauty of the Madonna.

The tota pulchra perfectissima,

The most perfect beauty is Mary.
In the Song of Solomon it says,
Yes, you are beautiful, O my girlfriend, beautiful,
No blemish is there on thee, beloved girlfriend!

And Paul leads the Church to the Lord,

The bride of the Lord, who is without wrinkle,
Who is without spot and without wrinkle,
Mary is icon of this Church.

The immaculate conception Mary

Is a beautiful woman after God's own heart,
No blemish of sin, no wrinkle
And no stain has the beautiful woman
And no wrinkles of corruption,
She is so completely the woman after God's heart,
Quite beautiful, quite undistorted by any sin.

In spirit she knows God's truth completely,

In aspiration she strives for God's goodness,
Beauty is a radiance of order, clarity
And purity, and Mary is orderly,
Loving the Lord, the Most High.
With all her heart and with all her strength
And loves her neighbour as herself.

Beauty, I say, is a splendour of order,

Mary's soul was all pure order,
Not disordered concupiscence
Was in Mary as in Eve's daughters,
Only total surrender to the love of God
And total devotion to the heart of man
Was unselfish in Mary's pure soul.

And because she is so loving and kind,

Because she knows the truth and is holy
And free from all selfishness, free
From all diabolical powers,
Because she is the pure image of God,
Therefore Mary is perfectly beautiful,
The tota pulchra perfectissima.

MIRROR OF DIVINE BEAUTY

The immaculate mirror of God's beauty

Is Our Lady, perfectly beautiful,
Crystal clear, transparent to God's beauty,
For God's goodness and for God's truth.

A seer saw Mary in heaven,

Her dress was all light and transparent,
Her body was pure as transparent jade,
She was all transparent to God's light,
The beautiful light of the Lord's glory.

Mary is the transparent vase,

Of flawless crystalline transparency,
And in the crystalline vase shines
The white lily of God's beauty.

Mary is the golden house, the temple,

The Beautiful Door of Solomon's Temple,
The Ark of the Covenant for the Word of God,
The throne of Wisdom, the dwelling place of Wisdom,
Mary, undefiled by all sin,
Is the pure cup of the devotion of the Godhead,
In this chalice is the Blood of the Lord,
Mary is the vessel and dwelling place of God.

O mirror of justice, Mary,

O mirror of all virtues, Mary,
Thy body was governed by the measure of chastity,
Thy heart was regulated by courage and strength,
Thy spirit enlightened by the Wisdom of God,
You had hope even at the tomb of Christ,
You are the blessed one because you believed
The word of God which the angel spoke,
And thy love endureth for ever,
Love for the Lord and all men,
Motherly love for the Son of God,
Motherly love for the children of men,
Thus thou art the mirror of righteousness.

The Christ is the form of forms,

The archetype of all human souls, therefore
Every soul is Christian by nature.
Mary, however, is the forma dei,
Form of God, in Mary as the Form
Was formatted the form of forms, Christ,
In Mary flesh-formed divinity.
And this form of God, Mary, is
All spotless, all transparent to God,
The immaculate mirror of God's beauty.

DIONYSIUS AND THE PRIMORDIAL BEAUTY

O Dionysius, I thought the woman,

With whom I fell in love, was truly beautiful.
So glorious was her long black hair,
So beautifully swollen her soft lips,
So beautifully arched and glowing her cheeks,
Eyes flashing blue like evening stars,
Her breasts fair and bouncing, on her breast
A mark of beauty like the corn of Eden,
Her loins splendid and her girdle mighty,
The bare feet beautifully painted with henna.

O Dionysius, my friend however

Said, I will not turn round after the woman,
When I meet her in the street...
And sometimes the woman did not seem beautiful to me either,
Her breasts too limp and already withered,
The eyes too small, so narrow slits,
The nose a big eagle's nose,
The pelvis too wide, and also the buttocks,
Her gait the sway of a drunken ship.
Though she seemed beautiful in her youth, lovely,
Charming and sweet and most erotic,
But later she had grown too fat,
Her mouth was full of bitter quarrels,
To demons she consecrated her piety.

O Dionysius, where is beauty,

Who is ever young and ever fair and lovely,
With ideal breasts, firm and round,
With hair that never turns grey,
With eyes that always shine with love,
With lips ever full of the word of God,
With a body slender as a palm tree,
With legs as slender and long as marble pillars,
With feet as beautiful as golden pedestals.
Where is the beauty that I find beautiful
In my youth and in my old age too,
Where is the beauty that I find beautiful
In all the limbs of her beautiful body,
Where is the beauty that I find beautiful,
Which my friends also celebrate with praise,
Where is the beauty that I find beautiful,
That I still love in eternity?

And Dionysius Areopagitos

Said, This beauty is the Godhead alone,
Primal beauty is the eternal primal divinity,
The eternally beautiful source of all beauty,
Primal beauty thou seest in eternity,
Primal beauty you love in paradise!

LADY MINNE ACCORDING TO HEINRICH FRAUENLOB

From Heinrich Frauenlob I read the praise

Of the Minne. But who are you, Lady Minne?

In ancient times you were for the Greeks

And Romans the beloved goddess Venus,
Queen of love and beauty,
The soul of nature, the fertility
Of creation and the green power of God.
Lady Minne, only the most beautiful of all beauties
Has been able to depict your beauty,
In statues and in paintings
The ancients saw your wonderful beauty.

Lady Minne, but for the Christians you are

Mary, most beautiful of all beautiful women,
The most complete and perfect beauty,
The brown girl in the white dress,
The womanly beauty without spot or wrinkle,
The slender palm in the sun of God,
The lovely gazelle of Judea.

Lady Minne, but for theologians you are

Within the Godhead the Holy Spirit.
For Holy Spirit is God's beautiful love.
The Eternal Father loves the Son of God,
The Son of Man loves God the Father eternally,
And between the Father and the Son
The bond of union is the Holy Spirit.
And the Holy Spirit is the Father's love
And the Holy Spirit is the love of Jesus Christ.
And if we are Christians in the body of Christ,
God loves us with the love of the Holy Spirit.

Lady Minne, I have seen your beauty,

Lady Minne, you are indescribably beautiful,
Lady Minne, brown maiden, God's radiance,
Lady Minne, I gaze at you breathlessly,
Lady Minne, I'll gaze on thee forever,
Lady Minne, more beautiful than the beautiful women,
Lady Minne, truth in disguise,
Lady Minne, ideal in my mind,
Lady Minne, kindest idea,
Lady Minne, bless all the sons of men,
Lady Minne, give us bliss, give us bliss,
Lady Minne, let us enjoy you forever,
Lady Minne, queen of paradise,
Lady Minne, beloved of our God,
Lady Minne, beloved of the pious!

THE GIRL CHARITY AND THE DIVINE CHILD

Saint Hildegard of Bingen saw visions,

In female form, the love of God.
If God is Love, then Love is
Divinity, and as God is a Father,
So Charity is even more a Mother.

In female form Charity stands

In the sky high on a throne of clouds.
The girl Charity, seventeen years young,
Wears a red dress, a rose-red dress,
And a long sea-blue skirt
And her bare feet stand on clouds.
Her head is veiled by long hair,
Of long silky brown hair.
Her eyes are almond-shaped and look
With sparkling eyes full of tenderness.
The mouth is kissable and rose-red,
The face is narrow, an elongated oval,
The neck a white tower of ivory.
The sleeves of the red dress are pushed up,
The lily arms of this maiden are visible.
She holds her son in her hands,
The Logos, who is the Son of Charity,
Who is not created, in eternity
Born, divinity from divinity, light
From light, born of the girl Charity.
The Logos is a little naked boy,
Four years old and yet from eternity,
With blonde hair like golden fleece of the lamb,
The big eyes sky-blue and shining,
You can see eternity in his eyes.
The mouth is rosy and ready to kiss,
He greets men with the kiss of love.

O girl Charity, most high deity,

O girl Charity, most pure beauty,
O girl Charity, most beautiful love,
O girl Charity, lead us to heaven,
O girl Charity, always let us gaze upon you,
O girl Charity, let us always desire you,
O girl Charity, let us enjoy you always,
O girl Charity, choose me in marriage,
O girl Charity, give me your grace,
O girl Charity, let me know all of you,
O girl Charity, give me your pearl,
O Girl Charity, let us be one!

ICON OF LADY CHARITY ACCORDING TO ST. HILDEGARD

Lady Charity sits on her heavenly throne,

She wears a long bluish-white dress,
Her bare feet are of a red colour,
The face is also of red colour,
The skin of the Lady Charity is of glow,
Her hair is brown and silky and long,
Her eyes large, the whites of her eyes,
In her left hand she holds the tablets,
The two, of the Mosaic law,
It is the book Byblia,
Her right hand raised in salutation,
For blessing and also for instruction.
Her upper body is in the heaven of God,
Her lower body is on the earth of God.
She is the Sovereign of the saints,
She is the Sovereign of the angelic choirs,
She is the Sovereign of Paradise,
She is the Sovereign of Purgatory,
She is the Sovereign of the green earth,
She is the Sovereign of the blue sea,
She is the Sovereign of the universe.

Lady Charity speaks, I am the embers of fire

Of love, am the glow of light in the sun,
I am the mild glow of the gentle moon,
I am the source of all the waters,
I am the green power of your mother earth,
I break open the grain and make it grow,
I am the blaze of fire in grapevines,
I teach birds of the sky their time,
I teach ant colonies diligence,
To the bee colony the art of honeycomb building,
I teach the red roses to blossom,
The butterflies I teach the wedding dance.

Lady Charity says, I have created my people

I have created. Through the mother and the father
I have given man his body
And to his body also the soul of the body,
I wove the body of man in the womb,
I breathed into him the breath of life
And pressed my seal into the human spirit
With a kiss, I kissed my love
Into this human spirit and in the kiss
A singularly beautiful image of God.

CHARITY IN THE MARRIAGE BED OF GOD

I looked, and behold, I saw Charity,

Charitys in the marriage bed of God!

The heavenly palace opened up to me

And seven rooms were in the palace,
Three rooms were for purification,
Three rooms were for meditation,
Three rooms were for union.
Union with God is not the highest,
Oneness with the Godhead is the highest.
In the seventh room was the bed of the Godhead.
It was a conjugal double bed,
In the conjugal double bed lay God
And in the arms of God, Lady Charity.
And God and Charity sang to each other
Like bride and bridegroom the Song of Songs.
And God sang to his spouse Charity,
How beautiful are your breasts, full as grapes,
Like twin gazelle fawns leaping,
Thy womb is fruitful as a wheat field,
Thy navel is a cup of strong wine!

And God joined Charity

And Charity spread her legs wide
And God groped Charity‘s breasts
And she opened the quiver to his arrow
And God entered like a golden cloud
Into the tent of much-loved Charity.
And on the mounds of her beautiful breasts
God triumphed as the Triumphator
And God and his spouse Charity
In a supernatural ecstasy
Fused that it was said, God is Charity!

And from the conjugal union

Of God and the mistress Charity
The little Son of God was born.
The little Son of God in the marriage bed
Lying between God and his Charity
And called God the Father in heaven
And Mother Charity the Great Mother.

O Charity in the marriage bed of God,

Let me into thy bed in Paradise!
O Charity in the marriage bed of God,
Let me pine for you in Paradise!
O Charity in the marriage bed of God,
Satisfy my pining in heaven!
O Charity in the marriage bed of God,
Thou my perfect delight in heaven!

PART VI

TANNHÄUSER AT THE SONG CONTEST

Knights sought fame and fortune,

But our man Tannhäuser
Was the favourite of beautiful women,
Many a wench was willing to him.

Tannhäuser was a rival

Of Walter von der Vogelweide
For the love of her princess,
Saint Elisabeth, the rose.

Tannhäuser sang the little song,

Woman, lift up thy skirt,
Spread your white thighs,
Show the black mons veneris!

Saint Elisabeth, the rose,

But spoke to Tannhäuser,
Such verses, highly erotic,
May cost thee thy head!

Wartburg in the land of Saxony,

Show thou the prince's power!
At twelve hundred and twenty-six
Knights practised jousting.

All came to the feast,

To glorify the Prince,
Prince Louis of Wartburg,
Who was a favourite of the emperor.
Warriors served their princes,
Served Christ on the Crusade,
To free their brothers
At the tomb of their God.

At twelve hundred and twenty-six

That summer at Wartburg Castle
The knights met and wooed
For the mercy of their prince.

Tannhäuser was among them,

Said, Instead of castles
I conquer women's hearts!
O Elisabeth, you rose!

Tannhäuser loved to sing

Highly erotic of love,
Of love's adventures,
Of the bodies of beautiful women.

Tannhäuser, the famous,

Was a love-struck knight,
Sang out of his wits,
A connoisseur of women's beauty.

He sang songs instead of fighting.

Minstrels at the Wartburg
Have sung love songs
For Elisabeth, the rose.

Louis promoted the arts,

Was patron of the minstrels,
He wanted to extend the domain
In the land of Saxony,

He made an alliance with the Emperor,

With the Hohenstaufen Emperor Frederick,
He helped the Emperor on the Crusade,
Ruled the land of Meissen,

Now celebrates at Wartburg Castle

The contest of two poets.
Walter von der Vogelweide
Was favoured by the prince.

Walter von der Vogelweide

Was the evening star of fame,
Tannhäuser, his rival,
Was vulgar, frivolous, erotic.

Walter von der Vogelweide

And also his rival Tannhäuser
Were not of the high nobility,
But travellers and beggars.

Walter von der Vogelweide,

He was twenty years older,
He was rich and respected
By the grace of his prince.

Tannhäuser was ambitious,

He needed success in the contest,
He had to beat Walter, but
Louis was favourable to the old man.

So Tannhäuser's hope
Was Elisabeth, the rose,
Her judgement was decisive,
She was holy and merciful.

He wants the princess to pay attention.

His songs highly erotic
Go down well with women,
Even with high noble ladies.

So he sang before the princess,

Beautifully kneaded her breasts,
Her rounded buttocks, too,
Softly she cries for love!

Said Elisabeth, the rose,

Beautiful your song, my Tannhäuser,
With verses highly erotic
Thou wilt triumph in the contest!

Walter was already getting on in years,

Singing for Jesus and the Virgin.
Knights sing for the women
And the sanctity of the princess.

Tannhäuser sat in the bath,

The tub was made entirely of wood.
In those days there was good food,
Dance, music, enjoyment of life.

There was an overflowing need,

Wartburg was a magnet for all artists.
A magnet for all artists
Was the court of Prince Louis.

Minstrels came gladly

And the very best cooks
And the most beautiful dancers
And the musicians on the lutes,
For the ideal of nobility
Was the warrior's courage and strength
And polite behaviour
And the art of minstrel‘s song.

In Tannhausen was born

Tannhäuser around twelve hundred,
For the first seven years
Always on his mother's skirt,

Was trained as a warrior,

Trained at the Wartburg,
For his father was a warrior
With the Staufenkaiser Frederick,

Who now trained Tannhäuser,

How to stay on horseback,
How to steer a steed with his thighs,
How to splinter the lance.

Trained in the fine

Noble manners at court,
He was trained in manners
And in reading and writing.

Yes, Tannhäuser could read!

Yes, Tannhäuser could write!
Ladies taught the manners
And the behaviour at the table.

And he learned the arts of speech,

Dancing, singing and playing the lute,
Was trained by ladies
And admired by women.

And at the age of fifteen

He was made a knight,
Though he belonged to the lesser nobility
As his father belonged.

So he is poor. The life

Of a knight, ah, is expensive!
A knight's armour costs
Fifty fat suckler cows!

He also needs three horses,

One is not enough!
A knight's warhorse costs
Thirty pigs and twelve oxen.

The knight has plenty of food

And lodging in the Wartburg,
But he must pay a squire,
He must pay a squire!

In the dormitory he must lie

With the other lords knights.
And a coat of mail, that costs
A fortune to our knight.

Only if he is victorious in the contest

And overcomes Walter,
Can he afford the good life
As a poet further on.

A duel, not with the sword,

A duel, with love verses
Against Walter, the famous
Veteran and rival!

Tannhäuser must dare something,

To defeat this old man.
Unusually cheeky lyrics
Writes Tannhäuser and taboo.

He risks a scandal at court,

Scandal among the high nobility.
If the prince is no longer gracious to him,
He must live as a warrior.

So, lance or lute!

I sing not of wars,
But sing wars of love
And pillow fights in beds!

Sees then Louis, this landgrave,

Saint Elisabeth's, the rose,
The Lady's honour degraded
By Tannhäuser's loose songs?

For the fame has preceded him

Of a singing rebel,
Who parodied the courtesy
By the boldest eroticism.

Other monstrels worship

Women in beautiful verses,
Only the most distant ideals
In the purest verses of chastity.

But Tannhäuser sings of real

Love adventures sensual.
Walter is the good old man,
Writes only very discreetly of the body.

But Tannhäuser more detailed

Sings of his lady's body,
Of the breasts, of the bottom,
Of the mons veneris' pubic hair.

Girl! Lift up your skirt!

Girl! Spread your legs!
Eroticism brings him friends,
Eroticism brings him fiends.

But Tannhäuser is more popular

By the women, because they are no longer
Only abstract ideals,
Untouchable, goddess-like.

Tannhäuser is the revolt

Of a lust-filled youth.
Walter von der Vogelweide
Is the religion of the old.

But when Tannhäuser

Fantasies highly erotic
Projected onto the women
Of his patrons, it becomes dangerous!

At the rehearsal for the competition

Tannhäuser was already appreciated
Of Elisabeth, the rose:
Thou art sure of my grace!

Oh the firm young breasts!

Oh the shapely buttocks!
Oh the firm mound of Venus
With curly black pubic hair!

A hundred barrels of red wine!

Chamberlain and cellar master
And the young boy cupbearer
With the long golden curls!

Pig and lamb and ox to feed,

Crane and pheasant and fish,
Stag and hare, fruit and wild boar,
Cumin, pepper, dates, figs!

At the table the conversations

About politics and emperors.
Tannhäuser also wrote poems
About table manners.
The duel! Only one winner!
But the pious princess warns,
Saint Elisabeth, the rose,
Sing not vulgar verses!

At the end of this banquet

Come the minstrels.
Once Walter sang love songs,
Religious now and moral.

WALTER VON DER VOGELWEIDE SINGS:

Now I have grown old. In confidence

To you said, death is no longer far.
In my beard I already see the grey
And silver-white hairs. Alas, the star
Of life is sinking. Now to Our Lady
I sing my song and to my God, the Lord,
Who may forgive the songs of my youth!
I will consecrate myself dying to our wives!

Not worship of high ladies

Tannhäuser sang at the table,
Quite concrete love's desire
Of the moist eye of the maiden!

TANNHÄUSER SINGS:

Beloved, lift up your skirt!

Spread your white thighs, spread your legs!
I praise your breasts, your charms!
Appear to me in Eve's beautiful dress!
Give the mons veneris, far from avarice,
Let your buttocks quiver at all times!
In the game of love moan with your moist
And hot mouth and let the eyes shine!

All are silent at the table.

Saint Elisabeth, the rose,
Applauded with her hands:
Tannhäuser has won!

These dissolute songs

Were not a high art form,
But in all the courts of nobility
They sang his love songs.

A year later Tannhäuser went

With the emperor and the prince
To eternal Rome, to the Pope
And to the grave of his God.

PART VII

PLOTIN'S HYMNS TO DIVINE BEAUTY

HYMN I

The beautiful is largely based

On the perceptions of the eyes,
But it is also based on those of the ears,
As in the composition of words
And in music.
For melodies and rhythms are also beautiful.
Let us ascend further from sensual perception,
There are also beautiful institutions,
Deeds, states, sciences,
Finally, a beauty of virtue.
Whether there is still a higher beauty,
Will become clear in the further course.
But what is the effecting cause of it,
That bodies are seen as beautiful,
That the ears approve the sounds
As beautiful sounds?
And what is further connected with the soul,
How far is all this beautiful?
And are all these things further
By one and the same beautiful,
Or is there a particular beauty in one body
And again a special one in another object?
And what actually are these different
Or this one beauty?
For some objects are not beautiful in themselves,
Bodies, for example,
But by participation in beauty,
Others, however, are beauties in themselves,
As is the nature of virtue.
Also the same bodies appear
Sometimes beautiful, sometimes not beautiful,
So that their being as bodies is different
From their being as beautiful bodies.
What then is this,
What here constitutes this certain quality of bodies?
For this must be the first object
Of our investigation.
What is it, then,
That makes an impression on the eyes of the beholder,
What attracts them, captivates them
And makes them like the sight of it?
When we have found this,
We may use it as a preliminary
To a successful further contemplation.
Now it is claimed by almost everyone
That the symmetry of the parts to each other
And to the whole
And beautiful colouring
Is what constitutes beauty for the perception of the eyes,
And to them, as to common consciousness,
Beauty is as much as being symmetrical
And be bound to certain proportions.
With this presupposition, however, it is logical that
Nothing simple,
But only the composite can be beautiful,
The individual parts will not be beautiful
In and of themselves,
But only in so far as their relation to the whole,
That the whole is beautiful.
And yet, if the whole is beautiful,
The individual parts must also be beautiful.
For it cannot consist of ugliness,
But beauty must have taken hold of all the parts.
Likewise, for the followers of this assumption
The beautiful colours as well as the sunlight
As simple and such things,
Which have their beauty not in consequence of symmetry,
Lie outside the realm of beauty.
How then shall gold be beautiful?
Or whereby the lightning,
Which is seen in the night?
In the same way, in the field of sounds
The simple will not come into consideration,
Though often of the notes of a beautiful melody
Every single musical note
Is also beautiful in and of itself.
And if now, furthermore, without the one symmetry being changed,
The same face appears sometimes beautiful, sometimes not beautiful,
Need it not be said
That the beautiful consists in something else
Than the symmetrical
And that the symmetrical itself
Is beautiful through something else?
And if one now goes on
To the institutions and beautiful speeches
And here, too, the symmetrical
As the reason for the beautiful,
How, in the case of beautiful institutions, laws,
Knowledge and science
Talking about symmetry?
How can objects of theory
Stand in symmetrical relations to one another?
Is it because there is a correspondence between them?
But even the bad has its sameness and correspondence.
For example, it is true with the assertion,
Moderate self-control is simplicity,
Is the same as another assertion,
Justice is a noble goodness.
Both assertions are in harmony with each other
And correspond to each other.
Now beauty of the soul is every virtue
And indeed such a one,
Which is much nearer to true beauty
Than the kinds of it mentioned in the foregoing.
But are they symmetrical?
But neither as magnitudes,
Nor as numbers,
Although there are several parts of the soul.
For in what proportion shall
The composition or mixture of the parts
Or conceptions stand to each other?
And wherein shall the beauty of reason
Sunk in itself as its unity?

II

Let us now take up the thread of enquiry

From the beginning again and determine,
What is actually the original beauty
In the bodies.
For there is such a thing,
That can be perceived at first sight.
The soul calls it something it has known for a long time,
It recognises it again as something it likes,
It enters into a harmonious relationship with it, as it were.
If, on the other hand, it encounters the ugly,
It turns away,
She does not recognise it
And rejects it
As alien and contradictory to its nature.
Our assertion now goes like this,
That the soul, according to its own nature.
Belongs to the better being
In the realm of being,
When it sees a kindred thing
Or a trace of the related,
It rejoices,
It moves violently,
She relates the seen object to herself,
She becomes conscious again of her own being.
What, then, is the similarity
Between the beautiful on this side and the beautiful on the other?
But if there is a resemblance,
They may be similar.
In what way are both beautiful?
Through participation in the idea, we claim,
This world is beautiful.
For all that is formless,
Whose natural destiny lies therein,
Is to take in form and idea,
As long as it remains without reason and idea, it is ugly
And is outside of divine reason,
And this is the ugliness par excellence.
But this too is ugly,
That which is not permeated by formative reason,
In that matter could not be shaped throughout.
Now that the idea approaches,
It grasps that which from many parts
Is to become a unity through composition,
Into a unity,
Leads it to a real definiteness of purpose
And makes it one
Through inner agreement,
Since it was itself One
And also that which is to be formed should become one,
As far as this is possible with its original multiplicity.
On it, when it is already combined into unity,
Beauty now sits enthroned
And communicates itself to the parts as to the whole.
But if it encounters a thing that is already by nature one
And consisting of similar parts,
Then it communicates itself only to the whole.
For example, some natural quality imparts it to the whole
Or even art
Soon to a whole house with its parts,
Soon to a single stone the beauty.
Thus the beautiful body comes into being
Through its participation in
The beauty coming from the gods.

III

But beauty is recognised

Through a special faculty designed for it,
Which is perfectly capable
To judge in its own sphere,
As soon as the rest of the soul agrees with its judgement.
But perhaps the soul itself also decides,
By judging the perceived object
According to the idea inherent in it,
Of which it makes use in its judgement,
As one uses a straightedge,
Where it is a question of the straight.
But how does the corporeal
With the incorporeal?
How does the master builder build
A house that is outside of him
According to his inner idea of the house,
So that he calls it beautiful?
Yes, because the house that is outside of him is beautiful,
Apart from the stones,
Nothing but the inner,
Though divided by the outward material mass,
But still it appears in the multiplicity,
Is nevertheless an undivided idea.
If now also the sensuous perception
Beholds the idea inherent in the bodies,
How it masters the opposite, formless nature.
And unites them into unity,
And the form,
Which is delicately applied to other forms,
Thus does it sum up that multiple
Into a totality,
Lift them up
And puts it into connection
With the already existing undivided idea within
And leads it to it as something congruent,
Related and friendly:
As it is to a righteous man
A pleasing sight,
When on the face of a boy
A trace of virtue appears,
Which agrees with the truth within him.
The beauty of colour
Is simply by shaping and overcoming
The darkness that clings to matter
By the addition of the incorporeal
Light emanating from reason and idea.
Hence also the fire
Compared to the other things of the corporeal world
Is beautiful in itself,
Because in relation to the other elements
It takes the rank of an idea,
For it is directed upwards,
It is the thinnest of all other bodies,
The transition, as it were, to the incorporeal,
Fire alone absorbs nothing else,
While it itself pervades all else,
For things become warm,
But fire does not grow cold,
It contains the primary colour
And the other things borrow from it the colouring par excellence.
So it shines and glitters,
As if it were an idea itself.
The fire, of course,
Which cannot master matter,
With its dull, pale light,
Is no longer beautiful,
Because, in a sense, it does not share in the idea of colouring
In its totality.
The inner harmonies of the tones that do not appear,
Which those produce,
Which we hear with our ear,
Open at the same time to the soul
The understanding of the beautiful,
By revealing in another
Their own essence to appear.
However, it is also in the nature
Of the sounds we hear,
That they cannot be measured
As ideal numerical ratios,
But only in so far as they are ideal,
As they serve to help
The idea to master matter.
So much of the beautiful,
Which is based on sensory perception,
Which is, after all, only an image,
A silhouette,
Which has, as it were, lost itself in matter,
Which adorns it
And at the sight of it
Fills us with delight.

IV

Now about the more distant stages of beauty,

Which sensual perception
Is no longer granted to behold,
Which rather the soul
Without the tools of sense sees and thinks,
We must approach our contemplation
From a higher standpoint,
Leaving sensual perception
Here below.
But as in the case of the beauty of sensual perception
No one could speak of the same,
Who had neither seen it himself
Nor perceived it as beautiful,
Such as those who are blind from youth,
So, in the same way,
Nor of the beauty of beautiful institutions
Those who have perceived the beauty of the same
Or of the sciences and other such spheres.
Have not felt,
Nor of the light of virtue those
Who have not even an inkling of it,
How beautiful the face of justice
And of moderate self-control,
That neither morning nor evening star is so beautiful.
But one must have seen it for oneself on the path,
On which the soul beholds such things,
And must, when he sees, be filled with joy
And astonished rapture,
In a much higher degree
Than in the earlier stages of beauty,
Since here one is dealing
With the true beauty.
For this must be the feeling
With everything that is beautiful:
Astonishment and sweet wonder,
Longing, love and joyful delight!
That can feel
And indeed feel also in that,
That which cannot be seen with the bodily eye,
One might say, all souls,
But to a greater degree,
Those of them who are more capable of love,
Just as they all take pleasure in beautiful bodies,
But they are not equally affected,
But some in particular,
Of whom one then says in the true sense,
They love.

Now we must address our questions

To those too,
Who are filled with love of the supersensible.
What do you feel about so-called beautiful institutions,
Beautiful manners, temperate characters,
In the works and states of virtue in general?
And in the beauty of souls?
What do you feel,
When you see yourselves as beautiful within?
How is it that you break out into loud rejoicing
And into violent movement,
That you yearn,
To be freed from the bonds of the body
To enter into love intercourse with yourselves?
For this is indeed the sentiment of those,
Who in truth are seized with love.
But what is the object of such a sentiment?
Not a shape, not a colour, not a size,
But the soul,
Which itself is colourless
And has the pure, colourless light of Wisdom
And other virtues in itself,
If either in yourselves
Or in another high-mindedness,
Righteousness of mind
And wisdom of speech,
Bravery with her earnest face,
Dignified decency, and chaste temper,
That blossoms on a calm,
By no wave, by no passion moved mood,
But above all
The godlike reason shines forth.
And why do we now call this,
By admiring and loving it, beautiful?
Well, it is evident and reveals itself,
Without anyone being able to contradict it,
As that which truly exists.
But what is it in its true being?
Is it beautiful?
But it has not yet emerged from the investigation,
What feature of its being
Makes it amiable to the soul.
What is that which shines forth like light in all virtues?
Will you take the opposite,
What in the soul is ugly?
Perhaps it is of importance for the result of our examination,
What ugliness actually is
And why it appears as such.
So let us take an ugly,
Dissolute and unrighteous soul,
Full of sensual desires,
A soul full of unrest,
Full of cowardly fear, full of petty envy,
Whatever it may think
Always in base and transitory thoughts,
Always creeping deceitfully along the by-paths,
A friend to unclean pleasures,
Dependent in her life only on bodily influences,
A soul that finds pleasure in ugliness:
Will we not now say,
That this very ugliness
Like an evil, originally foreign to it,
Has approached it,
Which disgracefully disfigures it,
Has made her unclean,
Has, as it were, impregnated her with evil,
So that she has no pure life,
No pure sentiment,
But by the mixture of evils
A blurred one,
And often permeated by death,
No longer sees what a soul should see,
No longer able to remain with itself,
Because it is always drawn to the external,
Earthly and dark?
Thus as impure,
By being carried away by the first best lures
Of sensual impressions,
In intimate intercourse with the body,
In frequent intercourse with the material,
Which it takes into itself,
Has, by mingling with the vile,
Assumed an entirely different appearance;
As when one immerses oneself in mud or dirt
And now no longer lets its original beauty appear,
But must be seen with that
Which the mud and dirt have left on him.
To him, then, is the ugliness come
Through the approaching strangeness
And if he wants to become beautiful again,
He must, by laborious washing and cleansing
Return to his original state.
So one could rightly say,
The soul has become ugly
Through its mixture, connection
And its leaning towards the body and matter.
And this is an ugliness for the soul,
To be no longer pure and clean,
As it is for gold to be still in the dross.
Only when the dross is removed,
The gold remains
And rests detached from everything else
In its beauty sunk in itself.
So too the soul.
Only when it is detached from the desires,
With which it is afflicted as a result of its too intimate
Intercourse with the body,
When it is freed from the other passions,
Purified from that,
What it has in itself in its embodiment,
And alone remains,
It is wont to shed all the ugliness
Of the worse nature.

VI

It is just as the old proverb teaches,

Temperance, fortitude,
Every virtue is a purification,
And so is Wisdom itself.
Therefore it is also rightly said
In the religious ordinances,
Darkness is alluded to it,
That the unpurified must lie in the mud,
Because the unclean, through his wickedness.
Has something in common with the mud,
Just as the pigs with their unclean body
Find pleasure in such things.
What else would true prudence be,
But to reject the intercourse of sensual pleasures,
To call them impure
And to flee them unworthy of a pure man?
Fortitude is fearlessness before death.
But death is the separation of the soul from the body.
He is not afraid of this,
Who finds joy in being alone.
The greatness of the soul is
Seeing beyond the earthly things.
Wisdom is thinking
In its turning away from the world here below,
The thinking that leads the soul up to the higher.
When the soul is purified,
It becomes an idea, a pure reason,
Simply incorporeal, spiritual
And completely permeated by the divine,
From whence comes the source of the beautiful
And all that is related to it.
Led upwards to reason,
The soul is beautiful in the fullest possible perfection.
Reason and what emanates from reason,
Is the soul's own original beauty,
Which does not approach it as something foreign,
Because the soul alone is this in truth.
Therefore one also rightly says,
The soul's becoming good and beautiful
Is a becoming similar to God,
Because from him comes the beautiful
And the better part of that which exists.
Or rather, the existing is beauty,
But the other nature is the ugly.
But the ugly and the originally evil are identical,
So that, conversely, that is good and beautiful
At the same time,
More correctly: the good and the beauty.
In the same way, then, one has
The beautiful and the good,
The ugly and the evil.
The first, therefore, is beauty,
Beauty is to be placed as the first.
Reason emanates from it as the beautiful par excellence.
Through reason the soul is beautiful.
The other thing that is beautiful in deeds and actions,
It is through the soul's design.
In the world of the body, too, that which is beautiful Becomes beautiful,
That which deserves the name of the beautiful
Is made so by the soul.
For since it is something divine,
It is, as it were, a part of the beautiful,
It makes everything beautiful,
That which it touches and masters,
As far as it is able to receive it.

VII

So we must rise again to the good,

For which every soul longs.
If anyone has seen it,
He knows what I mean by the assertion,
It is beautiful.
It must be striven for as the good
And the striving must be directed towards it.
One attains it when one ascends to the superior,
Turning towards him, and putting off
What one had put on when coming down,
Just as those who prepare
For the most sacred action of the Mysteries,
Need purification,
Take off their garments
And approach in their undergarments,
Until, on ascending, they have avoided all
That is foreign to the divine,
And with his sole self
Also beholds the divine in its unity
As pure, simple and clear,
As that by which all is conditioned,
To which all things look,
In which all things live and think.
For it is the cause of life,
Of reason and being.
But what ardour of love will not he feel,
Who sees this,
How he will long for intimate union with it,
How will he tremble with the wonder of delight!
For the divine as the good
Even he who has never seen it longs for it.
But he who has seen it,
He admires it for its beauty,
He is filled with joyful wonder,
He falls into terror that does not consume him,
Who loves in true love
And in fierce longing,
He scorns all other loves
And despises what he formerly thought beautiful.
Such is the sentiment of those
To whom an appearance of gods has come
And who now want to know nothing more
Of the beauty of other bodies.
What will he feel
Who now sees the absolute beauty
In its purity that is in and for itself,
Without fleshly bodily covering,
To be pure,
Bound to no space of earth or heaven.
For all this is something derived and mixed,
Nothing original,
But proceeding from that.
Who therefore sees that,
Which opens the round of all other things,
Which communicates in itself, resting.
And takes up nothing in itself,
He who then remains in its sight and enjoys it
By becoming like it,
What more could he need of beauty?
It is, after all, the primordial beauty itself,
Which is the very thing that is beautiful,
Even those who love it,
It makes them beautiful and lovable.
It is also the goal for the greatest
Most strenuous competition of souls,
The goal of all endeavour,
Not to be deprived of the most glorious sight.
Blessed is he who has attained it,
Who has come to see the blissful sight;
Not blessed, indeed, is he who has not attained it.
For not he is wretched,
Who is deprived of the sight of beautiful colours and bodies,
Who gains neither power, nor honour, nor crowns,
But he who does not attain these heavenly things,
For the attainment of which one
To all the crowns and kingdoms of the whole earth,
On the seas and in heaven,
Whether, forsaking earthly things with contempt,
And look upon that beauty of the god,
Is bleed with the sight of it.

VIII

But in what way and how should one take this?

How should one see the unspeakable beauty,
Which remains, as it were, in the innermost sanctuary
And does not come out,
That even the uninitiated might see it?
Go then and enter
Into the interior, whoever is able.
He leaves outside,
What the eyes see,
He does not look around for that
What formerly appeared to him
As the splendour of beautiful corporeality.
For when one beholds bodily beauty,
One must not wish to be absorbed in it,
But in the knowledge that it shows only shadows,
To flee to him whose likeness it is.
For he who would run to embrace it as something true,
Like a beautiful shape,
That rocks on the water,
One who would embrace such a one,
As it is said in a well-known myth full of meaning,
Sank into the depths of the tide
And was seen no more -
Who, clinging to the beauty of the sensual world
And would not let it go of,
In much the same way, though not bodily,
But spiritually sank into the dark,
The depths unpleasant to reason,
Would then live blind in Hades
And consort here and there with shadows.
Let us flee to the beloved land of our fathers!
Let us rather cry out to each other.
But where will we flee to
And how shall we reach the open sea?
As Ulysses suggests, I will think,
Who, hastening from the enchantress Circe
Or from Calypso,
No pleasure in staying,
Though his eyes did revel in the sight of pleasure
And he enjoyed sensual beauty in fullness.
But fatherland and fathers are for us there,
From whence we came.
And how will our journey and flight proceed?
Not on foot shall we wander,
For our feet carry us from one land to another.
We need not look for a chariot with horses
Nor look for a ship on the sea,
But all these must be left alone and not seen at all,
We must close our eyes, as it were,
We must exchange and open it for another homeland,
Which all possess,
But of which few avail themselves.

IX

What does that inner eye see?

Immediately at its opening
It cannot yet bear the too bright.
Therefore one must accustom the soul itself,
To look first at a beautiful way of life;
Then to beautiful works,
Not such works as the arts can accomplish,
But as they proceed from good men.
Then consider the soul of those who do good works.
But how wilt thou see what beauty is
In a good soul?
Withdraw into thyself and look,
And if thou dost not yet behold thyself as beautiful,
Then take, as the sculptor does,
Who, in that which is to become beautiful,
Now here, now there, he takes something away and grinds it down,
Sometimes he smoothes here, sometimes he cleans there,
Until he brings to his image a beautiful countenance,
Remove all that is superfluous,
Make the crooked straight again,
Cleanse the dark and make it light,
In short, don't stop working on your image,
Until the divine splendour of virtue shines upon thee,
Till thou behold prudence,
That walks on holy ground.
When you have become that
And see thyself
And deal purely with thyself,
With nothing to hinder thee
To become so self-conceited,
Without any further admixture within you
To your self,
But be thyself entirely,
True light,
A light neither measured by size
Nor by shape constrained in narrow bounds,
Nor, on the other hand, extended to measureless greatness,
But simply infinite,
So that it is beyond all measure
And beyond all quantity -
When you see that you have become that
And you have already attained the inner sight:
Then take courage for thyself,
Advance from there,
You no longer need a guide
And look before you with an unwavering gaze.
For only such an eye sees the full beauty.
But if it, its gaze by vices entwined
And unpurified or weak,
It prepares itself to see,
In female cowardice
It cannot bear the all too bright,
So it sees nothing at all,
Even if someone else wanted to show it what is visible,
What lies before him.
For an eye that is related to the object to be seen
And similarly made eye
One must bring along to see.
The eye would never have seen the sun,
If it were not sunlike itself;
So also a soul cannot see the beautiful,
Unless it be beautiful itself.
Therefore, let everyone first become godlike and beautiful,
If he would see the good and the beautiful.
First, in his ascent
To reason
And there he will see all the beautiful ideas,
And he will say that the ideas are the beautiful.
For everything is beautiful through them,
Through the creations and the essence of reason.
What lies beyond this, we call the nature of the good,
Which has the beautiful as a shell before it,
So that, to put it briefly, it is the primordial beauty.
If we distinguish the intelligent,
We shall call the intelligence of beauty
The world of ideas,
The good that lies beyond it,
The source and principle of beauty.
Or else we shall set the good
And primordial beauty as identical.
There, in any case, lies beauty.

HYMN II

Since we assert that he,

Who has attained to the contemplation
Of supersensible beauty
And has felt the beauty of the true spirit,
Is also able to know the origin of this
And the origin of the divine mind
With his thoughts,
So let us contemplate
And try to pronounce for ourselves
(As far as it is possible to pronounce such things),
How one may behold the beauty of the mind
And of that supersensible world.
Let us imagine two blocks of marble
Lying next to each other,
The one rough and unshaped,
The other already mastered by art
And the image of a god,
Or a muse, or a charis,
Or a man, but not just any man,
But of one by artistic hand
Very beautifully formed,
So that he which art hath raised to a fair form
Is obviously beautiful,
Not because it is a block of marble -
Otherwise the other would be beautiful in a similar way -
But from the idea,
Which art has imagined in it.
Now this idea did not come from the material,
But it was, even before it came into the stone,
In the mind of the sculptor,
And in him, not because he had eyes and hands,
But because he was an artist.
So this far higher beauty dwelt in art;
But this did not enter into the block of marble,
But in that it remains,
A lesser beauty proceeding from it;
And even this did not remain pure in itself
And obeyed the will of the sculptor only in so far
As the stone yielded to art.
But when art forms what it has and is -
And it forms the beautiful according to the concept of what it forms -
So it is beautiful to a higher and more correct degree,
Because it possesses the beauty of art,
Which, however, is still greater and more glorious
Than it appears outwardly.
For in so far as it has extended itself into the material,
It is so much weaker
Than that which persists in itself.
For everything that expands
Gives up something of its essence:
Strength from strength,
Heat from heat,
Power from power in general,
So also beauty from beauty;
And every creative principle
Must in and of itself be better than that which is created;
For not the lack of musical talent
Makes the musician,
But the musical art,
Likewise the visible form
That which lies before the world of the senses.
But if anyone despises the arts,
Because in their creations they imitate nature,
Then it must first be said
That the creations of nature are also imitations;
Then one must know,
That they do not badly imitate the appearance,
But ascend to the thoughts,
From which nature springs;
Then that they also add much from their own.
For being in possession of beauty
They add something to all that is lacking,
As Phidias also formed Zeus
After no visible object,
But it would look like Zeus,
If he were to appear before our eyes.

II

But let us leave the arts.

But the things whose works they are to imitate,
Let us consider the so-called natural beauty:
The rational and irrational beings all.
And especially those of them,
Which the sculptor and artist
In an exquisite degree brought to fruition
By mastering matter
And gave it the ideal form he wanted.
Now what is the beauty in these?
Whence comes, I ask, the shining beauty of Helen,
That much-disputed woman,
Or other women,
That in beauty were equal to Aphrodite?
Yea, whence that of Aphrodite herself
Or any other beautiful man or god,
That we may have seen
Or did not get,
Whose beauty, however, would catch our eyes?
Is this not the idea everywhere,
Which passes from the creator to the creature,
As it is in the field of the arts
According to our earlier assertion
From the arts to the work of art?
How then? The works of art are beautiful
And the concept dominating matter
And the concept operative in the creator,
Not in matter effective concept,
This first and materialless one should not be beauty?
Yes, if the mass, in so far as it was mass, was beautiful,
Then the creative concept,
Because it was not mass, it should not be beautiful;
But if, in the mass, whether small
Or great mass, the same thought prevailed,
That the soul of the beholder is moved in the same way
And tunes by its own power,
Then beauty is not to be ascribed to the size of the mass.
Proof of this is also this:
As long as it is outside us, we do not see it,
But as soon as it is within us,
It has already affected us.
It enters through the eyes
Only as an idea,
How else could it do so with so tiny an object?
But size is also drawn into it,
Not great in the mass,
But made great by the idea.
The creative cause
Must be either ugly or indifferent
Or beautiful.
If it were ugly, it would not have the opposite effect;
If it were indifferent, why should it prefer to produce
The beautiful more than the ugly?
But in truth nature,
Which thus brings forth the beautiful,
Is beautiful much sooner;
We, however, who are not accustomed
Or do not know how to look inside,
Chase after the outside without realising,
That the inward is the moving cause;
Just as when one who has seen his own image
And did not know whence it came, chased after it.
It proves, moreover, that the aspired is another
And beauty is not to be found in greatness,
Nor beauty in the sciences
And occupations, and in souls in general.
There it is indeed a greater beauty,
When you see Wisdom in someone
And admire without looking at his face;
This may be ugly, after all,
But leave aside all outward appearance.
And seek the inner beauty of the person.
But if thou dost not yet feel moved,
To call such a sage beautiful,
Then you have not yet, when looking into the inner self
At your own beauty.
In such a state, of course,
In vain you would seek her,
For thou wilt seek her with an ugly
And not with a pure mind.
That's why the speeches about such things
Do not concern everyone;
But if thou hast already seen thyself
As beautiful, think of it.

III

So there is also in nature

A concept of beauty,
The archetype of that which appears in visible form;
But more beautiful than that in nature
Is that in the soul,
From which also that in nature comes.
Of course, the one in a pure soul shines brightest,
Which also already manifests itself in beauty.
For after he has adorned the soul
And brought her light from the light
Of the greater original beauty,
He himself, remaining in the soul,
To reflect on the nature
Of the thought that lies before,
Which no longer communicates itself to another,
But remains within itself.
Therefore it is not even a thought,
But Creator of the first thought,
In that the beauty dwells in the matter of the soul.
And this is reason, the eternal,
Temporally unchanging reason,
Since it did not come to itself from outside.
Now under what image could these be comprehended?
For each will be taken from a lesser one.
But of course one must take the image
Of the spirit from the spirit.
From the spirit
And not from an image,
Just as one takes this or that gold
To designate gold in general,
This or that gold.
In doing so, one must, if that which is taken is not pure,
One must purify it, factually or conceptually,
And show that not all is gold,
But only this particular one within the mass.
The same applies to the image
Of the pure spirit within us
Or if you will to the gods,
According to the nature of the spirit that dwelleth in them.
For the gods are all venerable and beautiful
And their beauty is infinite.
But what is it that makes them so beautiful?
Only reason
Or rather, the reason that is manifested in them.
So it is not because they have beautiful bodies
That they are beautiful -
For beautiful bodies do not constitute
The essence of the Godhead -
But according to reason
They are gods.
Accordingly they are not wise today, foolish tomorrow,
But always wise
In their calm, constant, pure reason
And do not actually recognise the human being,
But their own being
And all that reason sees.
But of the gods the dwellers in the heavens behold
(For they have leisure) continually
And as from afar the things in that heavenly space
By lifting up their heads;
And all the dwellers there,
As many of them on it and in it have their abode,
Dwell everywhere in that celestial space.
For all is heaven there
And the earth is heaven, and the sea
And the beasts and the plants and the people:
All heavenly in that heaven.
And the heavenly gods
Do not spurn men,
Nor any of the things there,
Because they are from there,
But the whole circumference and space
They pervade in sublime peace.

IV

The easy life is also to be found there

And truth is their mother
And nurse and being and food,
And they see all,
Not as the becoming,
But as those who are,
And see themselves in others;
For all is clear and transparent,
Nothing dark or resistible,
But each is manifest to each within
And through everything,
For light to light it is said there.
Each one also has everything within himself
And in turn he sees everything in the other,
So that everywhere
Everything is and each thing
And immeasurable is the splendour;
For each in them is great,
So also the small is great
And the sun there the totality of the stars
And each star again the sun and all.
In each one another protrudes,
But at the same time it shows everything.
Here too is pure movement,
For in its course it disturbs
Not another movement different from it,
Nor is tranquillity shaken,
Because it is not clouded by impermanence;
And the beautiful is beautiful par excellence,
Because it is not only in the beautiful.
Each one does not walk as if on foreign soil,
But each man's place is himself, what he is,
And since his course is upward,
His starting point goes with him,
And not is he himself another
Nor the space another.
For the substrate is also reason
And he himself is reason,
Just as one could also look at this visible
Light-like heaven
As the producer of this light coming from it.
Here now in the world of the senses
Another part comes out of the other part
And each part remains alone for itself;
But there each part always emerges from the whole
And yet the part and the whole are always at the same time.
True, it appears as a part,
But the keen eye beholds it as a whole,
An eye such as Lynceus must have had,
Who could see into the bowels of the earth.
There is no fatigue for looking up there,
No satiety and no cessation;
For there is no lack,
After whose finite fulfilment one would have sufficiency,
Nor variety, nor diversity,
That one might not like
What pleases the other:
Untiring, unexhausted is everything.
But there is unfulfilment in that sense,
That fulfilment does not lead to contempt of the fulfilled;
For in looking the looking increases,
And he who sees himself
And the seen as infinite,
Is but following his own nature.
Further, of life, if it is pure,
No one is wearied;
And he who lives the best life,
What should tire him?
But life is Wisdom,
A Wisdom that by reflection
No increase receives,
Because it has always been complete,
Nor suffers any lack,
That it needs research,
But it is the first and original,
Derived from no other,
Yes, being itself is Wisdom.
Therefore none is greater
And science as such
Thrones there beside pure reason
In such a way that they appear with each other.
For all such things are there
As through themselves
And images visible in themselves,
So that the sight is a delight
Of overjoyed beholders.
The greatness and power of Wisdom
Someone would like to behold,
Because she has all that exists in her
And created
And everything follows her
And she herself is all that exists
And holds everything connected to her
And has become one with it:
In short, the Being above is Wisdom.
But we have not yet reached that understanding,
We have not yet penetrated it,
Because we consider the sciences
For products of speculation
And for a conglomerate
Of scientific premises,
And this is not even true
For the earthly sciences.
But if anyone should be in doubt about this,
Let us leave them at hand;
But as for that science,
At the sight of which Plato also said,
It is not another in another -
(But why, that he left open for us to seek and to find,
If otherwise we deem ourselves worthy of such speech) -
So perhaps we'd better begin with that.

So all products of art as of nature

Bring forth a wisdom
And the master craftswoman of creative activity
Is wisdom everywhere.
And if indeed someone creates directly
According to wisdom,
So may the arts be of this kind.
But the artist turns again
To the wisdom of nature,
After which he has become an artist,
To a wisdom
Which is not composed of theories,
But is one in itself,
Not made up of many pieces into a unity,
But from unity resolved into multiplicity.
If someone sets this as the first,
It may suffice,
For as it comes from no other,
Neither is it in any other.
But if they acknowledge reason in nature
And call nature the source of it,
We shall ask, from whence is it derived?
They say: from another.
What is that other?
Say: from itself.
We shall stop there.
But come to reason,
Then here is to be considered,
Whether reason has produced wisdom;
And if they admit it, whence?
But if from itself,
Then it must necessarily be wisdom itself.
True wisdom, then, is being
And true being is wisdom,
And the value of being comes from wisdom.
And because it comes from wisdom,
It is true being.
Therefore, all entities,
Which do not have wisdom in them,
Are indeed beings,
Because they come into being
For the sake of a certain wisdom;
But because they do not contain
Wisdom within themselves,
They are not true entities.
It is therefore not to be assumed,
That the gods or other supremely happy beings above
Observe scientific principles,
But all that is called there,
Are beautiful, ideal images,
Such as one might imagine
In the soul of a wise man,
But not recorded images,
But actual ones.
Therefore the ancients also called the ideas
Being and entities.

VI

The Egyptian sages also used it, it seems to me,

Whether by the most careful consideration
Or led to it by a certain instinct,
To communicate their wisdom,
Not characters as conveyors of words and doctrines,
But they made images
And every single object
They put into the outline of an image
And then showed in the temples
In deciphering the same,
That each was a certain science and wisdom
And that in its underlying totality,
But not the result of thought
Or a reflection.
If someone later recognised the image
Arising from that totality of the being,
As it has already developed in another,
Has, as it were, developed out of itself
And reveals itself in the development
And finds out the reasons why so,
Then he confessed to admiring wisdom,
How it, without grasping the reasons of its being,
Gives such an existence to that
Which is created according to it.
That this beauty, then,
Which, on examination, scarcely appears
Or does not appear at all,
Thus, if any man discover it,
Before investigation and consideration
And must be present,
As, for instance, if we take the whole as a whole.
What I mean will then also fit
All the individual things.

VII

Concerning this universe, then,

Which, we admit, by another
And indeed in this shape is created,
Are we to suppose, then,
That the Creator hath considered,
That the earth, in this shape,
Should stand in the middle,
Then the water, both that on the earth
And the rest in order up to heaven,
Then all living creatures
And each in the form
As much of it as now exists,
And with these internal and external organs,
That he then ascertained each order in himself
And thus put his hand to work?
But such deliberation was neither possible,
For whence should it come to him
Who never saw such a thing?
Nor could he work according to any other pattern,
As now the master craftsmen work
With the use of hands and feet,
For later hands and feet came into being.
So nothing remains,
But that all is in another,
But that, since there no intermediate area between being
And the created is found,
Suddenly, as it were, an image and symbol
That came into appearance,
Be it of itself,
Be it with the cooperation of the soul
(For at present nothing depends on this difference)
Or a certain spiritual force.
Surely, then, from there all this was together
And existed there in a more beautiful way;
For things here and not those are mixed.
But they are certainly from beginning to end
Bound by forms:
First matter by elementary forms,
Then again other forms join the forms,
Hence it is difficult to discover matter,
Which is hidden under many forms.
Since, however, it too is in a sense a final form,
So this universe is all form;
For the archetype was also form;
But it created this without sound,
Because all creation is being and form.
That is why creation proceeds so effortlessly;
It also extended to everything, since it is everything.
So there was not a resisting thing
And even now it gains dominion
Even so over the things that oppose each other;
But even now there is no resistance for her,
Since it is and remains everything.
And I believe that if we were the archetypes
And being and form at the same time
And the formative power
As our essence,
Then our creativity would win the victory without effort;
But man, as he is,
Creates a form different from his essence.
For man, as he has now become,
Has ceased to be the universe;
But when he has ceased to be man, says Plato,
Then he rises up and rules the whole world;
For having become one with the whole,
He creates the whole.
However, what was spoken of,
You can give a reason,
Why the earth is in the middle and round
And why just here the ecliptic;
But there was it not, because it had to be so,
Such a decision was made,
But because it is as it is, therefore it is beautiful.
There was the final sentence, as it were,
Before the syllogism,
Which did not first arise from the premises;
For not from inference and investigation
Do things arise,
But before all deduction and investigation;
For all this: Conclusion, proof, confirmation
Are derived things.
And since it is also principle,
So all things follow from it
And in this way;
It is also said very correctly,
One should not seek the cause of the causes,
Especially of such a cause,
Which is identical with the purpose;
But that which is cause and purpose,
That is all in all,
Without lack and without cessation.

VIII

It is therefore the primordial beauty,

And indeed it is a whole and everywhere whole,
So that not even in a single part
Beauty be afflicted with a defect.
So who will not call it beautiful?
For surely it is not,
Which it is not whole,
But only a part of it
Or does not even have that.
Or if that is not beautiful, what else is it?
For that which lies before it
Does not even want to be beautiful.
But what first and originally
Comes into the appearance,
In that it is the form and conception
Of pure reason,
It is by this very fact also wonderful to behold.
Hence also Plato, in order to designate this,
His creator of the world on something
Closer to our perception
And with this in mind, approves of his work,
By showing how wonderful is
The beauty of the archetype and the idea.
For with every object of our admiration
Which is made after another,
The admiration goes back to that,
After which it was made.
If this itself does not come to our consciousness,
It is no wonder.
Even lovers know this,
The admirers of earthly beauty,
That it is done for the sake of that,
And yet it happens because of it.
But that Plato wants that "he admired"
To the archetype,
Plato clearly shows,
By deliberately adding, in the course of the speech:
He admired his work
And wanted to make it even more like the original.
In this way he indicates the beauty of the archetype
By the fact that he sees the beauty
That has sprung from it
As an image of that archetype.
What else would it be, if that were not the superbeauty
In its incomprehensible beauty,
More beautiful than this visible beauty?
Therefore, the blamers of this visible beauty have no right,
Or only in so far as it does not reach that ideal.

IX

Let us then this world,

In which each part remains
What it is without confusion,
In our thoughts as a whole,
As far as possible, in such a way that,
In the colourful alternation of appearances,
Which are enclosed from without
As by the rim of a sphere,
To the image of the sun and all the stars,
The sight of the earth and the sea
And all living beings follow,
As if on a spherical surface visible everywhere,
And indeed, all will come to our sight.
Let us assume in the soul
The brightly shining form of a sphere,
Which holds everything in itself, moving or at rest,
Or partly at rest, partly moving.
By holding this,
Take another image,
From which you have stripped all materiality;
Take away also all spatial
And every idea of matter
And try not to grasp another form smaller only in mass,
But call upon God,
Who created the concept you have
And ask him to come.
He will come in his splendour with all the gods,
Who are in him,
As one, and concerning all,
Even as each one deals with all in himself
Into one unity;
Different only in their powers
And yet all again one in that one great power,
Or rather, the One is all of them taken together.
For he himself experiences no diminution,
When all those are generated;
Together they are all and yet again each for itself
On a spatially unseparated standpoint,
Without any visible form,
For otherwise one would be here, the other there
And each not wholly in itself;
Nor has he other parts for others or himself,
Nor is each whole there a divided power
And of such extent only,
As it has measured parts.
It is power par excellence, extending into infinity,
With its effects,
And in this respect it is great,
As its parts also are infinite.
And where would there be anything,
Where he is not already?
Great, then, is also this visible heaven
And all the powers in it altogether,
But greater would it be
And not to say how great,
If there were not a small measure of corporeality in it.
Nevertheless, someone would also like to call
Great the powers of fire
And other corporeal things,
But in this already betrays the inadequate knowledge
Of the real force,
When we say the outward process:
They burn and destroy and rub and play a part
In the formation of living beings.
But these things here destroy,
Because they too are destroyed,
And generate, because they themselves come into being;
But the power there
Has exclusively being and being beautiful.
For where would the beautiful be found deprived of being?
For where the beautiful ceases, there also ceases being.
That is why being is also desirable,
Because it is the same as the beautiful,
And the beautiful is lovable because it is being.
But of what use is it to examine,
Which is the cause of the other,
Since nature is but one?
For this pseudo-being here
Needs a beautiful simulacrum brought from outside,
So that it may appear beautiful and be only beautiful,
And it is so only insofar as it participates
In the beauty of the idea,
And the more it participates, the more perfect it is,
For only the idea possesses in a higher degree
Beauty in itself.

Therefore Zeus also breaks,

Who is the oldest of the gods,
Whom he himself leads,
First sets forth to behold the intelligent world,
But they follow,
The other gods and spirits and souls,
Who are able to see these things.
But it appears to them from an invisible place
And rising high above them
They shine down on everything
And fill it with their radiance
And startle the lower souls,
And they turn away, unable to see,
As one cannot look into the sun;
Some are held up by it and look,
The rest are confounded,
The farther they are from it.
But those who can, lo,
They all look at the same and at their wealth,
But not every one gains the same view,
But the one sees with unblinking eyes,
How the source and essence of the righteous shine forth,
The other is filled with the vision
Of prudent moderation,
But not in the way that men have it in themselves,
If they have it at all.
For this one is in a certain sense
An imitation of that one,
But that one,
Describing, as it were, the whole circumference of them,
Is finally seen perfectly by them,
Who already have many clear perceptions,
Have been made partaker of them.
So the gods see
Each one separately and each one at the same time
And also the souls who see everything there
And from the universe are born,
So that they themselves enclose everything
From beginning to end,
And they are truly there
As far as it has become their nature to be there,
Often they are there altogether,
For when they have not at all renounced themselves,
So that Zeus sees this
And who among us is driven by the same love,
He is the perfect manifestation of beauty in all things,
Beauty in its entirety,
And has part in the beauty there;
For everything shines forth from there
And fills those who have arrived there,
That they themselves become beautiful,
As it happens that men,
Who climb high in regions,
Where the earth is yellow,
Take on the colour of the element
In which they move.
But colour there is the beauty that sets in,
Or rather, everything there is colour
And beauty ran from within,
For beauty is nothing else
Than that which starts from without.
But to those who do not see the whole,
Only the surface appears as something beautiful,
But to those who are completely intoxicated
And drunk with nectar,
For beauty pervades the whole soul,
Do not walk away as mere spectators.
For the beholder is not outside,
Nor is the thing seen outside,
But the keen-sighted has the seen within him,
And when he has it, for the most part he knows it not
And looks at it like an outside,
Because he looks at it
And wants to look at it like a thing looked at.
For everything that someone sees as a visible thing,
He sees from without.
But one must transfer it into oneself
And look at it as a whole
And look at it like oneself,
Like someone who is enraptured by a deity,
By Phoebus or the Muse,
Causes in himself the vision of the divinity,
If he has the power to see the divinity in himself.

XI

But if any of us,

Unable to behold himself,
Is seized by that deity to behold,
He brings it to a vision,
Then he brings himself to be seen
And beholds a more beautiful image of himself.
But if he leaves that image, although it is beautiful,
And he goes completely back into himself,
Without perceiving any separation,
Then all is at once one with that divinity,
Who came in all silence,
And he is one with it as far as he can and will.
But if he turns again to duality,
Then, if he remains pure,
In his nearest nearness,
So that in the above manner
He can unite with it again,
If he turns to it again.
In turning to it he has this gain:
At first he becomes aware of himself
As long as he is another;
But penetrating within, he has the whole,
And opening his gaze backwards
For fear of divisiveness, he is always there,
And when he desires to look at something as another,
He puts himself out of himself.
But whoever wants to learn this
Must study the same in everlasting research
As in an outline exactly,
And having learned wherein he sinks
And hath persuaded himself
That he is immersed in an object worthy of praise,
He must now immerse himself completely in the interior
And instead of looking, become the vision of another,
Radiant as he comes from thence
In pure thought.
Meanwhile, how can anyone be in beauty
Without seeing it?
Well, as long as he sees it as another,
He is not yet in beauty,
But when he has become it,
Then he is most in beauty, just so.
If beauty now goes to an exterior,
Then the sight must be no other,
Than that which is one with the object seen;
But this is, as it were, a becoming within
And feeling of itself,
Combined with shyness,
That in striving to see more
One falls away from oneself.
But one must also consider this,
That the sensations of evil
Leave greater impressions,
But lesser knowledge,
Which are then, as it were, beaten out by the impression.
For the disease gives more of an abrupt impression,
But health, which dwelleth quietly with us,
A quiet understanding of itself,
For she dwells with us as our housemate
And becomes one with us;
But she is something strange and not native
And thereby wholly perceptible,
That she always seems to us something else;
But that which is peculiar to us is ourselves,
We are not aware of it.
But if we are as stated above,
We are of all men most conscious of ourselves,
By bringing into unity the knowledge of ourselves
And ourselves into one unity.
Up there, however, when we are most
According to reason and conceptual knowledge,
We think we know not,
By being pointed to the impression of an inner sense,
Which thinks it has not seen;
For he has not seen
And should never see such things.
The distrust, then, is the sensual feeling,
But the other, the spirit, is the one who sees;
Or if he also should distrust,
Then he should not believe in his own existence,
For indeed he can be in itself
Like a visible object,
But cannot see itself with the bodily eye.

XII

But it is said how someone can do this as another

And as himself can do this.
So then, when he has seen,
Whether as another, or as himself,
What does he report?
Well, that he has seen a deity,
Who circled with a beautiful son
And in himself produced all things
And that without the pangs of birth;
For glad of her offspring
And full of admiration for her children
She carries everything within her
And rejoices in her own
And over her children's beauty;
But he, while beautiful and ever more beautiful,
Who abides in him,
He alone of the others came forth as a son.
In him as the last child
Is also to be seen as in a mirror image,
How great the father
And the brothers remaining with the father are.
But he does not claim in vain to have left the father,
For now there is another world
Which has become beautiful as an image of the beautiful,
Nor is it contrary to all right,
That the image of the beautiful
And of being is not beautiful.
So he imitates the archetype in all things.
For he also has life
And being as imitation,
Likewise beauty as coming from there;
He also has eternal duration as an image,
Or shall he have the image now, now not,
Since the image is not produced by art?
But it is indeed an image by nature,
Inasmuch as the original image remains.
Therefore those are wrong,
Who, while the visible world remains,
While the invisible remains,
For transitory
And regard do not see their generation
As having come from the Creator's counsel.
For the nature of such a creation
They do not want to understand, nor do they know,
That so far as that one shines
Nor does the other ever cease,
But that this one has the same origin as that one;
For it was and will be eternal.
In the meantime, we must necessarily use these terms,
If we are to make ourselves understood.

XIII

God, then, who is bound,

To remain always the same
And who ceded to his Son
The dominion over this universe -
For it was fitting for him
Who relinquished that dominion,
Not to seek a younger than himself, nor a later,
Being sated with beauty -
Having thus given up this,
He placed his own father above himself
And extended himself upwards to him;
Then again he ordered that,
Which from the son had already begun
To pass over to an otherness,
To exist after him.
Thus he stepped between the two,
Once, by his otherness,.
He has torn himself away from above,
Then by keeping himself free from the fetters
That pulls him down to what is after him:
He stands between a better father
And a lesser son.
But since his father is greater
He could be called beautiful,
So he himself remained originally beautiful,
Though beautiful also is the soul;
But he is more beautiful also than this,
Because it is a trace of itself,
And thus it is indeed beautiful in its nature,
But still more beautiful when it sees there.
If now the world soul,
To use a more familiar word,
If Aphrodite herself is beautiful,
Who is that?
PART VIII

THE WORKS OF VENUS

CHAPTER I

FIGURIS VENERIS

An altar. On the altar stands the naked boy Cupid, white wings on his shoulders, short blond curls, a
burning torch in his right hand. With his left arm he embraces his mother Venus. Venus is
completely naked and sits with her bottom on the altar, looking up at Cupid and approaching him to
kiss him. She has long reddish-blonde curls and a blue ribbon in her hair. She is perhaps nineteen
years old. Her mouth is kissable and rosy red. Her breasts are large but not ample. Her pubic
triangle forms the centre of the whole scene. Down in front of the altar, like an icon, is a picture.
Two naked women are in the picture. The left one stands upright and raises her arms to her head, a
silk robe rustles down her lower legs, it resembles white sea foam. The woman has long red-blond
curls. The other woman on the right is completely naked, has long black hair and kneels in front of
the first woman, kissing her belly under her breasts. The kneeling woman's black hair is also
between her thighs. In the background of the two women is a bed with a bright red bed canopy
above it. To the right and left of the altar are two nude figures. Seen from the viewer to the right of
the altar is a kneeling satyr with hairy legs of a goat, naked man's upper body and full bearded
man's head with dark blond short curls and a pair of horns of a goat. In his left hand he holds a pan
flute and with his right hand he raises a bunch of grapes towards the womb of Venus. On the left
side of the altar a mermaid, a nymph with a long green fish tail, small firm girl's breasts, free-
fluttering golden blond curls. In her right hand she holds a large shell in the shape of a vulva, with
her left hand she gives Venus a colourful wreath of flowers. Her eyes look rapturously at the Cupid-
boy.

II

A bedroom, dark walls, with the white bedspread on the bed standing out. Above the bed is a pink
canopy. A young woman stands on the long side of the bed, her upper body resting on the bed. She
wears blond straight hair and a light blue headband. Her wise tender eyes are turned towards the
viewer. Her round bottom offers itself to the naked man standing upright behind her bottom. He is a
young man of perhaps twenty-four, about a year older than the naked beloved. He has no hair on his
chest. His main hair short, dark curls with a white headband. His pubic hair is dark and curly. His
testicles powerful, his penis is horizontal, quite straight, white, the glans is bright red and touches
his beloved's anus. Behind the man, on a pedestal, stands a small golden statue of Cupid. Cupid
leans on his bow, has the quiver at his right hip, wings at his shoulders, he thoughtfully puts the
index finger of his right hand to his mouth.

III

A bedroom. Background a dark brown wall. On the left, red curtains hang from the ceiling to the
floor. The bed fills the whole room. Behind the foot of the bed a column rises, on it a figure
representing the raised phallus with testicles. At the head end, leaning against the golden lattice, is a
light blue cushion with red meanderings on the edge. On the white sheet a pair of lovers embracing.
The lovers are about twenty-four years. The woman lies down, the man lies on top of the woman.
She lets her left arm fall down, she has raised her legs and embraces the man's hips with them. The
man kneels in front of the woman, he stretches his upper body over the woman's torso without
weighing her down and embraces her hips with his arms, supporting himself at the same time. His
pelvis is right in front of her pelvis and his phallus is inside her vulva, though not fully sunk. The
woman has her eyes closed and looks as if in blissful enjoyment. The man looks full of love, full of
admiration at the pretty face of his beloved.

IV

Dark bedroom. A wide bed, at the head end a wide light green pillow, then a white sheet. To the left
of the bed, a red curtain hangs from the ceiling and falls on a plain wooden chair that seems to tip
over. At the foot of the bed on the floor is a wide bowl, a basin, on one foot, and a jug in the shape
of a vase. On the bed lies a young woman, naked, short brown hair, her right arm stretched upwards
above her head. At the foot of the bed is a young man, naked, dark short hair with a red and white
headband, a hint of beard shadow on his cheeks. He wears red sandals on his feet. The woman
wears blue sandals. The woman spreads her legs. She lifts her right leg up to the man's left shoulder,
the man clasps her knee with his left hand. The woman's left leg is also spread, but lying
horizontally on the man's right hand. As the woman's legs are spread, her sex is exposed to the
viewer's eyes. There are the dark curls of pubic hair and the bright red labia. The woman's vagina is
penetrated by the man's phallus. The man appears in athletic strength, the woman in laughing
rapture.

Bedroom. The long and wide bed fills the whole room. At the head end, a red curtain falls from the
ceiling. At the foot end, next to the bed, is a sculpture representing a tree without leaves, the branch
with a pine cone on it suggesting a penis and a second wider trunk below with its tree cavity
suggesting the vulva. Behind the bed is a wide large bronze basin on four legs. Above the bed an oil
lamp hovers from the ceiling. On the bed a white sheet. At the head end a red and gold velvet
pillow. At the foot end lies a fine pink bedspread. Stretched out on the bed is a naked man, perhaps
thirty years old, with short dark hair, straight, and a short-cropped dark full beard. His head is
resting on the pillow. He is completely calm and relaxed. Above him kneels a naked woman, short
blond hair with a light blue headband. Her breasts are small and firm. She is leaning on the bed with
her right hand and touching the man's right shoulder with her left. Her pelvis is a short distance
above his pelvis. You can clearly see how the strong phallus rises upright from his dark curly pubic
hair and how the vulva in the midst of her dark curly pubic hair pushes itself onto his phallus. It
seems as if the woman alone is moving and riding the man by raising and lowering her pelvis and
thus arousing lust.

VI

A parlour. On the left is a marble pedestal with a picture of the little naked Cupid boy. To the left
and right of Cupid two peacocks, male and female. Cupid raises his arms and wears a wreath of
flowers on his hands. On the base is a flower bowl with an arrangement of bright red and yellow-
white flowers. Behind the plinth is a dark brown curtain. On the wall is a wooden shelf, on it
various vases and goblets, both of the slender elongated form of the male and the round bulbous
form of the female. On the right edge a stove smokes. In front of the stove is a golden resting bench
with a purple velvet cushion and a long and wide white sheet over it. A young naked woman is lying
on the bench as if poured into it, her left arm resting on the purple velvet cushion and her right arm
on her head. Her hair is dark blond, almost brunette. On her upper arms and wrists she wears clasps
of copper. On her feet she wears red sandals. Her left leg is on the ground and her right leg is on the
left shoulder of the man, who is kneeling on the ground in front of the woman's lap, his left knee on
the ground, his right knee bent. He is wearing blue canvas shoes, otherwise he is naked. His brown
hair is short and straight. He wears a red headband. The beardless man and the naked woman are
perhaps nineteen years. She offers him all of her hairy pubis and he tenderly caresses her inner and
outer labia and clitoris with a patient and wet tongue. This is called cunnilingus, because cunnus
means vagina and lingua means licking with the tongue. The woman enjoys it in supreme blissful
delight and rapture in a heavenly peace. The man is very concentrated and attentive to give the
woman the sweetest pleasure.

VII

A spacious balcony or terrace. In the background a lake and a white city with a marble-white Greek
temple. An imposing basin stands in front of the balcony parapet. A column of marble separates the
view of the city from the brown wall with a green curtain that creates an interior space. An armchair
stands there, purple draperies casually thrown over it. A young naked man sits on a plain wooden
chair. His dark blond hair is short, he wears a red headband. He opens his strong legs slightly. His
phallus and testicles peek out from his hairy pubic region. His young beloved sits in front of him.
She is completely naked and sits on a lambskin rug with a shapely bottom and her legs drawn up.
She supports herself with her left arm. Her right hand tenderly holds the man's erected penis. Her
brunette hair is pinned up in a knot. With her soft moist lips and warm wet tongue she encloses the
man's phallus. With her tongue she plays around the glans and with her mouth she sucks on the
penis. The man is lost in supreme bliss and heavenly peace.

VIII

A public hall. In the background are open gateways. Next to a column are two naked women in the
postures known from ancient statues of Venus. One shows the whole naked front view of the divine
woman, the other the whole naked back view. In the foreground are three wide steps. On the steps,
comfortably reclined, is a group of five naked people. A naked man, perhaps forty years old, with
short dark blond hair and a short beard, sits in the middle. He spreads his legs. His penis is sticking
up. Between his thighs sits a young girl, perhaps sixteen years. She has long straight black hair that
falls to her shoulders. She spreads her young slender legs wide so that the young folds of her vagina
are clearly visible. She places her right hand tenderly on the man's left thigh. She has put her small
mouth completely over the man's phallus in order to suck and give the man the greatest pleasure.
She has closed her eyes, he is watching her very attentively. Behind him sits a young woman of
perhaps eighteen, black hair parted in the middle, she raises her eyes upwards laughing happily, for
the man lets his left arm rest on her naked upper body and touches the young girl's clitoris with the
little finger of his hand. In front of the man, one step down, sits a young girl. Her head is near the
man's penis, as if waiting to relieve the fellatio-driving girl. Laughing and happy, she turns her face
towards the viewer, but also her wide taut bottom. Between the sixteen-year-old girl blowing the
man's flute and the young girl offering us her plump bottom, the fourth girl lies on the stone step,
with her back on the stone. Her head, however, is between the thighs of the girl with the wide
bottom, just below her pelvis. With a small bright red tongue she licks the vagina of the girl with the
wide pelvis. Fellatio and cunnilingus make everyone happy, they laugh with shining eyes.
IX

A young naked man sits upright on a white bed. Next to him is a harp. In front of him is a large
vase. He looks up at a life-size erotic mural. In the blue sky of the south white clouds float, on the
clouds naked beautiful women and men. A woman lies across the man's feet, showing her perfect
back and bottom, her hand raised to the man's knee as he sits on a higher cloud. Over his naked
man-limb a second naked woman bends in voluptuous fullness and puts her wet mouth on the man's
phallus, and licking with her tongue and sucking with her mouth she gives him sweet pleasure. Next
to the man, who sits relaxed in pleasure, a naked man lies on the cloud, his phallus rising vertically.
A naked woman swings her pelvis over the man's pelvis and is about to put her warm moist vulva
on his hot stiff phallus. A fourth naked woman sits next to her, waiting for her turn. The young man
looking at the erotic mural calmly takes his man-limb in his right hand and arouses himself. In his
imagination he takes part in the copulation. He makes love to his dream woman during solitary
masturbation.

The poetress Sappho can be seen here. The scene is on a beach. Rocks rise above the sand. In the
blue sea, mermaids with naked torsos and fish tails are making love. One mermaid tilts her mouth
towards the other mermaid's vagina. A sea god and a nymph are in an intimate love embrace. On the
other side of the sea, a white ancient temple of the lesbian goddess Aphrodite can be seen. But
leaning against the rocks of the beach is the naked Sappho. In her right hand she holds her seven-
stringed lyre, entwined with red roses. She spreads her arms wide and spreads her slender white legs
wide. Her face is radiant with the peace of the most serene happiness, for between her thighs sits her
girlfriend, a young beautiful girl of perhaps nineteen, of perfect beauty, touching with her rosy lips
the black frizzy pubic hair of the holy Sappho.

XI

A bedroom. On the brown wall in the background is the representation of the great goddess,
standing on a chariot, drawn by two mythical creatures. Next to the picture on the left is the
entrance to the bedroom, veiled by a green curtain. The curtain is parted by a young naked
gentleman, beautiful like Adonis, everything about him powerful, including his penis. On the bed in
the bedroom lie the two sisters Ohola and Oholiba. Ohola lies downstairs completely naked,
stretched out, smiling, happy. Her long dark hair falls over the green velvet pillow on the purple
wild silk bedspread. Oholiba, also completely naked, with short brunette hair and a white headband,
sits with her lap on her sister's lap. Something is missing between them. Oholiba bends her upper
body onto the upper body of the sister Ohola and clasps the sister's full white breasts with her right
hand. The young naked lord who is coming will give his two brides strong pleasure and they will
make every effort to satisfy their lord.

XII

The dark bedroom is completely filled by the bed. In front lies a chair that has fallen over. In the
background is a pillar on which stands a bowl of smoking incense. A red bed canopy is raised. A
naked sister is leaning against the column with the bowl of incense. Her hair is black and pinned up,
held together by a light blue ribbon. Her breasts are not too big, not too small, but firm. Her dark
pubic triangle is hairy, but not voluptuous. Over her arms falls the faintest suggestion of a garment,
namely a transparent gauze veil, but it hides nothing of her delicious nakedness. She watches
attentively the lovers on the bed. The young gentleman, the well-built Adonis, is stretched out on a
white sheet, his head with the short dark blond hair and the red headband resting on a red and a
green velvet pillow. The other naked sister is kneeling on his lap, but in such a way that she turns
her magnificent bottom towards him. With his left hand he touches her left buttock. But she squats
with her vulva on his phallus and slides calmly up and down. She supports herself with her arms on
the bed. The young gentleman and the lustful sister have closed their eyes and are enjoying the
friction of the phallus inside the vulva in blissful peace, in relaxed tension.

XIII

This seems to be a harem according to the prophet's vision from heaven. In the foreground on the
left lies a naked virgin huri, her breasts firm and pointed, her body slender, absorbed in dream as if
from a hashish intoxication, leaning against a velvet cushion. Beside her outstretched white slender
legs, a young slender huri lies as if poured out on the marble floor, her golden tide of hair flowing in
curls to the floor. Her eyes are closed, her countenance glistening in the pleasure of blissful peace.
Her breasts are round and firm. Her right hand is tenderly at the navel of her belly, which is flat and
firm. Her slender long legs are spread and bent. The dark curly pubic hair of the huri receives the
head of a worshipper who, deeply immersed in the huri's womb, licks the huri's moist cunnus with
his tongue. The same lovemaking is enjoyed by another naked virgin huri who sits on a block of
marble and bends her upper body far back, enjoying what is happening to her womb, to which she
puts the fingers of her right hand, with closed eyes and a blissful glow of rapture on her face. While
she fiddles with her clitoris with her fingertips, a young believer, beautiful like a seventeen-year-old
Jussuf, sits in front of her, spreading his legs, his penis staring out with its glowing red glans. But he
sticks out his tongue to lick the outer and inner labia of the huri. In the middle of the harem of the
huris is a marble divan on which a worshipper and a voluptuous huri are copulating. The naked huri
lies on her right side and turns her heavenly bottom towards the hero of faith. He kneels in front of
the huri's magnificent bottom and thrusts from behind and below with his never-wearied boner into
the huri's eternally tightly built vagina. An image of a god stands in the huri harem, perhaps
representing the lone monotheistic god Amon of the Egyptians, who created the world while
masturbating. The god of stone is a strong mature man standing erect, horizontally his phallus
protrudes from him. A beautiful naked huri girl swings her pelvis at the stone phallus of the god and
rides the phallus, satisfying herself on the monotheistic god of solitary masturbation. In the
background a celestial huri can be seen bending over so far that the apple of her adorable bottom
alone appears. The strong man of god and well-built witness of faith stands behind the very bottom
of the huri and penetrates from behind the moist warm vulva of the huri with the beautiful bottom.

XIV

We are back in the bedroom of the young naked Lord Adonis with the two naked sisters Ohola and
Oholiba. It could also be the naked King Solomon with the two demonesses Lilith and Karina. A
wide bed of love fills the room. Comfortably leaning against a white pillow lies the one sister with
the short dark blond hair. Next to the bed stands young Lord Adonis, kneeling with his right knee on
the sheet. He looks at his fingernails to see if they are clean. Gods can still create worlds from the
dirt under their fingernails. His mentula is erect and stares upwards, his glowing red glans is well
supplied with blood. The naked sister on the bed tenderly and lovingly embraces the man's phallus
with the fingers of her right hand and begins to caress it with all her patience. The other naked sister
with the black tied-up hair and the perfectly chiselled body stands behind Lord Adonis and admires,
as women like to do, the man's bottom, which is round and firm. With her right hand she holds a rod
made of birch twigs and seems to feel like slapping her brother's bottom.
XV

A portico. In the background a marble column on which is a statue representing either Venus or the
archaic Magna Mater. A beardless beautiful youth is together with three divine virgins. The largest
of the three divine virgins is sitting in a chair completely relaxed and stretching out her legs, her
thighs slightly apart. The second divine virgin kneels in front of the first divine virgin, supporting
herself with arms and knees, her head against the vulva of the enthroned virgin, licking the virgin's
cunnus with her tongue. Below this kneeling and licking virgin, the third divine virgin lies stretched
out devotedly on the marble floor on a snow-white sheet. With arms raised, she embraces the
second divine virgin, her luminous moon-white eyes raised to the lap of the enthroned virgin, for
her sex is directly over the face of the third divine virgin. The gifted favourite of the three divine
virgins kneels between the legs of the two reclining virgins and penetrates the tight vulva of the
second divine virgin from behind with all tender care.

CHAPTER II

DEVA AND DEVI

A young naked god stands erected, raising both arms above his head. His upper body can be seen
from the side, but his face is turned towards the viewer. In front of him, a naked goddess sits on the
ground. With her arms she embraces the pelvis of the god. She presses her ball-shaped breasts
against his knees. With her mouth she embraces the phallus of the god. The god and the goddess
unite in what the Kama Sutra calls the mouth union.

II

The mighty god sits on his stone throne. His face is masculine, bearded, wrinkles on his forehead.
Around his neck he wears a string of pearls, the rosary. He spreads his legs. On his lap sits his
beloved, the goddess. Her pelvis is wide. His phallus enters her vulva steeply from below. He
embraces her splayed thighs with his powerful hands, she embraces his upper body with her arms.
They look at each other face to face. Their eyes laugh with happiness and their lips approach for a
kiss. The goddess wears a large earring in the shape of a spiral on her ear.

III

The god stands upright. His eyes are large almond eyes, his mouth smiling. In front of him is the
goddess, standing, bending forward so far that her hands touch the ground. On her wrists she wears
many clasps. The god lovingly places his hands on the goddess' bottom. His horizontal phallus
penetrates the goddess' anus from behind. She turns her face upwards and looks contentedly at the
god's phallus.

IV
The god with a male beard on the ground. To his right and left lie two celestial women pressing
their breasts against him. Above the god squats the goddess. She has long hair, braided curls. Her
body is lustfully shaped by feminine curves. With her left hand she touches the youthfully beautiful
breast of the one beautiful girl in the sky. Her broad pelvis with its taut bottom is directly above the
pelvis of the god. His phallus standing up vertically, the goddess thrusts her vulva onto the god's
hard phallus and slides slippery up and down. Her face is attentive but relaxed to the copulation of
phallus and vulva.

The young goddess is in the foreground. Her body is perfect. Her breasts are large and round, but
firm. Around her neck she wears small chains. Chains hang between her breasts. Her hips are
narrow, her pelvis wide. Around her pelvis she wears an imposing belt, between her thighs the belt
falls down. Her left arm is raised, her left hand intertwines with the right hand of the right arm
above her head. Behind her stands the young god, his round arm wrapped around her hip and his
index finger touching her pubis. His left arm embraces her upper body and feels the taut perfect
breasts. They turn their faces to each other but do not look into each other's eyes, their lips are close
and have great desire to kiss.

VI

The goddess stands upright, her right leg straight on the ground, her left leg slightly splayed so that
her pubic is exposed. Her breasts are enormous and firm. Around her neck she wears strings of
pearls, on her ears large circular earrings. Her right hand is raised in blessing. The god kneels before
the adorable goddess. The god wears strings of pearls around his ankles, wrists, neck and hips. With
his mouth he kisses the goddess' pubis, with his tongue he licks the labia and the clitoris of the
goddess. He has his eyes closed, she looks down at him attentively from above to see if he is doing
well.

VII

A scene of male and female celestials. On the left the celestial seems to want to leave, his erect
penis stares obliquely upwards. His right arm is raised above his head. To his right is a celestial
standing on both feet, but bending her upper body forward so that she can take the celestial's phallus
into her mouth and give him pleasure by sucking and licking it. But as she leans forward like this,
she offers her taut round buttocks to another celestial standing to her right. The latter stands upright,
clasps the belly of the bending celestial with his hands and penetrates the celestial from behind with
his phallus from diagonally above. Next to this celestial stands another male celestial on the right,
back to back with the other. He raises his arms in the air. In front of him a female celestial is
standing on her head, her feet sticking up. But he penetrates the vulva directly opposite him with his
strong horizontal phallus. Next to this upside-down celestial is another female celestial standing
upright, raising her arms aloft, her womb like the chalice of a lotus flower, waiting for the divine
jewel of an approaching god.

VIII

The strong god stands upright, both legs firmly on the ground. With all his might and strength he
carries the beloved goddess in such a way that he embraces her with his arms at the thighs, while
she puts her lower legs and feet over his shoulders and hangs down with her body, head down, in
front of the god's body. Thus the goddess offers her vulva openly to the god, who bends his head
towards her with the intention of licking her clitoris and labia with his tongue. But the head of the
goddess, hanging downwards, turns towards the phallus of the god. With her right hand she plays
with the god's twin testicles and approaches the god's phallus with her mouth. So while he licks the
cunnus of the goddess with his tongue, the goddess sucks the divine phallus of the god with her
mouth, and both are very satisfied.

PART IX

ANTIC TEXTS

Full of melancholy, the goddess Venus sank into Diona's womb,

The mother embraced the divine daughter,
Caressed her most tenderly and began to speak,
Who ill-treated thee, O daughter, who of the gods
Has mistreated you as if you had committed a sin?
Then the divine Venus spoke with a lovely smile,
I was struck by Diomedes, the proud knight of war,
Because I carried from the battle Aeneas, the offspring of Venus,
Whom I love most of all mortal men.
Smiling, the heavenly father of gods and men heard it.
And he called the goddess to him and said to Venus,
Daughter of God, do not worry about the works of war,
Worry rather about the sweet works of the bed,
For the wars are already taken care of by Mars and Minerva.

II

Once in her womb the goddess of the earth sighed

And thought of cunning arts.
And so she made a product of grey-blue steel,
Made a mighty sickle, taught the children,
Encouraging her children, for the goddess was angry,
My children and children of your cruel father,
You shall obey me, so we will avenge ourselves on the father,
Avenge all the insults he has done to us!
Then fear seized the children and none of them
Said a word, only the thinking Cronos said
Full of courage and anger to his exalted mother,
Mother, I consent, I would like to complete
This work, I am not sad for my maker,
Who did so much harm to me, my terrible father.
When he said this, the goddess of the earth rejoiced greatly,
She hid the son and gave him the sickle in her hand
And she taught him wise arts and secret wiles.
Then the mighty father came and brought the night,
Full of lustful desire, he embraced the goddess of the earth.
From the safe hiding place with his hands Cronos
Reached for the sickle and scythed the mighty father
Of the heavens his genitals and threw them down.
Then the genitals fell down to the earth,
From the bloody drops the earth begat giants,
Begetting terrible furies, vengeful terrible goddesses!
But from the blood also arose the melic nymphs!
But when the son cut off the genitals
And the penis and testicles of the father fell into the water,
The penis and testicles floated for a long time on the waves.
Then white foam rose up on the penis of the manly god.
And from the foam blossomed an all too lovely girl,
Who first approached Cythera's sacred island
And from Cythera she came to sea-girdled Cyprus.
There the beautiful holy goddess rose to the shore
And grasses sprouted beneath her tender feet.
Gods and men call her foam-born goddess
And with her is little Cupid in all her ways,
When, naked from the foam of the sea, she ascended
To the Olympian gods, and this is her divine heritage:
Flattering words of beautiful women, most charming smiles,
Sweet lust and hot embrace and arts of love!

III

Venus, the beautiful, the golden crowned, the pure,

Venus I sing, queen of her island kingdom of Cyprus.
Thither she carried the light breeze of the whispering west wind
Over the billow of the rushing sea in the whitish foam.
The holy hours embraced her, full of quiet joy
And they put on her the most beautiful transparent silk,
Crowned the head of the goddess with a golden crown,
Adorned her earlobes with the most sparkling silver earrings,
Her slender neck and her snow-white breasts
They adorned with golden chains, as they themselves wear them,
That's why they're called the golden-chained Hours,
When they appear in their father's house for a lovely belly dance.
When they adorned the goddess with many a shining jewel,
The hours led the goddess to the heavenly gods.
Each of the gods saw her and extended a friendly hand,
All marvelled at the beauty of the Goddess of Beauty,
Each desired her as a bride in his own bed!
Hail, O Venus, flatterer with the beguiling looks,
Give victory to my anthem in the contest of poets,
Eternal shall thy fame resound in my songs.

IV
Behold this beautiful image!
A master hand has painted the seas
Blue on white canvas.
What a rapturous genius
Who painted this white
Venus on the blue sea,
The goddess of all gods!
Naked he shows her to the eyes,
Only what is too intimate in her,
The white wave veils.
Like the swaying lotus flower
She floats on the blue sea,
Leaning against the high waves
She floats through the surge of the spray.
Above her taut breasts,
Beneath her slender neck,
A high wave divides.
In the middle of the Mediterranean
Venus shines like a lily among violets.
On the silver tides,
On swimming dolphins
Teasing erotica, cunning
Smiling at the folly of men.
A flock of curved fishes
Roll over in the floods,
Jesting around the goddess's body,
Who smilingly swims in the sea.

Now a herald came and brought with him the sounding harp
For the singer Demodokos. He stepped proudly into the midst
And the flowering boys around him, the glorious dancers,
And with floating feet the blooming boys floated away.
And Ulysses saw the dancing feet in admiration.
The harp rustled sweetly, then the singer sang the hymn,
The master sang the love of Mars and the divine Venus,
How they both, in Vulcans' glorious dwelling,
Secretly united! Much love the god gave to his goddess
And stained the marriage bed of the fire lord.
But Sol, the sun god, brought the message to Vulcan,
Who saw the god and goddess mating in secret.
When Vulcan heard the sungod's grievous words,
He hastened to the forge and plotted his spiteful revenge,
Set up the anvil and forged golden chains,
To bind forever the adulterous gods.
Now that he had finished his wicked work in anger,
He went into the bedroom where the marriage bed shone,
Around the posts of the bed he tightened the golden fetters,
Some he let hang high from the vault of the room
Delicate as spider webs that not even gods behold,
All too delicately woven were the golden fetters.
Mars did not pass away, the muscular hero in the wars,
When he heard the blacksmith Vulcan was going away.
Mars rushed impetuously to the dwelling of the fire lord,
Entranced by his desire for the divine Venus.
Venus had just returned from the almighty Father in Heaven
And was sitting in her comfortable armchair.
Mars entered the flat and kissed the hand of his goddess.
And he spoke in an amorous voice to the beloved,
Come, beloved, to bed! We want to make love!
Vulcan is not at home, he is with the barbarians.
This spake Mars, and to Venus the speech was welcome.
And they mounted the bed and lay side by side.
Then the two clasped the golden bonds of Vulcan
And they could no longer move their limbs.
Only now did they realise that they could no longer escape.
And there stepped to them the limping fire lord,
Stood in the house with a soul full of despair,
Silent he stood in the hall, and full of jealousy he cried,
Father Jupiter and ye other immortal gods,
Come and see the fornication, see the adultery, only see,
How me limping fellow the daughter of God has reviled
And embraced the god of war just because he is beautiful,
Shapely of body, but I am a cripple!
Woe is me! Would that my parents had never begotten me!
Look how these two in my own bed
Lying lasciviously in languishing lust and making love!
Ah, my heart bursts to pieces at this sight!
But in the future they will no longer lie together like this,
However forlorn they may be, they shall not covet again,
To lie together like this in my own bed!
For I hold them tightly in my golden bonds,
Till my Father in heaven give me back all the gifts
Which I gave as a bridegroom for his divine whore!
Venus is beautiful, even lovely, but full of sin in her heart!
Thus spake Vulcan. Then the gods hastened to the dwelling,
Neptune came, the blue-locked one, Mercury too,
Who guides the dead, Apollo the archer came,
But the chaste goddesses remained in their chambers.
In the hall of the flat stood the givers of good,
The gods stood and laughed their Olympian laughter!
And one god spoke to another god:
Evil bears no fruit! The slow catches the swift,
Thus Vulcan, the lame, caught Mars, the swift,
By art alone. Now Mars, who broke the marriage, atones for it.
These things said the celestial gods among themselves.
But the distant god Apollo to Mercury said,
O Mercury, son of Maja, attendant of the dead,
Wouldst thou like to be bound in this way
And to attend in bed the holy Venus?
Mercury, the guide of the dead, replied to him,
Ah, that would be too good, far-fetched archer Apollo,
If I were bound with three times as many golden shackles
And the gods would see me and the goddesses likewise,
Behold, I would love to sleep with the lovely Venus!
Mercury said this, and the Olympian gods laughed aloud.
And Vulcan loosed from the bed the golden bonds,
And the god and goddess, unchained,
Leapt powerfully from the bed. The god of war escaped.
Venus went to Cyprus, the girlfriend of the most charming smile,
Entered the sacred grove of Paphos, stepped to the altar,
Where the priestesses offer incense to Venus,
Where the graces washed the naked Venus in the bath.
And they anointed her with ambrosial perfumed anointing oil
And they clothed her with the most beautiful transparent dress!
This was the hymn of the famous Demodokos. Heartily
Ulysses rejoiced in the sacred hymn.

VI

To whom on earth is not known the beautiful story,

How Vulcan, full of cunning, captured Venus and Mars?
Mars was terribly tormented by strong desire for Venus,
He, usually a knight of war, was defeated by Cupid!
Venus was gladly at his beck and call, the willing goddess,
None of the other goddesses was ever so willing as she!
Often with Mars she mocked the limping feet
Of her lame husband, who lived only of labour,
Before her lover she imitated the limping husband,
But the limping woman herself was still full of divine charm!
But only secretly did Mars and Venus make sensual love,
Secrecy covered the act of their union.
But through Sol's treachery Vulcan learned of the consort's
Love-sports. Who ever deceives the radiant Sol?
Why didst thou do this, O Sol? For divine graces
Ask of the divine, graces she gladly grants!
Around Venus' bed Vulcan now wove snares,
Invisible to all sight, even the celestials see keenly.
The barbarians he would visit, said Vulcan,
Mars and Venus, completely naked, lovingly united.
Then the two lovers were caught by the lord of fire
In the artificial work he wove around the bed.
Now he called the gods and showed the lovers to all,
Venus, says the poet, almost wept with rage!
With her hands the goddess of beauty covered her face,
But not her breasts, nor her womb!
Smiling, many a friend of the gods might say here,
If you don't want the chains, Mars, give them to me!
I would gladly be tied up, smiled at by the gods,
If I were in bed with Venus, to make love with her!
Vulcan freed them from the bonds,
Mars hastened away, and Venus also escaped,
She escaped to Cyprus, to the sacred groves.
What good has that done to you, fool Vulcan? For now
The god and goddess make free love in public.
Without chastity and shame, publicly they love each other!
Often must you now curse, Vulcan, how foolishly you have acted,
And you have long regretted your folly.

VII

Adonis was the son of Smyrna. The latter did not honour the divine Venus, so the punishment of the
goddess fell upon Smyrna, so that she slept with her own father for twelve nights without the father
knowing with whom he slept. But when he discovered it on the thirteenth night, he pursued his
daughter and wanted to kill her. Smyrna asked the gods to save her. Then the gods transformed
Smyrna into the myrrh tree. Nine moons later the myrrh split and Adonis saw the light of day. Venus
saw the child, and because it was so radiantly beautiful, the goddess hid the child in a rush basket,
stuck together with pitch, and gave it to Core. But when Core discovered little Adonis, who was so
beautiful, she wanted him all to herself. The two goddesses Venus and Core fought over Adonis,
which one could have him. Then Jupiter, the father of gods and men, decided that Adonis should
live a third of his life alone, a third of his life together with Core, and a third of his life with Venus.
But Adonis renounced solitude and added his own time to Venus' time.

VIII

In the myrrh tree the boy, conceived in fornication,

Ripened and sought the way, leaving the mother Myrrha,
That he might come to the light. The womb swelled in the middle of the tree,
The mother had no words for all her pain,
Yet the myrrh tree does like the woman in labor and
Quivering with the pain of labour, and uttering many a terrible cry.
And the tree split open and from the bark
The boy came out alive. His first sound was a cry.
Beautiful he was like the little naked god of love,
If only he had the bow and arrow and quiver.
But imperceptibly the winged time slips away, it deceives us!
Nothing is over quicker than the passing of years,
One minute he was a cute little kid,
Then a teasing boy, and already he's youthful,
And already he is a young man of radiant beauty.
Already Venus has fallen completely in love for the man:
Cupid has wounded the bosom of the divine Venus!
Now inflamed by the handsome young man, she forgets
Her sacred groves on the islands of the sea,
She no longer visits Cyprus, she no longer visits Knidos,
But Adonis draws her before even Olympian skies!
Venus clings to Adonis like a sticky limpet,
Venus follows Adonis like a bitch follows a shepherd,
Always she wants to rest with him in the shade of the trees,
To nurse his manly beauty with anointing oil,
And she goes with him through the woods and fields of summer,
Untrammelled by the long robe, but in the shortest skirt,
She hunts with her hounds for stags with high antlers,
But she warns Adonis of the wolves and bears,
But she warns Adonis of the lions and boars:
These wild boars I hate most hotly, said she!
After the warning she drove quickly away through the air
In the shell chariot drawn by snow-white swans.
But Adonis did not heed the divine warning,
His dogs pounced on the boar, the wild boar,
And the boar thrusts its tusks into the side of Adonis,
In his side and falls him down, fatally struck!
Venus had not yet reached Cyprus on her flying chariot,
When she heard from afar Adonis' dying gasp!
Venus steered her swan team from the heights of the ether
To the dying man who lay wriggling in his own blood!
Venus tore her gossamer dress, ruffled her mane,
And beat her breasts in lamentation and raged at her fate!
Dead is Adonis! But let it remain a monument of mourning,
From the crimson blood shall grow the crimson rose!
Adonis, your death shall be celebrated yearly as a festival,
Let the people and the mourners weep for thee yearly!
But you live as a red rose, the flower of love,
For love is immortal, love is infinite!
Great is infinity, greater the love of Venus!

PART X

THE GODDESS OF LOVE

PRAISE OF ISHTAR

She is clothed with pleasure

And with sex clothed.
She is laden with vitality,
Charm and lust.
Her lips are sweet,
Life is in her mouth.
At her entrance
Resounds with cheers.
She is glorious,
The veil thrown over her head.
Her form is beautiful,
Her eyes are brilliant.
The goddess -
With her there is good counsel.
The fate of all
She holds in her hand.
In her gaze is joy,
Power, splendour,
The guardian god and spirit
She has created.
She dwells within us,
Gives compassion and kindness.
She also has great understanding.
Is it a maid,
An unattached girl
Or a mother,
She preserves them.
One thing she demands,
To honour women in her name.
Who knows her greatness,
Who could be her equal?
Strong, sublime and glorious
Are her decrees.
Ishtar - her greatness,
Who could be like her?
Strong, sublime and glorious
Are her decrees.
She is sought among the gods;
Exceptional is her station.
Her word is kept,
It is supreme over her.
Ishtar among the gods,
Exceptional is her station.
Her word is kept,
It is supreme over her.

INVOCATION OF ISHTAR

O heroic Ishtar,
Immaculate,
One of the goddesses,
Torch of heaven and earth,
Radiance of the continents,
The goddess,
Queen of heaven,
Firstborn of the god Sin,
First born of Ningal,
Twin sister
Of the hero Shamash;
O Ishtar, you are Anu,
You rule the heavens;
With Enlil as your counsellor
Thou counsellest mankind;
The Word, the Creator
Of liturgies and rituals.
Where communion takes place,
Thou art attention,
You change the destinies
And a bad company becomes good;
I have sought thee among the gods;
Supplications are offered thee;
I have sought thee among the goddesses,
With the intention
To beseech thee,
Before you stands a protecting genius,
Behind thee stands a spirit,
On the right side
Is justice,
On the left side
Is goodness,
Firm on the head
Are audience, pleasure, peace,
Thy sides are
Embraced by life and well-being;
How good it is
To pray to thee,
How blessed,
To hear from thee!
Thy gaze is audience,
Thy utterance is light.
Have pity on me, O Ishtar!
Order me
A prosperous harvest!
Gaze upon me
In affirmation!
Accept my litany!
I have borne thy yoke!
Give me rest of soul!
I have sought thy brightness,
Now my face can be bright.
I have turned to thy dominion;
Now there can be life
And well-being for me.
May I have a favourable genius;
May I have a spirit
That ever follows thee.
May I reap
The prosperity
At thy right hand,
May I attain the favour
Of thy left hand.
Lengthen my days,
Give me long life,
Let me live,
Let me be good,
Let me proclaim your divinity.
Let me attain
What I desire.
HYMN TO INANNA

My father
Gave me heaven,
Gave me earth,
I am Inanna!
The kingship he gave me,
The kingship he gave me
In battle,
Which he gave me,
The attack he gave me,
The storm rain he gave me,
The hurricane he gave me!
The heavens he has set
Like a crown
On my head,
The earth he has placed
As sandals
On my feet,
A sacred robe he has wrapped
Around my body,
A sacred sceptre he placed
In my hand.
The gods are sparrows -
I am a hawk;
The Anunnaki flutter along -
I am a glorious
Wild cow;
I am for the father Enlil
The glorious wild cow,
His glorious wild cow
On the way!

PRAYER TO ISHTAR

To the queen of the gods,

To the queen of the gods
Into whose hands
We have placed ourselves
At the behest
Of the great gods,
To the Lady of Nineveh,
Queen of the gods,
The exalted One,
To the daughter
Of the moon god,
The twin sister
Of the sun god,
To the one who rules all kingdoms,
To the goddess of the world,
Who proclaims decrees,
To Our Lady
Of heaven and earth,
To her we beseech,
To the merciful goddess,
Who hears our supplications,
Who receives prayer,
Who loves justice,
I make my prayer to Ishtar,
For all confusion
Is a cause of sorrow.
The sufferings that I see
Wail before thee.
Incline thine ear
To my words
Of lamentation
And let thy heart
To my sad speech
Be opened.
Turn your face towards me,
O mistress,
So that from the bottom
The heart of thy servant
May be made strong!
I, Assur-Nasir,
The sad one,
Am thy humble servant,
I who am loved by thee,
Make thee an offering
And to thy dear divinity.
I am in the mountains,
Which no one knows;
I was there without understanding,
And I did not pray
To thy majesty.
Moreover the people
Of Assyria did not recognise
And did not accept
Thy divinity.
But thou, Ishtar,
Thou mighty queen of the gods,
By lifting up your eyes
Taught me,
For thou didst desire my order.
Thou didst take me from the mountains,
And made me the door
For my people.
And thou, Ishtar,
Have made great my name!
To those who are angry with me,
Grant forgiveness.
Let your anger be appeased,
And let thy heart
Be graciously inclined towards me.

HYMN TO APHRODITE

Daughter of Zeus,
Immortal Aphrodite,
Queen of the embroidered throne,
Suffering I beseech thee,
Weaver of the threads of fate,
Do not weigh down my heart with fear,
O goddess, hear me!
Now come hither,
As you once came,
Hear my voice in the distance
And refuse not to hear;
Thou didst come in a golden chariot,
So quickly
From thy father's dwelling.
Fair, thy swift sparrows
Have drawn thee hither,
Round the dark earth
From heaven's height descending,
Whirling with wings
To the depths
Of the middle of the ether,
Fluttering they came.
And you, once blessed,
With lips immortally smiling,
Did ask -
Why weepest thou?
What has broken in?
Whom does thy heart love
And what beauty?
Who wrongfully spurns thee,
Who spurns thy gifts;
She shall soon follow thee;
If she love thee not,
Is not willing to love,
Soon she shall love thee. -
Ah, come,
Deliver me from this plague,
Fulfil my longing;
Help, I beseech thee,
Daughter of Zeus,
Immortal Aphrodite,
Queen of the embroidered throne,
Suffering I beseech thee,
Weaver of threads of destiny,
Do not weigh down my heart with fear,
O goddess, hear me!
PART XI

ARCHAIC HYMNS TO APHRODITE

HYMN I

Muse! Tell me the deeds of golden Cypris,

Who stirs the sweet passions in the gods,
Subdues the species of mortal men and birds,
That fly in the skies, and all the many creatures,
That the arid land may flourish, and what lives in the sea,
These love the works of golden-crowned Cythere.

But there are three hearts that the goddess cannot bend,
Nor ensnare. First is the daughter of Cronion,
Who holds the Aegis shield, with radiant eyes Athena,
She has no delight in works of golden Cypris,
But delicious to her are the wars, the work of Ares,
Strife and battle, and works of glorious craft.
This first taught the earthly craftsmen, chariots
And to make harnesses of war different from bronze,
And she taught the beautiful young girls of the house
And gave knowledge of splendid arts in every sense.
Even the laughter-loving Aphrodite has never
Artemis seen mortally in love, the slayer-virgin
With the golden arrows. She loves the shooting of the bow
And the killing of wild beasts on high mountains
And the lyre too, and the dance and the thrilling cries
And the shady woods and cities and upright people.
Also the pure virgin Hestia always eludes
Of sensual love, Aphrodite's mighty work.
She was the first-born child of the cunning Cronos
And the youngest by the will of Zeus in heaven,
Who holds the Aegis shield, a princess and maiden,
Maid whom Poseidon and Apollo sought to wed.
She was averse, stubbornly she refused
And touched the head of Zeus the father, who holds the shield,
That the lovely goddess might swear formal oaths,
Which in truth were fulfilled, she remained a virgin
All her days. So Zeus the father gave her glory
Instead of marriage. She has her place in the midst of the house
And has abundant sacrifices. In all the temples
Of all the gods she has her share of honour
And among all mortals she is mistress of the goddesses.
These three Aphrodite could never bend
Or ensnare their hearts. But the other gods
Or mortals could never escape Cypris.
Even the heart of Zeus, thrilled with thunder,
Was led astray by her, though he be the greatest
Of all the gods, the majestic king.
Aphrodite beguiled his wise heart whenever she willed
And united him with lovely mortal women,
Unbeknownst to Hera, his sister and wife,
Who yet is so great, the fairest goddess of heaven,
Whom cunning Cronus begat with mother Rhea,
But Zeus, whose wisdom is eternal, made the goddess
Hera to his chaste, caring wife.

But Aphrodite herself threw desire into Zeus

And the sweet lust of love for mortal women,
To be united in love with mortal women,
So that Zeus loved not even innocent mortals.
And the laughter-loving Aphrodite at that day
Smiled softly, she was mocking among the gods,
Seeing the gods full of love for mortal women,
Naked children of death with immortal gods,
The immortal goddesses mated with mortal men!

And so Zeus put in her heart the languishing longing

For Anchises, who grazed the cattle on the slopes of the hill,
On forest-rich Ida the cattle, in form like the glorious gods.
When the laughter-loving Aphrodite saw him,
She loved him at once, and terrible desires of lust
Seized her in her heart. She went to Cyprus, to Paphos,
Where is her precinct and the sweet altar of her temple,
And she entered the incense-scented temple,
Locked the mighty gates. And the graces anointed
Her blooming body with heavenly anointing oil,
This body of the eternal deity of divine sweetness.
And the laughter-loving Aphrodite put on the light
And adorned her bosom with golden ornaments,
Her full bosom, and so she left fragrant Cyprus
In all haste towards Troy, in all haste
She travelled high in the clouds. She came to woody Ida,
Mother of wild creatures, and went to the mountain homestead.
There came grey wolves, with grovelling before the goddess,
Fierce-eyed lions and panthers and roaring bears,
Swift leopards with hot hunger for deer.
Aphrodite's heart was glad to see them all,
And she noticed the wish in her bosom's breast
That all the wild beasts mated furiously,
Two at a time, in the shady caves.

But she herself came to the well-built homestead,

And in the courtyard alone she found the hero Anchises,
Beautiful as the gods! All the others went with the herds
Across the grassy pastures of Ida,
He stayed alone in the homestead, leaping to and fro, and thrillingly
He played on the lyre. And Aphrodite,
The daughter of God, stood before him, a pure girl.
She stood on high, with a gentle smile on her face,
That he should not have been startled when he took heed
And he perceived her with his eyes. Now when Anchises
Beheld Aphrodite, he well noted her beauty,
And marvelled at her lovely face, her smile,
Her height, and her gown of light,
For she was clad in a gown of golden hue,
Of coloured embroidery that, like the silver moonlight
Flowed lasciviously over her majestic breasts,
Oh, a wonder to behold, and enriched with gleam.
Also she wore bangles, also she wore earrings flowery,
Between her breasts the necklace shone with pearls.

And Anchises was seized with hot love,

Said to her, Hail mistress! Which of the blessed art thou?
Art thou Artemis, Leto, or the golden Cypris,
Or the high-born Themis, or Athena
With the radiant eyes, or a Grace,
Who accompany the great works of the gods and are
Considered immortal, one of the nymphs
Are you, perhaps, who visit the pleasant woods,
Or of those who inhabit the beautiful mountains
Or the rivers or the grassy meadows.
I will build you an altar at the top of the mountain,
In the place that is seen from afar, and abundant offerings
I will offer to thee at all times of the circling year.
Feel well, and be well disposed, and give to me,
That I may excel as a man in the circle of the Trojans,
Give me strong offspring for the times to come.
Give me also what long for, I may live and be happy on earth,
Here to see the light of the sun, and let me reach
Old age, prosperous among men.

Then Aphrodite, the daughter of the heavenly Father, spoke to him,

O Anchises, most glorious of all men on earth!
Know that I am not a goddess. Why then wilt thou
Compare me to the immortal goddesses above?
No, I am a mortal, a woman was the mother,
Who bore me, the famous Otreus my procreator,
If thou hast heard of him, who in Phrygia is ruler
Over fortresses. I know well thy language,
As my own tongue, the sister of a Trojan
Carried me home, she took me from my loving mother,
Carried me hence when I was a little child,
Hence it is that I know the Trojan tongue.
But the hunter of Argos took me captive
From the dancing chorus of the huntress Artemis, bow-armed.
For there were many of us, lovely nymphs,
Marriageable maidens, who played together there,
An innumerable number of loveliest maidens surrounded me.
But the hunter of Argos with the golden staff
Swept me away. He carried me over the lands
Of mortal men and uncultivated pastures and meadows,
Where the wild beasts roam through shadowy caves,
Till I thought never again to touch
The life-giving Mother Earth with my feet. He said,
That I shall be called the wife of Anchises,
And I shall bear thee glorious boys!
When he had said this, the huntsman of Argos
Returned to the family of the immortal gods,
While now I have come to you, dear Anchises,
For unbending compulsion is upon me. I adjure thee by Zeus
And adjure thee by thy natural parents -
No vile parents can beget such an offspring
Like thee - O take me, take me in haste, beloved!
I am chaste and inexperienced in the arts of love!
Show me your father and your caring mother,
Thy brothers also, begotten in the very bed,
I will not ill please them as daughter and sister.
Send messengers quick to the Phrygians,
To tell my father and my sad mother all,
And they will send you money in abundance and rich gifts.
Accept them as a bridal gift. And then prepare the sweet
Honourable in the eyes of men and gods.

When she had thus spoken, the goddess set

A sweet desire in his heart. And Anchises
Was seized with great love! He opened his mouth,
And he said, If thou art a mortal and
A woman was thy mother that bore thee, and Otreus
Is thy illustrious begetter, as thou say'st, when thou here
Came by the will of Hermes, the immortal guide,
And thou shalt be called my wife for ever,
Then no god or mortal man shall hold me back till I have loved thee,
With thee have slept, even if the archer Apollo
Should himself shoot heavy arrows from the silver bow.
I would gladly go down to the house of Hades,
O my lady, beautiful as the goddesses, had I but once
Climbed into thy bed to mingle with thee in love!

He took her hand. Laughter-loving Cypris,

Face averted and eyes downcast,
Crawled upon the rich bed, with its soft blankets,
Covered for the hero, on which lay the skins of bears,
Hides of lions, which he himself slew in the mountains.
And when she lay down on the splendid broad bed,
Anchises took off her jewels, her clasps and brooches,
Took off her earrings and pearls, and with pleasure
He loosened her girdle and took off her dress, naked
He laid her down. And by the will of the gods
And by the will of almighty fate he slept
With her, a mortal man slept with the immortal goddess
Aphrodite. It was not clear to him what was happening.
But at the time when the shepherds led the cattle and sheep back to pasture,
Returned to the pasture, Aphrodite poured out sleep
On Anchises. She herself put on the dress again. On,
When the goddess was fully dressed,
From the bed, her head touching the beams of the roof,
Her cheeks shone with unearthly beauty,
As befits the golden-crowned Cythere.
And then she woke him from sleep and opened her mouth
And she said, Up now, son of Dardanus, up now!
Why do you sleep so long? Think how beautiful I was,
When first thou sawest me with thine eyes.

So she said. He awoke obediently in a moment.

But when he saw Aphrodite's neck and glowing eyes,
He was frightened, averted his eyes,
His beautiful face in the cloak. Then he spoke winged words.

When I first saw you with my eyes, lovely goddess,

I knew that thou wast divine. You denied it.
But by Zeus, I beseech thee, let me not faint
Nor live a lame life among men,
But have mercy on me, for who hath slept
With a goddess in bed and not remained paralysed?

Aphrodite, the daughter of Zeus, answered with a smile,

My Anchises, most glorious of mortal men,
Have courage and do not be fearful with a despondent heart,
Do not fear harm from me or from other
Blessed gods, you are dear to the blessed gods,
Thou shalt have a dear glorious boy,
Who shall reign in Troy, and children shall follow him.
His name shall be Aeneas. Alas, I suffer terribly,
That I lay in the bed of a mortal man.
Yet men of your race are always the dearest
To all the gods in the beauty of the body.

Verily, verily, the wise Zeus abducted the boy

Ganymedes for his golden-haired beauty,
That he might be among the celestials and pour the wine
In the house of God - a true wonder to behold -
And is honoured by all immortals when he pours the nectar
From a golden bowl. But, O faithful Anchises,
Alas, no peace was found in the heart of his grieving father
Tros, for he knew not where the whirlwind had taken
His beloved son, he ever mourned,
Unceasingly he mourned, until Zeus had pity on him,
Gave him in recompense for the son, the beloved,
Horses such as the immortal gods carry,
These he gave him as a gift. By the command of the Most High
The hunter of Argus told him all, his son was immortal,
Immortal as are the immortal gods.
So when Tros heard this message from the heavenly father,
He ceased to mourn, but rejoiced heartily
And rode merrily with his storm-footed steeds.
So also Aurora carried off Tithonus, who
Was of thy race, like the human gods
Golden enthroned. And she went to the dark clouded
Son of Cronus, that he might live for ever, immortal,
To ask Zeus, Zeus bowed his head, to grant her prayer,
Zeus granted her wish. But too simple
Was the royal Aurora, she did not think in her heart
On asking eternal youth for him too
And to strip him of the mire of mortal age.
So while he enjoyed the sweet blossom of life,
He lived enraptured with golden-throned Aurora,
That early-born, by the ocean's streams,
At the ends of the earth, but grey thet hairs of his head,
Already the hair of the head, the beard on the chin,
And the royal Aurora now kept herself far from
His bed, though she nursed him at home and fed him
With food of ambrosia, gave him clothing too.
But the vile age pressed him down
And he could no longer move nor lift his limbs.
Then she consulted in her innermost heart,
And she laid him in a room and lay him before
The shining door. There he lies and babbles endlessly, is powerless,
Who once was vigorous in his supple limbs.

I will not transfer thee to the immortal gods

As immortal, that thou shouldst live in such a manner.
But if thou shouldst rise, as thou now livest in form and likeness, I
Would call thee my bridegroom, there would be no sorrow
Then in my caring heart. But it is so,
That grey age shall soon envelope thee, that reckless age,
That ruthless age that one day stands by the side
Of every mortal man, fatally wearying,
Yea, age is feared even by the gods.

But now I grow very sad because of you, beloved,

Ever mourning among the immortal gods.
In the past they feared my cunning, I had often mated,
The immortals often mated with mortal women,
Which also the gods gladly did at my will.
But now I no longer have that power with the gods,
Great is my madness, my wretched terrible madness!
Alas, I went astray with my wandering head
And I wear a boy under the belt of charms
From sexual mating with a mortal man.

For the boy, as soon as he shall see the light of day,

Stand ready the fair mountain nymphs, each bosomy,
Who inhabit these sacred great mountains,
They raise him up. They do not reckon with mortals and
Not with immortals. Long they live, heavenly food
They eat and dance with the immortals, drunk
Is Silenus with them and the hunter of Argus
In the depths of the mountain's pleasant caves.
But at their birth the spruces grow, the oaks
In the spring with them on the fertile earth,
Beautiful, green trees, towering on mountains.
Men call them holy places of immortal spirits
And mortals never cut them down with axe and hatchet.
But when the fate of death is near at hand,
The beautiful trees will wither where they stand,
And the bark shrivels, the branches fall and finally
The life of the nymph fades under the light of the sun.
These nymphs will keep with them my child,
And as soon as he grows into a beautiful boy,
The goddesses will bring him here to show you
Your boy. But, I can tell you this, I will do
All that I have in mind, I'll do, and I'll come again,
Come in the seventh year and bring thee the lovely boy.
And as quickly as you have ever seen an offspring,
To feast thine eyes upon him, thou shalt behold him
And rejoice in the sight, for he is godlike, verily!
Take him to stormy Ilion. Then if any
Of mortals ask thee who bore thee the babe
Under that lovely girdle, remember to tell him,
What I command thee, he is the offspring of a nymph,
Of one of the mountain nymphs that inhabit the wooded hill.
But if you boast in glorious folly before all,
That thou hast slept with gold-locked Aphrodite,
Then Zeus in his wrath will kill you with lightning.
Now I have told thee all. Now, behold, renounce,
Do not name me, or the wrath of the punishing gods will strike you.

When the goddess had said this, she went up to heaven.

Hail, goddess of love, queen of Cyprus!
I began with you, now I will sing to you once more.

HYMN II

I will sing of the divine Aphrodite,

This golden-crowned and beautiful one, whose government
Are the walled cities of sea-girdled Cyprus.
Behold, the moist breath of the west wind blew the goddess
Over the waves of the noisy sea in foam.
There the golden-robed Hours greeted her joyfully.
And the Hours clothed her with heavenly garments.
On her heads they placed a fine golden crown,
At the ears they hung ornaments of gold jewellery
And with silver chains adorned the snow-white bosom.
And the golden adorned hours, whenever the father's
Heavenly house they entered, saw the goddesses dancing.
Now when the Hours had adorned and clothed Aphrodite,
They brought her to the gods, who greeted her with joy.
Each of the gods prayed that he might be allowed to dance With the most beautiful of the
goddesses,
The Goddess of the goddesses as his bride,
So amazed were they at the beauty of the golden Cythere.

Hail, chaste, sweet-gaining goddess!

Grant that I may win a victory in the poet's contest,
And grace my songs with thy divine grace.

HYMN III

Nymphs, nymphs, you who from the ocean stream

Derive your birth, you dwell in grottoes of the earth,
Nurses of the suffering drunkards, nurses of Bacchus,
Secretly hunting powers, to preserve the fruits of autumn
And to nourish each flower in the laughing spring!
Earthly, joyful, dwelling in meadows, in caves and grottos,
Whose depths stretch into dark hell,
Saints, that swiftly through airs of the ether ascend,
Dews and fountains and streams are in your care.
Invisible, visible, the joy you have in the wanderings far away
And gently guide us naturally through flowering valleys,
Rejoicing with Pan on the high mountains, the mountains of the shepherds,
Foundations of cities are from you, mad nymphs,
Who thrill with resounding echoes, rocks and forests.
Nymphs, fragrant, white, whose breezes breathe refreshing,
Which the balmy wind robs you of, it robs you of Zephyrus laughing,
Ye who delight in goats and pastures and panthers,
Nurses of fruits, unaware of the decay in the autumn,
Full of cool joy and sporting in the sea.
Nysical nymphs, fanatical nymphs, mad nymphs,
Joys of the oaks, lovers of the laughing spring,
Ye Paeonian maidens, bright and radiant,
Hear, with Ceres and Bacchus, hear my devout prayers!
Come, ye nymphs, and abundantly bless mortal mankind,
Often let your sweet voices be heard, come with haste,
Rejoice with grace in this mystic rite,
Give us fruitful seasons and sufficient prosperity,
And pour out in lasting streams salvation and blessing!

HYMN IV

Queen of heaven, laughter-loving queen Venus,

Sea-born, Urania, night-loving goddess,
Mistress with your terribly holy countenance,
Force from which necessity came, O force, my goddess,
Creatrix, night-loving, all-connecting lady!
It is for thee to unite all worlds harmoniously beautiful,
All things spring from thee, O power, my goddess,
Thy decrees rule the wise triune fate,
All the creatures of the worlds are completely devoted to thee!
Whatever the high heavens surround, all contain,
Fruit-producing earths, tempestuous seas,
All confess thy dominion and obey thy nod,
Even the dreadful servants of the bacchanalian‘s god!
Goddess of marriage, charming to behold, loving mother,
Who delights in banquets, O source of seduction,
Mysterious, favouring queen, Venus,
Thou illustrious foam-born, invisible, visible,
Bride who bends to men, most productive of the gods,
The most desired, life-giving being,
Great sceptre-bearer of heavenly gods,
Thy office is to bind men with firm bonds,
To bind every tribe of monsters with magic chains
By the craziest desires and the worst lusts.
Come, born in Cyprus, hear my prayers,
Whether exalted in the heaven of heavens you shine
Or in Syria preside in the holy temple
Or steer the chariot over Egyptian deserts,
In the golden glow, or near the holy waters,
Fruitful and illustrious thou livest in blessed places,
Or when with serene joy thou live on sea-shores,
Near where the sea roars with foaming waves,
Circling choirs of mortal men are there thy delight
Or pretty young nymphs with light-blue eyes
Are gladdened by the sandy shores of the glorious sea,
When thy swift golden chariot, O Venus, is gone,
Or when in Cyprus you celebrate with the mother,
Where married women praise thee yearly and maidens,
Sweet maidens join in the chorus, O goddess,
Pure to sing Adonis and thee, O weeping Venus.
All-attracting Venus, come to my prayers,
For I invoke thee, O Venus, in holy spirit!

PART XII

SAINT PANAGIA APHRODITISSA

HYMN TO APHRODITISSA

Clement of Alexandria said,

Aphroditissa was born
From the voluptuous sexual organ
Of the Father in heaven.
She is the Aphroditissa Philommedes,
Who loves the sexual organ,
So she is also Aphroditissa Philomeides,
Who loves the laughter of the climax!
She is the goddess of this moment,
Who carries the mortal
Above life, rather,
Who makes him grasp life
In all its depth.

In spring the doves come

Across the Mediterranean
To the nymph Europe,
They mate,
They let out from the thicket of the foliage
The beguiling cooing sounds.

The roses are coloured

With the blood of Aphroditissa.
O you crooked and jagged thorns,
How you have scratched Aphroditissa!
You have not spared her white skin,
You spare no person at all,
Even if it were a divine one!
The beautiful, delicate Aphroditissa
Has probably experienced it herself,
When she was pierced.
That's why the white roses
Began to turn blood-red!

O white Aphroditissa of Arles!

Queen of Provence!
No cloak hides your beautiful shoulders,
I see thou art the goddess,
Daughter of the luminous heaven!
Show me your naked arms!
Show me your naked breasts!
Show me your naked thighs!
Show yourself completely naked, Aphroditissa,
O divine mistress!
Your pure beauty
Clothes you better than the cloak.
Let the little dress fall to your feet,
The robe that clings to thy loins!
Cover no longer that which is fairest,
What you possess!
Leave your naked body
To the kisses of the bright sky!

Her black hair is heavy laden

With scents and colours of flowers.
She is the white rose of the spray,
She is a silver gleam,
She is a light flame of love!
She bends to me full of grace,
Whom I always seek,
And the earth becomes sweet
By the name of Aphroditissa!

She came like lightning from the flaming sea,

She walked on the water!
The wonderful seas know her,
The storms and the waves know her.
With her the roses blossom redder
And bluer are the waters
In the bays of delight with her!

The goddess came ashore.

Quickly she strode along the fresh shores.
At noon the groves rose,
The warm flowers were confused,
As if they rose confused from a bed.
She went to the sea, the sea rose up
And threw the dolphin on the beach.

The blood of Aphroditissa

Mingled with the blood of men.
The kiss of love
Awakens the unawakened maiden.
The maiden awakens to the lust of love!
Tomorrow the bride will no longer hesitate
To light the candle!

What will we do with all that money?

We will build a convent!
The girls of sixteen
We'll put in it
And the man of fifty!
Aphroditissa
Is the abbess of our monastery!

She grew from the divine foam

Of the severed phallus
Of the father in heaven.
The impregnated foam
Drove her to Cythera
And from Cythera to Cyprus.
There she grew
In the bosom of the sea
To full bloom of beauty,
Until she set her foot on the sandy shore.

She came ashore on the southwest coast

Of the island,
Near Paphos, where the sea spray
Beneath rose-coloured rocks
Comes smooth and plentiful
Over the sandy beach.
The idea of maternal power
Has existed from the ice age
To this day. She is the goddess
Of the evening star, the morning star,
The goddess of the bed,
Of fertile abundance,
Glorious to behold
In her lapis lazuli jewellery
And her eye shadow!

All the creatures of the field,

All the animals with four feet
Under the wide sky,
Fruit trees, gardens,
Flower beds, green grasses,
The fishes in the pond,
The birds under the sky,
Waiting at night, when it's quiet,
For their mistress,
All living creatures
And all men bend their knees before her,
My mistress looks down with kindness and love
From heaven to me
And all strive
To heavenly Aphroditissa!

Even the Achaeans worshipped

Their goddess of love
With full breasts
And the triangle of the vulva.
Now they saw in Cyprus
A higher goddess of love,
Of pregnancy and foam.
Ashtoreth became Ashtaroth,
Ashtaroth became Attaorethe,
Aattorethe became Aphthorete,
Aphthorethe became Aphrodite.
Aphrodite was born from Aphros,
Aphrodite is the Foamborn.

Aphrodite's cities are

Idalion, Soli and Marion,
Salamis and Kouklia.
In Kouklia stands the church
Of Saint Panhagia Aphroditissa!
O Panhagia Aphroditissa,
By your bare breasts,
Pray for us!

Aphroditissa is born
From the loving union
Of the thundering Father in heaven
With Mother Earth,
The divine Mother Dione.
God pours down his rain,
Dione is all conception!

Others say an egg

Sank down from heaven
Into the Euphrates.
Fishes rolled the egg ashore
And doves hatched
The huge egg on the land,
They hatched
The Syrian goddess
Aphroditissa.
The goddess was of such a majesty
And such a glorious holiness,
God granted the fishes
To shine as stars in the sky.
Therefore the fishes are sacred to the Syrians
And the doves are sacred.

O the genitals
Of the heavenly Father!
Around their immortal flesh
The white foam coiled!
From the foam the girl was born!
The girl was driven to Cythera
And then to the island of Cyprus in the sea,
There the glorious
Goddess stepped onto the beach,
The roses bloomed beneath her feet.
Gods and men baptised her
With the name of Aphroditissa!

They called her Aphroditissa Philommedes,

The genitalia-loving goddess,
Because the sex of the father was her origin.
Eros was her companion in life!
The divine desire always accompanied the goddess!
From the beginning she was worshipped
And accepted by gods and men.
She lives in the giggles
Of the young girls,
In the chatter of beautiful women,
In the seductive smile of the mistress
And in the sweet fulfilment of dreams longing
And in tender love!

Praise the shell

Of Aphroditissa!
The goddess on the shell
Is worshipped even in China
At the Great Wall!
The goddess rises from the shell
As if just created,
As in the bosom of the shell the pearl
Born and grown.
Why should the foam,
Why should the sperm of the father
Not ripen in a gentle bed,
Enclosed and protected
By two shell's flaps?
Kteis is the name of the shell,
Kteis is called the woman's vulva.
In the womb of the sea
The new goddess matured.
The shell opened
And Anadyomene appears in her nakedness
And holds a man's phallus in her right hand!
She is the goddess in the shell,
Aphroditissa Philommedes,
The genital lover,
Queen of supreme sexual satisfaction!

Thus two women were once

Washed up from the sea
And came to the temple of the goddess.
The aged grandmother, who served in the temple,
Said, The goddess comes on the shell,
So she should be able to save two scallops!
Behold the scallop shell!
Open the shell,
You'll find at its hem
Beneath short antennae
Fifty glittering eyes,
The collar of Aphroditissa!
Those tiny pearly eyes
On the hem of the shell
Are the collar of Aphroditissa!

Aphroditissa is also celebrated

As the Great Mother Margarethe,
Mistress of the strings of pearls!
A woman has dedicated
A bronze needle,
On the tip of the needle
An egg of Egyptian porcelain,
Crowned with a pearl.
Beneath the egg
Four doves spread their wings
And drink from four lotuses,
Between four mouths of bitches.
Aphroditissa came ashore
On the Achni Coast
At Petra tou Romiou,
Near Old Paphos,
Below the road
That leads from Paphos-Ktima to Kourion.
A wild place!
As sacred as it is enchanting,
As ever a place was haunted by a woman,
In the silver moon
To yearn the nightly wooing.
The cliffs were bathed in pink,
The colour of Aphroditissa.
The dark blue of the sea
Became tiles in Persian temples.
The foam of the sea is beautiful,
That drifts shimmering to the shore.
The pink rocks
With black pieces
Rise mightily from the sea,
From the Persian blue of the sea
Separated by a white fringe.
The surge of the divine sperm‘s foam
Spills over a hill of the steep coast,
Splits, slides down the sandy dune,
To join with new waves
Of the sea foam.
Here is a landscape
Of Aphroditissa's blue and pink,
Filled with the roar of the sea.

O Aphroditissa of Paphos,
I saw at thy bay of delight
My beloved swimming in a blue wave.
Suddenly the flame of love seized my heart.
From the wet water-woman
I drew glowing coals to myself!
Your sandy beach gave her
A loving welcome.
We are bound by the same longing.
What I had asked from her on the land,
Goddess, you have granted me.

Aphroditissa wrapped her body

In robes of loveliness,
Made by the Graces,
And bathed in the perfume of flowers
Of crocus and rose petals
And daffodils, waved with ambrosia,
And chaste royal lilies.
The spring and the summer lavished
Their floral scents on the light fabrics
Of Aphroditissa's short dress.

Aphroditissa I will sing,

The beautiful, virtuous one,
She with the golden wreath
Who reigns in Cyprus by the sea,
Where the west wind has blown her
Over the foam of the rushing sea.
Praying the Hours
Received her with great joy
And gave her heavenly garments
And put the golden wreath in her curls
And hung on her ears jewels
Of precious stone blossoms,
The slender white swan's neck
And the white naked bosom
They adorned with golden chains,
Which the Hours themselves wore as sacred ornaments,
When they went to the heavenly ones,
To the Father House of God.
After the Hours had arranged
The jewellery on the body of Aphroditissa,
The maidens escorted the queen
To heaven, where every celestial dweller
Wished for bliss,
To have Aphroditissa for his bride!
All the celestials praise
The beautiful form
Of the crowned goddess!

From the cliffs of Achni

It is not far to the Troodos Mountains,
The land of the anemones of Adonis
And the cyclamen
Of the Great Mother Margarethe,
And it is not far to Messaria,
Where in springtime the red poppies bloom
And where from the air
Comes the gold of golden blossoms.
Nestled among the flowers
There lie the sanctuaries of Aphroditissa,
Old Paphos above all,
Idalion, Amathos,
Soli and Kourion,
There you can see the blue summit
Of the bosom-shaped mountain Olympos.

The mountain of Olympos is crowned

By the cross of Christ,
It is called the Mountain of the Cross.
Here is a monastery,
To which Saint Helen brought
The cross of the Shechard,
Who was crucified with Christ,
To whom Jesus said, I say to you,
This very day you will be with me in Paradise...

In Cythrea at the spring between the hills

In the shade of the plane trees
Near the coffee house
Young Aphroditissa grew up.
After her love sports
Aphroditissa used to bathe herself
In the spring of the Akamas Mountains.
This spring is called
Brusis ton Eroton, the spring of Eros,
Or Loutra tis Aphroditis, the bath of Aphrodite.

Who wants to visit the bath of Aphroditissa,

Take a boat in the fishing village of Lachi
And use the path of the water.
He comes to a park of olive trees,
Near the peacock colours of the sea
Lies a farm
With a pavilion,
There is the spring,
From a narrow crevice in the rock
The water flows
Under the branches of the fig tree.
You walk along the path
Between pink and white rock roses,
Cyclamen with long stems,
Blue stars, reed grass,
Maidenhair ferns stream down from the rocks,
The hair of Venus,
Whether it means the hair of her head
Or the hair of her vulva,
Who so often her damp hair
Dried when she rose from the bath.

Isola sacra a l'amorosa Dea!

Land full of loveliness and joy!
Seven miles or six
From the sea
Rises the lovely hill.
The landscape is rich in myrrh,
Cedars, mahogany, orange trees
And a thousand other sweet-smelling trees.
From the fragrant mother earth
Spring thyme and marjoram,
Roses and lilies.
The breeze from land to sea is heavy
Loaded with enchanting sweetness.
The clear spring sends
A stream down the embankment.
The place so full of loveliness and joy,
Was Aphroditissa's estate.
The spirit of the goddess of love
Inspires the lovers,
The young girls and also
The old men in their last hour!

HYMN TO THE DEA DOLOROSA

Adonis grew up in Paphos,

He was as beautiful as a boy
As he had been beautiful as a boy.
The Dea Dolorosa loved him to madness,
She was afraid for him,
That he should die,
If he went hunting in the woods.
Adonis did not listen to the goddess
And went hunting in the woods.
Then a hard boar broke out of the thicket
And hewed his tusks
Into the white flesh of Adonis.
The Dea Dolorosa
In her swan chariot
Heard Adonis' death rattle,
She came down and found him
In a pool of blood
Dead in the dust!
Then the Dea Dolorosa decided,
To create an eternal memorial for Adonis,
She turned his blood
Into a red anemone.
For my tears, Adonis,
Shall be remembered
Until the end of time.
A living image
Shall bear witness to my heavy grief
And of your death.
To a flower I dedicate
Your red blood!
Thus spoke the Dea Dolorosa
And poured nectar
On the precious blood.
Then she found a red anemone,
Red as the precious blood of Adonis.
Today this flower is called
Saint Brigitta flower.
On the hills of Idalion
Grows the primordial anemone.
When the pink almond blossoms fall
The anemone blossoms.
The Cypriots call the hill
The summit of Saint Gabriel.
For like the Dea Dolorosa
Wept for her darling Adonis,
So did the archangel Gabriel
Came in the chamber of the Virgin Mary,
Chaire, Kecharitomene!
But the white anemones
Have come out of the earth
Through the tears
Of the Dea Dolorosa.
Tears of the Dea Dolorosa dripped on the earth
And the precious blood of Adonis,
The tears and the blood wetted the earth
And became beautiful flowers.
White anemones bloom
From the tears of the Dea Dolorosa
And red roses of the passion of love
From the precious blood of Adonis.
Adonis, Adonis, dead is Adonis!
Risen Adonis
As a red rose
Of love's passion!

HYMN TO EROS

But now I sing Eros!

Before the gods
Was Eros
And Eros was God!
Eros is older than the heavens,
Older than the earth,
But older than Eros
Is the Cross!...
Eros is the uncreated God,
Who begets life,
And without Eros nothing lives
And no one loves without Eros!
This Eros has shaken my heart
As the storm stirs in the oak!
Eros finds me everywhere,
Eros finds me in the gardens,
Eros finds me by the sea,
Eros drives me mad!
Eros humbles me,
Eros comes as a divine thief
And steals my heart!
The mother of the little god
Watches the doings of her favourite
And takes pleasure in it!
Praxiteles created an image of Eros
And gave Eros
To the beautiful hetaera Phryne,
The beautiful hetaera Phryne
Gave the image of Eros
To the temple of love.
The face andthe look of Eros
Are mysterious
And attractive in the knowing will!
He is the dream lover of all hetaeras,
Above all the beautiful hetaera Phryne!
Eros I sing, the boy,
The son of the mother of fair love,
Who with his torch
The hearts inflames,
With his sharp arrow
Wounds the heart!
A terrible god,
A terrible god is Eros!
A terrible god is Eros!
The darling listens to me,
Then he laughs out loud.
When I sigh and groan,
His power grows!
How hast thou, star of the sea,
From the drop of the sea
Born the fire of God to the world?

HYMN TO EUCHARIS

I will sing the ever-youthful

Goddess Eucharis!
Late in the evening Eucharis came,
She whose eyes so shine,
Who from her suitor
In sweet morning hours of leisure
Is reluctant to part.
Still so weary sweet,
As if the night had not sufficed to rest,
She sinks into the lap of her throne.
I saw the precious blood
Of the goddess Eucharis flowing!
I saw the lifeblood
Flow from the wound of the goddess!
Does she eat bread, does she drink wine?
Divine blood flows in her veins
And therefore she is called blessed goddess of men!

Then I saw Father

Of angels and men smiling
And tenderly the father spoke,
O daughter of God,
You shall abhor war, the abomination of mankind,
Queen of peace shalt thou be
And order the works of marriage!

We will not be angry with the beautiful young girl,

That she is so fair, so lovely!
The yellow lily is so beautiful
By the grace of God!
Every human goddess emerges from the sea of light
As once the foam-born Aphroditissa!

Who was there with Eucharis?

The languishing love was there
And sighing and longing
And jests were there
And flattering lips,
That beguile even the wise!
From the light blue eyes
Of the maiden goddess Eucharis
The beautiful love flows,
Which robs all limbs
Deprived of the lifeblood!

Singing for Eucharis,

I will sing the eternally youthful Charites!
Songful queens,
Hear, how I adore you, godly girls!
With you comes mirth and sweetness
To the wise, to the noble, to the saint!
God reigns in heaven and on earth
Not without grace and favour!
But the youthful Graces
Choose with the Son
The works of the Father
And praise the Father in Olympus,
The Ancient of Days
With the snow-white hair!

You're wonderful, Aglaja,

Girlfriend of my feelings!
Euphrosyne, you love the songs,
Glories sing thy songs!
Thalia, laughing girl,
Cheerfully jesting Grace!
Ye girls look amused
At the poor poet's verses.
Lightly you walk after happiness.

Lyrically I sing this hymn

And follow the seers
And went down the path
To Acheron and Phlegeton
And saw Eccho invisible
And heard her voice in the vineyard
In the summer
And the shepherd played the flute
On the bank of the river
And looked across
To the other side serene!

Everything Eucharis wanted to give me,

She gave it to me through the girls,
The sweet young Charites!
Eucharis, immaculate girl-goddess,
You are Charis Epistrophia,
Who transforms our hearts,
You are Charis Nympha,
The patroness of betrothal,
You are Charis Thalamon,
The queen of the sleeping chamber,
You are Charis Paregoros,
The comforter of sad men,
You are Charis Ambologna,
Who keeps the poet for ever young!

Eucharis is irresistibly beautiful!

Oh how glorious she is,
When she flies mightily near!
He who surrenders to her,
She walks mildly by his side.
She casts down proud hearts!
In the blue sky Eucharis walks,
She walks on the sea,
Spring comes by her grace!
She draws forth the seed
And makes life come
By her divine love instinct!

Philosopher, contemplate with your mind

On the divine love!
Why do your eyes wonder?
Why dost thou remain seated?
In mortals
Lives the divine love,
Mortals love when they love
With the power of divine love!
When they create harmony
In beautiful harmonies,
They call divine love
Sweetness and delight!
Let us reconcile divine love
With pious consecrations
And deliciously fragrant anointing oil,
With crushed myrrh
And noblest incense!
Red-blond honey I will consecrate
To divine love!
By the power of divine love
Members unite
To the living human being
And man ascends
To the height of flourishing life.

But quickly, very quickly

The Father War severs the limbs
And the dead stray
On the shores of death!
So the bush blossoms
Through love's beauty
And yet must wither soon, how soon!
So the fish in the sea slips away,
So the lamb graze on the peak
And the swan sings his song
Through the kiss of fair love!

How shines Eucharis!

She sheds the drops of beauty!
The firm white breasts
She presents naked!
But the dress hides
The cleft meadow of Venus!
She covers her hair
With a red-blond veil!
Far has the servant of the goddess,
The poet of the art of love,
Made the name of the goddess famous,
The Goddess of Eternal Love!
In Heaven one feels the power of love!
In hell one trembles before the power of love!
On earth, all long for the power of love!
In the sea the children of God bathe
In the floods of beautiful love!
People feel your breath,
Birds and herbs,
Chestnut trees and turtledoves
Feel your breath, O goddess!
In this creation no creature lives,
Unless by the power of beautiful love!
Without love no work endures,
No work has value except through love!

Now, immaculate maiden-goddess Eucharis,

Bestow your grace and favour on your servant!
Virgin goddess, whose servant I am,
Teach me to pour forth thy delights
In this world of men,
Thy delights, which thou givest me,
When you come near me with total surrender!

Born of an act
Of loveliest delight
Came the spotless maiden
With heavenly pure features
And was carried by the west wind
And the waves of delight surged!

O girl, one morning

In the middle of May
I was in a garden,
There grew yellow lilies
And white roses,
The meadow was sweet.
O girl,
Before the sweetness fades
When it's in full bloom
Pluck the white rose!

Oh, who saw my beloved

Naked
And whiter than the sheet of the bed!

PART XIII

THE HIEROS GAMOS OF INANNA AND DUMUZI

INANNA:

Even yesterday, me the mistress, time passed by,

Inanna I, the wife, and time passed by,
Then I was delighted to dance the beautiful dance,
I rejoiced in the night with its great all,
I rejoiced in the song, in the loving song,
As I heard the love song, the wedding hymn.
He met me, yes the Lord, my friend met me,
He gave me his hand, his heart was open to me.
And Ucumgala embraced me from the heart
And took pity on all my woe of love.
Come, bull, and set me free, I must go home,
Come, friend, set me free, I must go home.
I poor fool am my mother's child,
A mother's fool am I, as other fools are.

DUMUZI:
I'll tell you everything, woman, I'll teach you everything,
I'll show you how men adore women.
My girlfriend has taken me to the open market,
To the cymbal we performed the dances,
She sang her song for me, I hear it with my ears,
It was such a sweet song, I lost track of time.
You know how to deceive the mother where she lives,
But we give our passion to the moon.
I'll loosen thy hair in this wide bed,
Fill thee with delight in this sweet place,
Ah, Sagadidda was, the maid in fairest adornment,
With thee on the path all the while.

INANNA:

He would come to the mother‘s gate in broad daylight,

I was so excited, I was swimming in the air,
He decided, he came to Ningal's gate,
I'm so excited, I lost my breath.
I wish someone would say something to my mother,
She filled the house with fragrance on bright days.
I wish someone would shout something in my mother's ears,
She filled the house with the sweet smell of incense.
The house was fragrant, one would like to drink fragrances,
Encouraging would she to the suitor speak.

NINGAL:

Lord, you are indeed worthy of the embrace of the throne,

Of holy union, thou son-in-law of God!
Dumuzi, thou art worthy of the holy embrace,
Son-in-law of God, worthy of heartfelt mercy.
My lord, thy sacrifice is heard in paradise,
And flower and herb from thy garden is sweet.
Thy sacrifice is heard in the sanctuary of love,
From thy holy grove the herb, the red flower.

INANNA:

When my beloved met me alone,

He was glad to see me at the meeting.
The brother brought me to his house,
He let me lie soft in the sweet honey bed.
My beloved lay at my heart full of delight,
Then we joined with the kiss of tongues,
My brother then made his face fair in abundance,
He suddenly stood still in the harmony of silence,
Before the earth's quake he silenced the land,
On my hip round he laid his hand,
All the deliciousness of the sweetness of the shoots
I let happen in union in love.
DUMUZI:

O sister, set me free, set your guest free,

Beloved sister, come with me to the palace,
To my father, with your seven souls.
As a daughter full of grace and favour.

POET:

The brother affectionately to the young sister,

The god of the sun to the woman Inanna spoke.

UTU:

O young sovereign, how beautiful is the flax in the len!

Inanna, how the grain shines in the furrow!
I hoe land for thee, I bring thee the corn,
And linen I give thee, thou great delight.
For linen, great and small, is good above all things,
O young sovereign, I will bring it to thee.

INANNA:

After thou hast graciously brought me the flax,

O brother sun-god, who combs the flax for me?

UTU:

I bring it combed to thee, O sister mistress.

INANNA:

If you bring the flax combed to the beloved fool,

Who then will spin my flax, who will do such love to me?

UTU:

Spun, Inanna, I bring it to thee.

INANNA:

When flax is brought to me in summer nights,

Spun and combed, who will weave it for me?

UTU:

Woven, I'll bring it to my sister as her guest.

INANNA:

After you have braided it, brought it to me,

My brother sun-god, who will weave it for me?
UTU:

Woven I bring it to thee, O thou my life.

INANNA:

Woven thou wilt graciously bring it to the sister,

But who, brother god, will bleach it for me?

UTU:

Bleached I will bring it to the sister goddess.

INANNA:

My God, I wonder, my God above all things,

If you have thus brought the bridal gown to the beloved,
Who will go to bed with me to the lovemaking of the night?

UTU:

The husband goes to bed with thee chosen,

Dumuzi, who was born of a pure womb,
He was once conceived at the marriage throne, so kind,
The good shepherd he, he will go to bed with thee!

INANNA:

O brother, he shall be the husbandman, the peasant!

He, my heart's man, quenches my love's sorrow!
He gathers the grain, but drives out the chaff,
But the grain he gathers in my storehouse.

UTU:

O sister goddess, take for your husband the good shepherd!

Are you ready? Thou shalt feed the beloved well.
How good is his milk, the cream is as good,
Whatever he touches, that glows with love's ardour!
Inanna, take to husband Dumuzi! Lust is terrible!
With pearl necklaces adorn your breast, that makes you fertile!
What, are you not ready for him? Wait for him at home.
He'll gladly give his cream and his honeycomb.
He shall be the guardian of kings, the shepherd.
What, art thou not ready for him? Up, and feed thy friend.

INANNA:

The shepherd? No, I will not be the shepherd's wife,

For his garment is coarse and his wool rough.
I'll take the farmer, and with him I'll unite.
He makes flax grow for me and brings me fine linen.
The farmer brings me fruit, he brings me fresh fruit.
He makes the grain grow and puts bread on my table.

DUMUZI:

What do you want to say about this stupid farmer?

What do you think of him? But you leave me to mourn?
And he giveth thee flour also, and fruit moreover,
I give thee wool, I give thee lamb's fleece.
If he give thee white flour, I give thee white wool.
If he gives you beer, I'll give you the barrel of milk,
I'll give you honey, I'll give you cheese, he'll give you bread,
I'll give him some more when he's in deep trouble,
I give him my milk, I give him my cream.
He has no more than I have. Hear how I admonish you.

INANNA:

If my mother were not gracious to thee,

Thou wouldst be cast out. But thou art not to blame,
Thy grandmother, full of grace, is merciful to thee on earth
Or else thou wouldst be cast down from the mountain.
And if my father did not love thee dearly,
My father Nanna, well, thou wouldst have no roof.
And if my brother did not, the God, the son of Nanna,
Loved thee, thou wouldst not have admittance to Inanna.

DUMUZI:

Inanna, please, do not start a quarrel!

My father is as good as yours in time.
My father Enki is rich like your father Nanna,
And my sister is as beautiful as you, Inanna,
Like your mother, my mother too is good
And like thy brother, I too am full of hot ardour.
O young queen of the glorious palace,
Hear the words of the enamoured soul-guest.

POET:

The word that just came sweet from her mouth,

It was a word of lust, of consuming desire,
From the source of the quarrel, and after the quarrel's flames
The two still came together in love.
The shepherd went into the house with cream, was in the home,
He came to the palace with milk and honeycream.
And when he stood before the house, he cried aloud the words:

DUMUZI:

O young queen, open to me thy gate!

POET:

Inanna ran at once, and asked her mother,

The mother Ningal, who once bore her in her womb,
The child asked the mother's advice in a low voice,
Then spoke the mother in the royal place:

NINGAL:

My child, the young man, he will be your father,

And you will be for him his dear little mother.
He will be your father and will treat you well,
You will be his mother and walk lovingly with him.
And therefore, queen, now open the palace
And let him in to thee, let in the soul guest.

POET:

Inanna, at the word, at the Mother's command,

Bathed and anointed, ate honey and butter,
Her body she wrapped in a whitish robe.
The morning gift she already held in her hand,
The pearl necklace she beautifully placed on her bosom
And read the poetry of the deep-blooded muses.
Dumuzi was already waiting and eager,
Inanna opened the door with her hand.
In the inner palace she shone for him
As the moon's light moistens the dark night.
Dumuzi saw her glad, he who long missed her,
And breast to breast he kissed Inanna.

INANNA:

What I tell you, let the singer sing to you,

What I tell you, let it enter your ear.
From old to young hear my word and my commandment:
For my vulva is the boat of the kingdom of heaven,
Is full of zeal like the young moon and brave,
And long has my unpollinated field lain fallow.
As for me, I have not that which sufficeth me,
I ask my God, who ploughs my vulva?
The unpollinated land, who will plough the field?
As for me, the woman, long silent,
Who ploughs the field for me, who ploughs the vulva for me,
Who through the furrow will pull the plough with his bull?

DUMUZI:

O supreme queen, the Lord ploughs thy vulva!

Dumuzi I, the Lord, will plough thy vulva!
INANNA:

Plough my vulva, my love beautiful and great,

Plough my vulva, inseminate my womb!

POET:

On royal bosom lofty lies the cedar,

And tendrils grow high on each side,
The ears of corn grow high, corn golden grows in the field,
The garden luxuriant blooms, the tree stands like a hero.

INANNA:

He fruitful hath sprouted, he proliferated long,

He has planted lettuce by the water snake's course.
It is he who loves my body most of all!
He loves the garden in the plain sorrowfully,
And my barley in the furrows full of cultivation,
And my apple tree, the top full of fruit,
He has planted lettuce by the water's edge,
My honey man always sweetens me, my honey man,
He is my dear lord, the honey man of the gods,
Who loves my body, my womb, in all weathers,
Of honey his hand, of honey his foot,
He makes my life sweet with his sweet greeting,
The impetuous desire, the tenderness at the navel,
The thigh's tenderness is no nurse's fable,
It is he who loves my womb most of all,
He hath planted lettuce by the water's edge.

DUMUZI:

Oh, thy breasts are like glorious jampuses

And like shells are thy wonderful breasts!
Green plants thy wide field bears,
Grain bears thy field, thou fertility of the world.
The water flows down, the water is thy slave,
The bread from heaven comes, the food is thy slave,
Give drink to me, Inanna, I am full of desire,
I drink all that thy breasts offer me!

INANNA:

Make thy milk but sweet and thick, beloved husband,

I drink thy milk, from the honey I am the full,
Dumuzi, wild bull, make thy milk sweet and fat,
I drink your milk, drinking is my happiness,
The goat's milk you pour into my sheepfold,
The goat's cheese and the cream I'll enjoy,
My lord Dumuzi, I'll eat your roast,
The sheepfold I faithfully guard for thee,
Guard the house of life, full of abundance,
Guard the bright place, Chaldea of delights,
And the decision place, where fate is decided,
The place of destiny, from where life's breath flows,
The house that gives us the breath of life, the gentle breath,
I, the queen, will look upon these houses.

DUMUZI:

I would like to go with you into my garden,

O woman, I want to go with you into my garden.
I want to go with you to the beloved apple orchard,
I will wait for my sister by the apple tree,
That I may plant trees there, stuck in the ground,
The apple blossoms are covered with nectar dust.

INANNA:

He brought me to the beloved apple orchard,

Dumuzi took me to his apple orchard,
I strolled with him by the green apple tree,
I also stood with him by the fallen apple tree,
By the tree I knelt, as I should have,
My brother sang a song I loved to hear,
Then in the poplar tree he sits high in the top,
He came at noon, heated by the sun's heat.
And will my dear Lord Dumuzi come to me,
I water the plants from my bosom, the pious,
I'll plant and I'll let grow plants,
The plants I water, I water them for him,
And I watered the grain, the golden grain,
I poured the grain from my womb's sheath.
And last night, when I, the mistress, shone bright,
When I, the queen of heaven, shone bright,
When I shone forth and danced my dances,
I sang my praises to the night, to the warm night,
I sang praises to the night, to dreams and to sleep,
When my beloved lord met me in the garden.
My master Dumuzi slipped his hand into mine,
He pressed his body against my warm loins.
The priest is ready for loins and for womb!
Dumuzi is ready for loins and for womb!
The plants and the herbs are green and fruitful today,
O your abundance is my joy of life!

POET:

She called him friend, he met her in bed today,

She called him to the bed to gladden her heart,
She called him to the bed to her sweet loins,
She caressed him with her royal hands,
She claimed for herself the royal bed,
The queen in bed, she called his friend to bed.

INANNA:

Let the bed be ready that it gladdens the heart,

Let the bed be ready that we may jest in love,
Let the bed be ready, the queen greets thee,
Let the bed be ready, that the loins may be sweetened,
Let the queen's wedding bed be made ready,
Let the royal bed be prepared for the wedding!

POET:

Inanna spread the veil on the bed,

She called the king, called the king to her bed.

INANNA:

The bed is ready, it smells sweet in the shade.

POET:

She called the bridegroom, she spoke to her husband.

INANNA:

The bed awaits thee, the land awaits the Lord!

POET:

He put his hand in the hand of the mistress,

He laid his hand upon the heart and breasts of his wife,
He laid his hand on the lap and sex of the goddess.
Sweet is the night's sleep, so arm in arm united,
Sweet is the night's sleep, so heart to heart united.

INANNA:

I have bathed for the bull, the wild bull,

I bathed for the shepherd, for Dumuzi,
I sweetly perfumed my loins with perfume,
I painted my mouth, for I glory in kissing,
I painted my eyes with black eye make-up,
He gently kneaded my loins, I kept on waving,
The bridegroom filled my lap with milk,
He stroked the hair, the curly pubic hair,
He laid his hand on my vagina,
Of his cream so my black boat glided,
He caressed my vulva on the bed,
The high priest now I caress on the bed,
The shepherd I caress, I caress his loins,
The shepherd's phallus gently caresses my mouth,
The phallus I kiss, that's his most sweet happiness,
And so I'll make his eternal destiny complete.

POET:

The queen of space, who all the world desires,

The hero's wife, more glorious than her mother,
She asked, Who was the man God presented to me,
Enki recommended to me, who was the strong hero?
The first-born of the moon has decreed
To the shepherd his fate, to his life his order.

INANNA:

The leader you are in war and battle,

The armour-bearer thou in the battle of the night,
Advocate am I in the great congregation of the people,
Inspiration am I and protector from the enemy.
The good shepherd you who keep the shrine,
Lord of Uruk, prince of the land alone,
Thou whom the light of the shrine has met in pilgrimage,
Blessed in every way, in every work.
So hold your head high in the throne, O son of man,
And sit still only in the white jasper throne,
Cover thy head with thy golden crown,
Wear long robes, and spare thy body,
Wear thy royal robe in thy kingship,
Take the battle-axe in thy hand, the sword in thy right,
The long pointed arrow, the bow in thy hands,
Let the lasso hang loose on thy strong loins,
Walk the straight path, the sceptre in hand,
The gold sandals on your foot to go through the land.
On my holy and full breasts dance!
In my sacred and tight vulva prance!
Chosen shepherd thou, fit for jest,
A long life your heart shall enjoy.
Your fate is determined, it will not be changed,
What Enki ordains for thee, thy lot shall not be changed.
Ningal‘s darling thou, give me sweet kisses,
Inanna loves you, Inanna loves you!

POET:

Ninshubur was the servant at the golden Uruk shrine.

And to the servant said the queen, the pure,
Dumuzi thou shall lead to my pair of thighs,
Dumuzi thou shall lead to the hair of my vulva.

NINSHUBUR:

O my queen, the chosen of thy heart,

The dear bridegroom, ready to play love‘s sports,
May he spend an eternity
In thy grotto full of love's sweetness
And long may he give thee love's lusts
In that paradise which is between thy loins!
Give thou the dominion to him that everyone recognises,
Give thou the king's throne with firm foundation,
Give him the shepherd's crook, give him the golden crown,
Give him the diadem, the seat in the jasper throne.
Where rises the dawn, where sinks the sunset,
From the north full of wine to the south full of bread,
From the upper shore to the lower ocean,
From the Huluppu tree to the cedar tree, I exhort,
Let his shepherd's crook protect us in his hand,
As a farmer, let him make the fruit rich in the land,
As a shepherd make our flocks plentiful,
In his kingship be fruitful Mother Earth,
The green vegetation be our horn of plenty,
When he reigns, the golden grain shall ripen in abundance.
He shall hear the fishes and the birds chattering,
Let the reeds grow high in the crane field,
Let the bitch and the deer multiply,
Let honey be everywhere, let wine be like a lake,
And the lettuce and the cress are in every farmer's possession.
In the royal house be long life,
Let the Tigris and the Euphrates always be in flood,
That the meadow may always abound in green plants.
The woman of fertility shall stack grain in heaps,
O Queen of the Universe, let men be drunk,
Inanna, queen of the universe, great,
Long may be the time he enjoys in thy lap,
All eternity of love shall not end,
The sweet love-play of lips and of loins!

POET:

The king now with uplifted head

Towards her vulva and her frizzy mop of hair,
With head held high, the sceptre in his hands,
He went to Inanna and her hot loins.
With head held high, he went to the mistress,
He opened his heart to the love-priestess.

INANNA:

The joy of my senses met with me,

We rejoiced together, the vulva is open to him,
And he receives the lust, receives the love lust
From my holy and full, naked breasts,
He brings me to his house, the sweet and the nice,
He lays me naked on the sweet honey bed,
My sweet darling lies in my lap with delight,
I kiss my husband with a deep kiss of my tongue,
Dumuzi loves it very much, I do it again and again,
Yes, seven times at night I kiss his phallus.

DUMUZI:

O sister, set me free, O beloved, set me free,

That you may be my daughter and that I may be your father.
Beloved sister come, I go into the hall
Of the glorious palace. Free me and all!

INANNA:

My flower-bearer, O how sweet was thy charm,

In the apple orchard you, my husband in paradise,
My apple-bridegroom in the lovely apple orchard,
How I love thy charms, wild and tender!
My husband without fear, my most beautiful image of God,
With sword and tiara, how sweet thou art and mild!

POET:

O saint, a man climbed the date palm,

A gatherer, that he might pick, climbed the date palm,
Inanna's palm tree he climbed in strict cultivation,
That he might pluck it, the overripe fruit!
The dark ripe fruit he brought to Inanna
And also the bread of heaven, the unblemished manna,
The fruit he gave her with deep sympathy.
And yes, then he took it, forsooth, then he took it!
And yes, then he took it to examine it carefully,
Like a precious stone of the virgin‘s light depths,
He took and tested it like a precious stone,
And lapis lazuli he took, and jasper pure,
And from the heap of very precious stones
For Inanna he took it, the chosen one.
The butt-pearls she found merry and glad,
She sat on them with her apple bottom!
Inanna found beads to put around her head,
Found lapis lazuli to put it on the neck,
Gold threads for the hair and rings for the ear,
With honey she anointed the sweet mouth,
She put on the gold of the royal hall,
She wore the nose ring as did all the maidens,
She planted a tree in her navel,
She poured out the honeycomb into her vulva,
The alabaster she took for her bottom and vagina
And in her vulva she put a weeping willow,
The weeping willow trunk in her vulva hair,
Sandals she drew on her bare feet.
The precious stones on the heap she hath gathered,
Sagidda was sealed and barred by the Lord!
Inanna also gathered much precious stones,
She was made happy by her friend in love‘s sports!
Dumuzi met the bride Inanna, says the fable,
In heaven's high house and at heaven's navel!
The good shepherd he who met his girlfriend,
To love her ready and ready to sweet sleep,
The good shepherd he, Dumuzi met Inanna,
Her in the residence of the princely Eanna,
Of lapis lazuli was the door fashioned,
He met her when it was open for and for,
The good shepherd he, Dumuzi met Inanna,
Her in the residence of the princely Eanna,
Inanna led him to many gems,
She led the husband to his desire's goal.
With caresses she took him, caressing him lovingly,
With thighs she took him, her husband, without pretence,
In the midst of her two spread thighs she
Caressed her husband full of sweet sympathy.
The whore now sent the message to the father:
The harlot now danced the message to the father.

INANNA:

Hast thou hastened to my house, hastened to my house?

Hast thou hastened into the house, hastened to me into the house,
To throw me as queen from my throne,
Hast thou hastened to my house, to throw me from my throne?
Since I have prepared for thee my broad bed,
Didst thou spread there for me so sweetly and kindly
The lapis lazuli and the pure gems
On the white sheet for me, pure and fine?
That is where I want the man of love,
I will have him in bed that I may satisfy the hunger,
He will then put his hand in my hand
And with his heart will stir up my heart within me,
So sweet is night's sleep, so hand in hand, full of jest,
So sweet union in bed heart to heart.

POET:

Friends say, O thou art a mistress!

Witnesses to thee are lords, witnesses to thee are lords,
Great queen, woman who loves gladly,
Witnesses are the lords, when the mistress gives herself.
You who are to be caught in a foreign land like birds,
Witnesses are the lords, it is now the rule.
Thou art torn as strange lands afar,
Inanna, queen, witnesses are the lords.
The eggs broke in two, the first is full of grief,
The second is by the stream that overflows, the peasant,
The third is the man who always catches birds,
The fisherman comes last, who thinks of the fish.
INANNA

I will send messengers now to the good shepherd,

He will bring me butter and milk with open hands.
I will also send a messenger to my farmer,
He'll bring me honeyed wine with diligent skill.
And also a messenger to the fowler rides,
Who spreads his net for the queen, the woman.
To the fisherman, too, the mounted messenger swings,
That the fisherman brings me the biggest carp.

POET:

Witnesses now brought gifts to the beautiful bride,

The fowler brought her a little bird, I think,
The fisherman brought her the greatest fish of all,
The carp in a pan came to the table,
The shepherd brought her the pail of butter,
Dumuzi carried the barrel and brought her the fodder,
Who carried the butter and the milk on his shoulders
And cheese he also carried on his pair of shoulders,
The shepherd came into the house, then he spoke with glee,
Dumuzi is ready, Dumuzi has come!

DUMUZI:

Open the gate, woman, open the gate!

POET:

The mother heard that, the mother went and spoke.

NINGAL:

Inanna, verily, thou art his spouse,

He is thy husband, and thou art his goddess.
Be a daughter to him, a dear little daughter,
Then the husband will be a good father to thee.
He comes from a foreign land in a beautiful shirt,
And your mother is now almost like a stranger,
Accept his mother as if she were yours,
Accept his father as if he were yours.

DUMUZI:

Open the gate, woman! O woman, blessed of God!

POET:

Inanna hath bathed herself beautifully in the bath of water,

She anointed herself with oil in costly delicacy,
She put on the skirt, the royal gown,
She took the talisman, she took the amulets,
She hung the string of pearls on her bosom,
She took the seal in her slender white hand.
The young mistress now stood waiting in silence.
Dumuzi pushed open the door in haste, and always
And eternally beautiful the woman stood there in the moonlight,
To receive the man in the door of her house.
He looked at her with delight, he rejoiced in her,
He took her in his arms as if she were lying on a pillow,
And with his mouth he began to kiss the woman.

DUMUZI:

O Lord, I have come home, I am married,

O Lord, with me has come the most beautiful bride.
My master, receive her into your high hall,
O my bride, O come, come, young maidens all!
Inanna, come with me to the chapel there,
Come into the house of God and hear God's word,
Then you shall behold my God and his beauty,
Who is the creator of all beautiful women,
At the right hand of God you will sit in the throne,
At the right hand of God, in spite of all mockery and scorn.

POET:

Though he thus spoke to her and did not complain,

She sat down in a chair by the window and said:

INANNA:

It is very hard, my husband, what awaits me there.

I have but obeyed my dear mother's word.

POET:

He came to his god, the god of wise speech,

He haluted his god and slurred his prayers.

DUMUZI:

My master and my lord, who lives in love!

INANNA:

My friend, I do not know how to weave on the loom.

POET:

He put his arm around her and said freely:

DUMUZI:
I've kidnapped you into love slavery!
I have prepared for thee the feast unforgotten,
You sit at my table, you will eat good food,
Though my mother did not eat at that table,
Nor my brother, that thou may'st know this,
Nor did my sister sit at that table
And eaten good food there at that table,
But thou shalt eat good food at this my table,
Here thou shalt eat white bread, here the broiled fish.
O my fair bride, my breath and my life,
At the loom thou wilt weave me the fairest garments.
And you will spin yarn and comb the fleece
And knead dough for me to sweet white bread.

POET:

And she embraces the bull, Dumuzi, her husband.

INANNA:

I am pure splendour, the sun without shadow,

I am the morning star in the morning sky,
I want you to be love, I want you to be love!

POET:

The women I often hear singing love songs.

INANNA:

The husband came up, my star has risen,

He is to me like a well-watered lettuce,
My garden and my grove tremble when my darling approaches,
My corn is lush in the furrows of the field,
O, when my darling comes, my heart grows fonder,
He is like a well-watered lettuce to me,
My apple tree is full of fruit when he comes near.
The honey-man, my friend, will always sweeten me,
The gods' honeyman will always greet me with blessing,
He greets with honey hand, he greets with honey foot,
Sweeten me with his mouth and his blessing greet.
The honey man sweetens my naked navel,
My thighs he spreads like a fork,
With strong arms he embraces me when he comes near.
O my vulva is a delicious salad!

POET:

On the house of Eridu is divine promise,

The house of Sin from God is praised and praised,
Eanna is his house, his house in this world,
God's house is presented to you today.
In God's temple the enduring cloud floats,
The name of truth is revealed to the people,
The heart of truth shines in radiant vision.
The bed is prepared, the throne is of jasper.
And Gibil has purified the golden shrine for you,
The queen of the reign has joined her friend,
The Lord has built the altar of sacrifice,
He performs the rites in the temple wonderfully.
The sun sank into sleep, the evening has fallen,
She looked at him in bed, her gaze like love's spark,
She caressed the lord, her life she gave to him,
To God's rogue she gave all of herself intimately.
She longed, she longed for the marriage bed,
She longed for the bed of jubilation,
Her heart longed for the bed of sweet love's time,
The kingdom's bed, the bed for ever and ever,
His honeyed bed, his honeyed bed,
The heart's joy's bed, that she may enjoy the pleasure,
The sweet womb's bed, the queen's bed,
The kingdom's bed, there she gives all herself,
He covers the bed for her, the unpolluted pillow,
He makes the bed for her to kiss her intimately.
To the king the woman spoke sweetly about his bed,
She speaks life's word of love's paradise.
The worthy vizier of the city of God‘s Eanna
Took his right arm and leads him to Inanna.
O may the Lord, whom thou call'st sweet heart,
Enjoy in the sweet bed thy love's sweet jest,
Give him dominion, bride, for his grace is glorious,
Give him the royal throne, for he is faithful and true,
Give him the sceptre, give him his staff,
Give him his crown, give him the royal hall,
A diadem to his head and a wreath to ennoble,
Give faithful servants to him who only reprove the wicked,
From sunrise to sunset,
From south summer's delight to north winter's gloom,
From the pond to the sea, let every man serve him,
From the huluppu tree to the tall cedar,
Give him the rogues and the faithful staff,
That he as a shepherd may shine light on his sheep,
That he may feed the eaters and bless the farmers rich,
That he may help the children and those who mourn.
As shepherd he feeds the sheep in the meadow,
As lord and bridegroom he makes the woman happy.
In his dominion the green of the plants shall grow
And nature shall be fruitful for the sake of the world soul,
The Euphrates, the river shall be full of flood,
Grain shall ripen to gold, the vineyard shall bear wine,
In the pond shall swim the multicoloured flock of fish,
The birds shall chatter sweetly, the tables shall bend,
And in the crane field grow golden reeds,
The birds chatter sweetly and the choir sings soft,
The trees grow tall and rich in blossom and leaves,
Never shall thunder's thunderbolt shatter the strong tree,
The wild bitch shall multiply, the deer,
Let the honeyed vine flow, let the wine be like a lake,
And cress and lettuce in abundance shall have the peasant,
The king's life shall be long-lived.
May there be floods on the Tigris and the Euphrates,
The grasses grow tall, the vineyard yields wine,
Let the meadows be green and the pastures fertile,
The queen reigns, the queen of women,
The mistress of nature with her naked breasts,
With her naked breasts, the queen of the universe,
Wife of the universe, the divine, the great,
The bridegroom long live in thy sweet womb!
He goes to her womb with his head held high,
He goes to her womb, to her vulva's mop,
He praises the queen, the divine, the pure,
In love he embraces her, the Sacred Whore!

PART XIV

IN THE VINEYARD OF VENUS

CHAPTER I

In all the evils that a love-storm excites,

It rains on my head, I seek new light,
Cheer my brow, no more moved by woe,
The soul's joy be my smiling face.

The daughter of God wants to appear beautiful and young to me,

She still sucks well, she still sucks well,
Awaits blows silent and without crying aloud,
No bitter face and no foul humor.

To fuck she stretches her neck high, her hair swaying,

When she feels the bust with her delicate fingers,
Then she makes bad play, then I'll make bad play.

The gestures are all the same, the loins come into play,
I'm not rude, I kiss her hands,
Kissing makes me good, I'm getting better now.

II
Death the lance brings into this hot confinement,
Close them both, the openings, my springtime,
I will beautifully adorn the small fine strands
Of the fair excellence adorned with gold.

And that the wind is not calm in proportion,

He is bound to the power of old,
And down in the vault of the night district, my babe,
The guard of honour stands there against the powers.

Expect the blow, and yet be highly delighted,

For my senses are mad, very mad indeed,
Coral I fill and slender ivory.

O this thy little hole, the rose-red cleft,

I'll give thee all my work there, woman,
Then thou shalt be under the monarch's rule.

III

O shameless is extreme the whore, this angel,

I'd like to catch a glimpse of love's distress.
One bronze each thigh,
That she gives me to do for a little piece of bread.

The vulva is hungry, she is young and not old,

The screwing is nature, it's natural in the land,
The balls quiver for sustenance,
And fun she gives with artful hand.

Though this brings no fame, honour is fleeting too,

But she is hot, lascivious, so sinful and lewd,
The bitch in the brothel every suitor wants to see!

Such is nature. She knows how to offer

The hole in her ass to the young sodomites.
But I confess to you, the act is not beautiful.

IV

Fresh the lancet is and in vermilion,

The quickest effect it does full of gleam,
Who in the handles puts the embers in love's need,
Life is truly narcotic, always slumbering.

Who loves love's sport with thy hot crack,

In the abyss of liquor the pulses throbbing,
Refreshingly delicious this the burning heat.
The hot heat makes the sultry blood boil.
You tickle my body, I lie half asleep,
Then you withdrew, and already alone I met
The bomb in the bed and explosion and victory!

I give you equal pleasure with my French kiss.

Who then still desires the daring excess,
The rest, till he stumbles to war?

O ladies, I pity, have the honour,

I find the narrow way, that is your right,
And know how and where I'd like to be
And yet am ever faithful, the ladies' faithful servant.

Great love is at its height!

Perfect! It no longer grows through new love pains.
The mother bore her, the daughter's soul sparks,
Desire I bear as a pen in my heart.

Lust gave birth to desire, O mistress without fault,

She let herself be mastered and she seized my soul,
Beauty appeared to me, almost like my wife in bed!

She was perceived by me without thinking,

Through the eye into the heart she came very quickly,
And henceforth I pray to the supreme goddess of beauty!

VI

O ladies, you deserve to hear this sound,

I have dedicated myself, the soul and the lyre,
To whom do I give myself? To the ardour of love,
That inspires me, me and many other suitors!

She has only read the other man's name,

As her love's gaze hath kindled my breast.
See the name, O women, of another lady
And her beauty's ornament and sweet charm.

What if my lust still doth paint thee lovely?

When beauty thou seest, when my art shines?
Then, because love is not heavy with full impulse!

Turn thy heart to me, so worthy of my lyre,

For, O beloved, thy suitor is full of love,
Who only sings of beauty and the delights of sweet love!
VII

On this day the forest, the meadows green freely,

The green boy's wish and the sign of his impulses,
I bore the hot wish, thy love was May,
That was the ecology of hot love's ardour.

Heaven sent me instead of your young heart

To the whole flower market, the green world building.
Though no root and too long the hesitation,
But as a result came happiness and lust and joy.

In love's lark not the frosty cold ladies,

The winter goods came to me in value to increase,
The nonchalant stuff flees on the chariot's axles.

The rose and the heart, the two ripen well,

And when to property thy heart sinks without a flame,
By my hope and thy love it shall grow.

VIII

There are three kinds of love. The first is light,

There the instinct acts, there the erotics float
To the boy from the man, and honour, fame and duty,
The other to value even more than their own life.

The other kind is weak, but its splendour is stronger,

It is the man's lust that chooses women's charms.
The third love is of tremendous power:
It is woman's religion, inspired by the Highest Woman!

Two people are bound together and it is called a knot,

Though we give way, yet our lights burn,
For Eros is Lord, for Eros is the Genius!

Altar of death, you bear witness to the ray of faith,

That the goddess Venus is my girlfriend, my bride,
And my girlfriend is, my beloved is Venus to me!

IX

The Greek Sappho sang to Phaon, the flowered one,

The Muse sang his light, his name never faded.
Corinna took for her friend the Roman, the famous,
Ovid sang of her and painted her portrait.

Petrarch in Florence as God Apollo was,

The laurel was his glory, for Laura loving.
But the Frenchman sings, as once Ronsard sang,
But Cassandra was not in love with Apollo.

Do you, beloved, love me with tender desire,

Sing my love song and learn it from me,
I'll sing thee praise in the highest love's fervour.

But I was Ovid, Petrarch and Ronsard,

But Corinna, Laura and Cassandra was
The Muse to me of lust, of passion, of art.

God Eros casts upon me wrath and wild fury,

One day I cut myself loose from his bond.
He saw that I did not humble myself without courage,
That I did not yet deeply obey his command.

He lifted me on the body of the beloved, so found,

He held me bound by foot and hand in the meantime.
The black of my love's hair, bound and tied,
Eros used it as a net and a chain.

Connection was her hair, connection for me to all

Her charms. Dear ladies, do me this favour,
If you don't want me to die today - Hail!

I have a bracelet here to bind my love with,

Which all united bend in the land of thorns and nettles:
My life still is the beloved's slave!

XI

In which hot night my spear of ivory

Blushed the foam of rosy coral?
I pine for the woman, long for her alone,
Now is her time, beauty's hall of fame.

When I lay poured out, soft after my victory,

Within the blossom of light crystal so young,
It coloured my complexion, pale and wan before,
With the pleasure of memory.

It may have come to me too soon,

But engraves on me the happiness of remembrance,
Delays of the neat kind.

She wants the shadow that follows her as a faithful dog,

By sweet night I'll do it, by day and night,
I do it in the night in her presence.
XII

If I will call thee praising, O goddess of France,

Frenchwoman of glory, I can paint thee a picture,
In thy beauty come, but thy love's burning
Not like Venus' glow and her womb's radiance.

Minerva‘s is thy head, and thy voice announces

The glory of the goddess, the armour is of brass,
The eyes' blue ray is pure with light kindled
In my erring brain and falls down to the heart.

Diana art thou, almost the paradise of rest,

So I call upon thee. Your spell bitter-sweet.
In Hymen's yoke I have long served thee, Diana.

The goddess Venus is my eternal lover,

Minerva is also my eternal beloved,
And my beloved is the eternal Diana.

XIII

I knew you were the butt of dignity!

O whore, yes I saw, my baton in the bride
Would not fear to collapse in the womb!
In thy vulva the glue is still brewed,

Which thou dost use to glide swiftly on the jest,

With a nod and a sigh of madness.
All this, O beloved, my heart saw.
I live on the canal as in a barge.

This is the stable, the straw that stings. I saw the guests,
Great was the throng that came to thy feast,
And he that hath no baggage, shall not be well received.

Who pronounces the true glory of the Goddess Vulva?

Alas, sad! None lives with me in my house!
The blind thou seducest, who didst not cling to thee!

XIV

If anyone wants to know what puts me in chains?

It is the Goddess Freedom, I am the son of freedom
And slave! It enslaves the beauty that arouses,
By day and by night. I demand my wages.

In chains my soul cries out in anguish,

How prickly is my heart, I am a hedgehog
On your farm, yet I am loyal,
The poet loves her, and loves another woman.

The fire-glow of the fetters that glowingly penetrates me,

That is what compels me so much to the ardour of love,
She to whom I swore friendship, I would remain faithful.

Not time nor death destroys the close bond of love,

Firm are the holy unions and
The communions' happiness in our faithful love!

XV

You nice one, get up now! You are so lazy! And ah,
The lark joyfully sings to the morning star full of grace,
And the nightingale sings her nuptial yes
And sitting on my rump, I sing the ballad.

So now stand fast, I will see, ye pearls and ye herbs,

The lovely rose red, the buds chaste and demure,
The red carnation and the cow's plump udder,
The water last night, the gentle hand careful.

You went to bed last night, you made me promise,

Early in the morning I'll wake to break your womb!
But sleep ties thee to turn thee again.

I will punish the laziness of thy black,

I will kiss a thousand times thy breasts' pointed nipples,
For I will teach you to rise to love!

XVI

Yes, I reminded the sweet girlfriend of mine:

Today we drink! Ha, of bottles a mountain!
So buy bottles of tart French wine,
And that shall be enough for the whole great work.

If thou dost not, then I'll love gratiaplena

Mary! No, I drink, I drink immeasurably!
And when you are young and beautiful, my Madelene,
You love the climax, be not forgetful of it!

Let me be the ivy god, the drunken wine god,

Then I'll deflower thy fine maiden-hymen,
I'll scatter roses and lilies in the morning.

I am ashamed of milk, of strawberries, my love.

Is it not well? Come then, sweet lady, begin,
Then from us go away our sorrows and our cares.
XVII

O little love, think that my navel saw thee

And not my eye, think that my navel sees thee,
We see each other naked, and naked we are together,
And the city of Paris is still being built.

To love I belong, to love, glory and honour,

The androgynous is what we both howl for,
How I honour you, my dear darling, how I honour you!
And your legs naked, the two twin pillars.

It is not the legs' masterpiece, nor the eyes.

Nor your laughter, nor your hands are good,
But the fountain of my heart, the tears of my breast,

For weeping I can well that longing cool.

And without hope I sometimes have the feeling
Of paradise, when I remember your lust.

XVIII

After my return - oh, that I must despair! -

I gave thee a kiss, but thou art full of ice,
Thou kiss'st me frostily with a corpse's kiss,
So Diana once chastely kissed Apollo,

Grandmother's cheek thus the young maid presses,

So the bridegroom kisses the bride before marriage,
The kiss is not sweet to the taste, nor the lip firm to the touch,
Why are my lips so bitter and so sore?

You shall imitate the pair of turtledoves,

In the pine-tops they steal wild kisses,
They spread their wings and peck with their beaks!

Beloved, all we have to do henceforth,

Is to kiss us like birds in fiery heat!
We want to fuck our mouths with hot love!

XIX

Madonna, my delight, your cheeks glow red,

Your long curly hair is May's rose,
Coiffed by the master who offered you all his art,
It softly caresses your ear, the shell white and clear.

When thou wast little, the bee came to prey

With her licking mouth the sweet dew of nectar.
God Eros came to your young joys.
The voice of thine is sweet as no other woman's voice.

Two mountains of white milk are thy full breasts,

And thy slimness is the epitome of lust,
A young girl thou in naked Julie‘s form.

Juno's lily arm, the graces' breasts and

The dawn's mouth, thy red scarlet mouth,
And a lioness' heart, so proud and so enormous!

XX

The white lance stands in the golden dawn,

The lance is anointed, of standard stiffness,
In the army's camp, and in war's need,
I need it in battle with heroism.

The lance was ready at the last charge, which was

Thy first charge, now must I speak of it,
The attack's end hath been much delayed,
The lance was ready to thrust and break.

Ah, without thee the world would be a desolate chaos,

The divine nature would perish in the void,
If thou didst not fight, so obedient to nature.

Thou hast the instrument of happiness full of delight,

By which we live and that must also be honoured.
How often do we sacrifice on the altar?

XXI

I would be sorry if you had given me cause

To jealousy, when you bought yourself a suitor!
My blood boiled hot whenever you made your bed,
I only wanted to be defeated when you wrestled with me wildly.

Now my hair grows grey, age robs me of strength,

I don't think about how I'm slipping away from time,
I have been strong in life, so that it allows me
To lie in the grave on my right side.

Carcass old and rotten, that I use with magic,

A dry skeleton, the skull no longer clean,
The sick I'll enjoy in spiritual derangement!

Venus' law is to praise the girl highly,

When she loses in the marriage bed the virgin's hymen.
And after that I so eagerly must pine!

XXII

Hail to thee, O furrow empty,

Which is strong and fruitful, receptive in an instant,
Hail, O opening, blessed art thou,
You make my life beautiful, you make me overjoyed!

It is you who torment me, yet you didn‘t torment me more

Than the boy with the arrow troubles me.
My strength is already fading at your swan's neck,
Four nights no more, you come but one more night.

O little hole, O hole so narrow, O tender hole,

On soft skin the hair curled,
Who reigns like thee, O hole, with thy proud heart?

The cavaliers all adoring honour thee!

To the vulva all knees bend adoringly!
The men come, hot candles in their hands!

XXIII

Out of my mouth, my ass, and away with your hand!

Give me the sweet lust, Venus' delicacy!
Lady Liberty, give me thy bread in Liberty's land!
Such is the law in matters of state.

A refrigerator without blood, such is thy cold life.

The lust wants to graze in your desire roses.
The crown you wear in your hair, and it wants to give,
What long tradition is in the land of the French.

Though thou wilt say that in high heaven Zeus

Does no good work without guile, I know,
That only Zeus' crown be not damaged!

He is stronger there than you are here!

He has a Son! So, my love, give me peace!
Or else my semen, ah, they will fall to the earth.

XXIV

O pussy plump, O coral dimple sweet,

O goddess of nature, of all the universe,
O cave under your hair, O heavenly paradise,
O nectar-spring, O pussy, one-and-all!
Now between your two bones are all my hopes,
The white flesh, the hair so black, I want to dance,
The pussy now more than even the bottom stands open,
The henchmen of the court raise their lances.

The chancellor loves me not, because I have a beard,

He loves the meadow only mown and well shaven,
The back he rides as a love-struck tomcat.

When first the mussel's need is diminished,

Then comes the chancellor to Venus Medici,
Then he imitates his father on the war front.

XXV

That many wicks are new, let me lament,

Extinguish the torch, ah, of love's nature!
It saddens me only what the court says,
O boredom, my face grows sick with gloom!

The king, as they say, wants kiss and communion,

His girl, plump, fair, by day and night,
Who lends her bottom for silver pieces of wages,
The breach is well borne, and the stiff lance is splendid.

The buttocks devour the goods and chattels of rich ancestors,

Madam Scylla hates hotly the old veterans,
It were better for France's honorable name,

Which was given to me, Saint Louis' other name,

Because it pleased the Lord, the name of my lady,
Than that name of old Nero's seed.

XXVI

The other day I was on the high peak above,

I turned my face from thee and looked away,
Thine eye was blinded, my soul was moved,
And I began again and came back to thee.

Thy glance shot into my heart, became dearer to my blood,

The lightning split the sky as it roared,
And hot I sweated and cold I fevered
At thy glance almost as if to death I was outraged.

If thy fair hand was not a sign, not a delusion,

The snowy white hand, the daughter of the swan,
I would have died, woman, by the light of thine eyes!

Thy shield almost caught the soul overjoyed,

Thou wast pleased, thou wast victorious in an instant,
Thy hand was glad to suck out my heart.

XXVII

Like a flower beautiful she sat among flowers,

She grazed in the grass, she plucked flowers tenderly,
She sent me the bouquet, I placed it in the jar,
The names I learned, the class and the kind.

Shall I not feast on the pain of love's woe?

Love I sang, with my ink spilling!
Thou might'st have perceived a charm
In my love's pain, with lust bewitching me!

I think no more, the grass is no master

Of sweet lovemaking, my spirits thought,
Of youth we live and naked evidence!

In my hobby shall I gather butterflies?

We follow step by step insolent age!
And love, flowers, they are gone with the spring!

XXVIII

I often complain to Cupid of my darling's contempt,

How her cruelty robs me of all peace
And how she leaves me miserable without consolation,
I lament it to his hand, I lament it to his head.

It has remained an instrument to the end,

His head hath ever blighted the night of the afflicted.
But his head also teaches to love beautifully with finesse
And to deceive even the multitude of lovers.

You smell foul breath and the mustiness of the home,

The lungs are sticky with the juice of thick mucus,
Starved is the look, the lips laugh cynically,

So thou showest Cupid‘s power on thy life's stage.

Ah, better Thais still to love, or Phryne,
Than this whore of exceeding power!

XXIX

For thy beauty, O beloved, I will die,

For thy eyes beautiful, O my soul's spouse,
And for thy smile and thy kiss I will woo,
For thy musky kiss and amber kiss, O goddess!
I would die for that long black mane,
For this woman's body, which I love to see,
And for the sternness of the stern hands,
Who often healed me and often hurt me.

I want to die for this beautiful face

And for the voice that speaks like a flute,
For this red mouth, O giver of delights.

I fight and I die for my king Cupid,

Shed my blood yet in battle for him as a hero!
O sweet night of heaven in the bed of thy breasts!

XXX

There is the elastic in your hair, O goddess,

How am I surprised in my freedom, woman,
The flame I love, O my heart's wife,
And how my heart captivates thy light blue eyes.

O strong, living, sharp the flames of love, lively,

Which my hand painted, my brush flawless,
I love, I love very much and above and also below,
It seizes me, I burn, it starts again!

Broken am I, and I am extinguished in nothingness,

O firm covenant of love, O lust that crushed me,
Now only alcohol and medicine can help.

O happiness and joy that once I may die!

Thus works the hand, I seek in need
The deadly sharp sword. It is still cold.

XXXI

Already in the dark grove the great herd appears,

The wandering stars light in the high sky above,
Into deep caverns the black mother earth flees
The day, and on the way the black horses rage.

Mother India is already red in the sky,

The dawn's blush blows on the curling tide,
The hail white covers the wide miles there
And gods lough loud about the blessing prayers.

The west like a star sinks with its crown.

I see the Ardeche, the branch of the Rhone,
I see the nymph laughing, the dawn burning,
So I see the new dawn,
I see it glow with a white blush,
And my darling points to the Orient.

XXXII

O beautiful black hair in a high knot!

O silk bright! O gold of the face!
O eyes of crystal! O great red mouth!
O dew of tears! O soul of sacred delight!

O teeth ivory! O treasure, never out of date for me!

O smile sweet, that makes me fall in love with the woman!
O silk that falls in a hundred folds!
O breasts fair and large! O dignified body!

O silver nails! O snowy hand! O herb!

O thighs tender! O skin of long legs!
Who could ever have described the glory of woman enough?

O body transparent! O limbs pure as ice!

O heavenly beauty! O forgive me, for I know,
It would bring me death if I loved you.

XXXIII

O Jesus! Sometimes when I see young girls,

The devil takes them in their young days,
How beautifully they move their heads near me
And do the same as the sibyls say.

When I see that, ah, the strongest is torn!

I wish I had already fucked them with force!
And they still lose all their innocence knowledge.
Who is like me in art? Who is skilful like me?

I weep terribly in longing sympathy,

They turn their heads and look, I see them,
My hair stands on end, Tell me, what shall I do?

But when a priest with the Bible, with the black one,
Invites them into his house, touches their breasts nipples,
My fear is over and I have to laugh cynically!

XXXIV

She danced in the shoes the goddess Venus‘ praise,

Brunette who took me captive with her legs,
The amber bracelet on her hand was rather coarse
And pearls on the string and chains fair as serpents.

Her hair shone round her soft face,

The skirt was rather short, a touch of sensuality,
Thank the goddess Venus for these thighs of light,
O youth! Once upon a time, long ago.

Princess she was of all the fairest!

And her godmother was by God Madame La Mort!
In that memory she shook her curls,

My heart was aflamed with joy! I am

Ready to kiss the beauty queen!
But she only mocked my pink socks.

XXXV

Love makes us tender like young spring shoots,

And yet, we are afraid on our life's journey.
Beloved wife, you say: My friend, I love you!
Oh, close your eyes, woman, and speak not a word, be wise!

I think the fire is near, it shines in thy face,

My fever in thy heart's bosom wants to flow,
My neck in thy arm with shudder I feel close,
O thy naked neck and fresh sea-fruit!

In the wisteria hear the airs shiver fine,

Beloved, it is night, it is sweet to be alone,
Courage and desire you fan to my soul.

A gentle kiss do on my eyelid,

I see thee, and am confounded, and sigh weary,
See thee smile in expectation of the mystery.

XXXVI

O twenty years young, love is new to you,

Your belly moves beautifully, you can be good for love.
You seem to me a child in a manger full of hay,
What a sweet melting in thy Persian eyes!

The apples on the tree, the branches do not bend,

You are not corrupt, my girl, and I foresee
That in no breastcloth thy firm breasts nestle.
You are the geysha to me, the little courtesan!

The girls' jump-rope game is not yet obsolete, is it?

How beautifully and fully the breasts have unfolded!
But you keep the secret with humility for me.
I often think of your mother as a pious thinker.
With thy cheek's glow thou call'st me executioner,
You make me feel like a wild bull.

XXXVII

O sickness of sex, where men drink fast,

A crackle of porphyry, a frieze like brown grass,
The sleeping bag is ready, a fleece of warm fur,
Drunk with the bath of cattle scent, what fun!

And when a man is dipped in thy baptismal bath,

Satisfy his desire, that transcends reason,
He thought thirst was poison, from thy kiss breathed,
The sparkling wine of thy skin he drank with hot rutting.

O youth, heart's fountain of fun and lust,

Where the herd longs to feed on thy udder's breast
To fill up with love and perfumes and ecstasy!

From all sides flows the nectar of magic,

Life's elixir and cream as never before
And kisses gather in goblets, and I get mad!

XXXVIII

O rubber tears, flow, and shine, cherry, reddish!

The day is tropical, O my darling, immaculate.
Go to the garden where cicadas sleep deadly,
So I called to the heart of the old fat rose.

In the room we spoke, where we met yesterday,

Bengal's rose, O how we must love each other!
Now tenderly in the grove, in the garden to fall asleep,
In your light dress, sleep beneath my kisses.

It is so hot, you think you hear the flight of bees,

Go to sleep, my heart, and float to spheres, higher choirs,
By weeping willows the brook flows with wreaths of foam.

Kingfishers resting by the hazel bushes fan,

So you go to sleep now, I don't know, is it your smile?
Is it water in the brook that makes the stones shine?

XXXIX

Kiss politely, for so the code makes good paths,

But he who has left the cloister follows the impulse,
But the flesh needs the master's great mercy,
Or else conjugal love is but a farce.

The first is appointed, the old in the world,

Who lies on the cushion and on the couch's throne,
Holds his horse in every storm, in every gust of wind,
So check his whistle, his crown.

We will fuck blindly and no one will disturb us,

And sometimes we can hear the loud rattle,
The master exposed, teaches us manly.

But this is uncomfortable. The perversion will grow.

Then on the carriage's vehicle its axles creak.
The prejudice is stupid, the lie is already old.

XL

Ah, thousand beautiful women, the great number to praise,

The beautiful longing and pride they all display,
And every night at the front door is not postponed
And farewell or greeting from the lagoon rises.

The girl young and brown with her eyes twinkling,

The widow vibrating in her thick veil,
The courtesan naked with long lashes waving,
The maiden like a dream, like chaste moonlight.

This is the flight of the lord of sweet carnality.

The fevered one pulled the sack from his breast,
Now Don Juan vows unquenched.

They come and they go, drunk, pale the same,

He summons the devil himself in sacred vaults
And ignores the women and Donna Anna's image.

XLI

How beautiful and cruel is the Sultan everyday,

Drunk with blood and with roses and with cinnamon,
Sucking his pipe with withered lips piteously,
Dream-flowers in his hand, taking murder and love.

He thinks of a body, of curves and contour,

The desire in him flares up for women, beautiful, tender,
He enters the harem, where his women alone
With moans of longing quietly wait for his sweet love.

He passes the vile eunuch,

A shiver runs through him, and on he will seek
The darling of the night, that she may heal his heart.

To whom he has brought the handkerchief, that he may thus recognise her,
She flies full of hope and dizziness in the moment
And yet is not in love, only out of pure boredom.

XLII

The soil burns, the harvest everywhere,

The husbandman holds the scythe in his hand,
The maid complains softly and the pumpkin is already plump,
The sun at its zenith, the bird's mouth is silent.

The desire for flames and for games and for the young,
Good is the barn and the mill and the glade.
Nature in freedom! She is imbued with love-lust!
She puts off the shudder and looks in his direction.

In the acrid smell the belly, firm the breasts,

O virgin or wife, O whore of hot lust,
More brutal than the bull is on the farmer's farm.

The man gives himself to her and sinks into pleasure,

She turns and quickly surrenders her instinct,
O delirium, where springs of the semen a shudder!

XLIII

The sewing, the meal, the laundry, the dishes,

The sweating in front of the cooker, the housewife's constant diligence,
Too poor for the bourgeois, no object of lust for greed,
Everyday tired flesh, in armpits sweat.

She can no longer, her body exhausts the poor woman,

A sacrificial animal, her hair brown as the beasts',
Who opens her shoe, does she need to pass the time?
Where is love's glow in the poor woman's home?

But there is free work that one likes to do,

The work doesn't last till the dead of night
And at worst she must once again go to the dungeon.

One step in the stairwell, O ghastly vision,

Her employer has such a rude son,
He still smells the scent of wool and fleece.

XLIV

Create fever-bright with nothing but fourteen verses,

O tender, shy and blissfully sweet hatching,
Give a bouquet, give roses red from the heart,
Rhetoric wise, old, and young meadow's bouncing.

See the secret of the heart and the aura,

The words sweetly soft, love is celebrated,
Say, is she Helen, say, is she Donna Laura,
Speak of love fair, veiled in mystery.

She would not read as she already knows all,

No loving for thee, intimate and secret, silent,
Then your sonnet would be a brotherly kiss.

Then she would press the page to her red mouth,

She'd ask quietly, you'd answer:
Savour in silence the triumph and the pleasure.

XLV

If I have taken the wrong road, say,

Do you remember, O beloved, the little town?
After noon it was, was a hot afternoon,
Five hours I walked with the loveliest maid.

There can be no such thing, but it must be so,

The soul is alive, we see it blissfully together.
And de la Rochefoucauld, and de la Rochefaucauld?
There was an ocean of white flames of love!

The green park was like the locked scissors

And mighty was the charm of serene birds' hosts,
And your friend's arm you enjoyed so gladly.

Now let us wait for the rainbow.

Essentially it was lust in the garden of love,
Essentially lust and O fellatio!

XLVI

The journeys had made his hair thin,

The limbs were pale, it was the compulsion of age,
He wanted to fulfil his desire in the night,
Every sunday he was timid, he was anxious.

In his dressing gown he once lay in bed

And with the hot wish in his mind he fought,
And the matron was already fat, yet still nice,
A lazy servant offered him his young daughter.

The sacrifice was ready, ready the maiden's hand,

The sacrifice now became a foreplay fulminant,
The swing was not lacking, the churning was not lacking,

But the little fruit did mock the ripe man,

As he vainly endeavoured to mock her,
Ironic, she laughed, You shall be my brother.

XLVII

His mouth was like a spring, dried up and burning,

The foam before his mouth was natural and dull.
He moistened his mouth and his lips bloomed,
To quench his thirst, but his soul was not full.

On a pole steeply sucked the coral tender,

The thrill shyly the fair absorbed.
He devotes himself to desire, mad was his way,
A rush of the moment, the soul lost.

Depressed silence laments minutes in the brightness,

And the bodies often poured waterfalls
Into this abyss, where innocence became a victim.

The shadow abruptly banishes the light that blinded them,

In the same spirit the flower's bloom ends,
The spring poured the dew, the spring bravely flowed.

XLVIII

In this empty space the firebrand is extinguished,

It smells the still air that I am unsheltered,
Thoughts I just read of a trance in a distant land,
The beautiful letter carries me in the morning.

The border is from the land that is far away in space and time,
What do time, space and distance give me?
The paper speaks, it laughs and sighs and cries,
A ghost in the mirror speaks, I think of her dance.

Miracle! There are embers kindled in ashes,

I am reborn and the flame is awaken,
I see thee again and I hear thy mild words.

My heart is filled with a great wonder,

And I am reminded of thy letter and the oracle's whisper,
Of the splendour of thy voice, of the echo of thy image.

XLIX
Take this dialogue, which is soft, gentle and smooth,
Paper of first choice, the pages white as snow,
The first page is the beautiful title page,
Dolphins play around the anchor in the sea.

You write your letter on old parchment

And wrap it in velvet, the beauty is so sweet,
And its lines black, a black fire burns,
The edge of its pages is ornamented with gold.

In its sober and sombre dress beautiful,

Venice's gondola I long for, full of groans,
So golden and so black, gallant and dark and noble.

It is Venice's lord in gracious grant,

I am bound to him, but not by money or currency,
This book, full of love, would gladden my heart.

On fresh cushion lies the marble, beautifully chiselled,

Corals fade away, science blushes,
The suitors are flagellated by their girlfriends,
But those who bewitch the word are killed by the court.

The old men's avarice, you almost envy,

Ecstasies leap silently into the firmament.
All the minutes the countries fly on and on,
Well, even as it is, so princely is the world.

At night, but unloved, he lies in the blossom,

The thumb huge and thick in its goodness,
The eyes roll and the dream closes on the chest.

So far blest in the land, the sweet cry

Of violins in distant Mongolia,
And tenderness, it silences the old god of rest.

LI

I, Sappho, look in the mirror, resembling myself,

In the evening I stand slim and naked and I look
At flexible curves and hips of sufficient sweep
And full of lust I caress myself in the night.

And Psyché, pale and blonde, is fearless and consecrated

As a goddess in Aphrodite's temple.
And Eros androgynous is God. The loneliness
Of the goddess of love I take myself to exemplify.
Of dead flowers in the transparent vase
Morbid fragrance emanates, despair and ecstasy,
And my senses glow, my desires blaze hot.

I look twice and so I love my eyes

And with my mouth I come to suck myself dry,
And four times I see the beauty of white breasts.

LII

With your hand you introduce my beautiful phallus

Into the holy brothel there between your thighs.
I say, with the Pope, that thy love pure
Gives me joys, I am in joy like the angels.

Squirrel-like my mouth sucks your breasts,

There is no bitter poison, like a mother's milk,
The vagina and the penis are man and woman,
The floodgates open and semen flows like gold.

O whore loving, I strike upon thy buttocks,

O honeyed fruit, O secret gate,
The mother earth round, in humility rich the sex,

And every month the moon shows thy bottom,

Your eyes overflow, you float to heaven glad,
From the starry sky the light's reflex descends.

LIII

Summer is now drawing to a close, the earth is now becoming bare,

The light still gilds the horizon with flames,
The ebb stretches still, and red the sky's ray,
A view as of a picture, how all is right together.

And solemnly the day sinks and is thrilled,

The peasants already hear the evening bells.
I am embraced, conquered, beautifully mastered by love,
I abstain from wine and am deeply shocked.

Human nature, O gentle witnesses of torture,

If labour weaken us not, desires not yet hold their peace,
Fate would have it so, accept thy fate!

We have cursed the wicked and Satan's ass!

Every night we implore and sing Angelus!
Holy water overflows the head with blissful happiness.

LIV
In her boudoir, there hovers a red butterfly,
In her hamper, there lies the red silk.
The harmonium sounds, the song sounds to the psaltery,
There the monk turns the page, that he may feast on the book.

The furniture is all of naked rosewood,

In front of the dull window glass the red breast jumps merrily.
The day's dull red a little shirt and what of it?
She has slipped blushing out of the lace panties.

The monk is almost sexy, no priest wants to guide him,

He always turns the pages and reads absentmindedly,
Love only begins when the day's prose closes.

There went woman and monk, the thousand things glowed,

The rose on the bed, painting red blossoms,
And Cupid‘s roses red in sky-clouds pink.

LV

A pagan temple stood in the land of Attica,

Formed thou in it, thou faithful soul's spouse,
As my dream saw thee, as my genius saw thee,
Thy body is the body of an ancient goddess of love!

It is the hard marble and your soft humility,

That without fire burns me in silent grandeur
And eagerly leaves me, I remain behind in melancholy,
Who yet so tenderly caressed thy nakedness.

O Primavera, I want to make love to you,

Virgin, marble image, hetaera in the harbour,
Your underbelly adorned with the finest hairs, my bride!

The beautiful temples are built for your kisses,

And ripe wheat, straw, mad magic nuts,
And birds have built their nests in thee.

LVI

The morning sunlight draws forth round gold,

The folds of satin, daffodils from the dark,
It shines in the hair of the weary maiden
And underlines the shine, the sparkle of diamonds.

She opens her eyes, nestling on the chaos bed,

Capsized in bed and embraced all night.
Now glad to be alone, but lying on her back,
She speaks of her dream, speaks to the bed's splendour.
Breasts swaying, hands tenderly lapping,
Nipples she caresses with deft fingers,
She sees peaceful pleasure before her and without haste

She enjoys the bliss wonderfully like an angel

And stretches out her arms and spreads her taut thighs,
Falls down without a customer, in great boredom.

LVII

There under the brown fleece drawn sweetly soft

At belly's base an obscene victory very cute,
The mound of Venus there, and in front there a child,
French kisses knows the woman, how shines she glad and peaceful.

I can hardly see it, touch it with my hand,

The flesh soft, the eyelids chastely lowered,
And all my thoughts pious to wisdom's summit,
And holy is my heart and blessed is my flesh.

Be not surprised, I am hindered by my humility,

My fishing is dull, I lie still in melancholy,
I fear what I want, the great love feasts!

How thou spreadest thy thighs, this at once my spirit recognises,

That is Venus' mountain, the sacrament of marriage,
Tannhäuser thus grasped the juicy long branches.

LVIII

Bedded in the glow, the nymphs' cheerful jest,

The flesh's stamp this of painful lilies,
The coral of women's sex, the heart of dark love,
Hot with the memory of past vigils.

The feminine moans and focused vibrates,

This is the furrowed spring in fingers of childbearing,
The centre everlasting, the desire there converges,
Paradise, the spasm of languishing consumption.

She whispers softly and I listen to her silence,

At her shivering breasts heavy bend,
A rhythm sets fire to the body's deep rift.

Like images of the gods the jewels beautifully decorate,

O black blood, rise up before red lips of the soul:
Hail, O Goddess Clitoris!
CHAPTER II

THE VIRGIN

The darling you pursue. But her black hair

Is not yet ready for Venus' yoke.
She is still a child and fled from infatuation
And pure and innocent she will not hear thee.
Your newborn calf is grey in the pasture
And seeks the shade on the heated meadow.
It gives not answer to the bridegroom's word with roaring
And mingles with the play of the other young fillies.
Unripe vines that are still quite sour,
Try that full of fear and full of desire, the child.
In the coming, in autumn the beautiful seas of flowers,
They grow ripe and sweet, and serve for liqueur.
You will soon see your caress very lascivious,
Then kiss her head, then lower her head low.
Expect this. The ears are not crowned with night,
The mulberry tree has given birth to blood-red sap.
The flower is not wild, piercing the tunic,
The young bird's feathers are not yet there,
That hindered the time, it does not come to the lime trees,
But he who spurns lust may find delight.
The orchids have just sprung up white,
The promises of autumn are fulfilled, I know,
The fruit is ripe, keeps the sweetness with joy,
Just as a ripe fruit is precise in its rawness.
The bird's feathers, soft are the young wings,
In the leaves the buds are like sparks in the wind.
The rosy maiden keeps the young in prison,
Who jealously yet break through the affliction.
Frightened and confused, she sheds dew of tears,
The mother comforts her, the young woman's fear.
And Hymen smiled when he saw the breasts,
That soon fill her hand with the white milk of desire.
The quinces were fragrant and colourful in the spring,
A soft fleece intact, the maiden's evidence,
Pomegranates open half and open her mien,
And visible the brilliance of rosy rubies,
Chestnut fruit too, dangerous else to me,
The shells crack and blissfully cleave.

THE NYMPH

The nymph he loves says halt with shy sense,

To a grassy bank he draws her tenderly.
She sits down. He comes, is shy, and is open,
Moves a little proudly, with joy and with hope.
And now, by chance, the nymph's hands go,
Are seen on the white forehead, in the black hair,
The curls are curling. She grasps the breast, the full one,
And caresses the man's soft wool.
O beautiful boy, she says, your beard is growing,
Thou art so young and fair, so near me, young and tender.
Come, dear friend, and sit on my lap,
How old are you, my son? How slender are your limbs!
In the gymnasium thou didst win the strife?
And your friends are in young glory,
Blessed art thou! And with her arms she presses down
The man's olives and sank down on his limbs.
Thou lower'st thine blue eyes? O by the God of the world!
Thou art beautiful, thy slender body pleases me!
By Venus! Your breast rises trembling at the word,
Come, boy, lay your hand on this door of heaven!
The round breasts of mine, they rise higher strong,
But that is not all (O know! Already in the park
The nymph dropped the last veil of silk!)
There are other things, too, that distinguish us both.
You smile? You blush? Brilliant are thy cheeks!
Your mouth is rosy and your hair like pure gold!
So Hyacinth once loved Phoebus, and so it is written,
Written also of Zeus and his Ganymedes.
So was Adonis, the beautiful Venus' dream,
Whom Myrrha once bore from a green tree.
Whoever you are, how beautiful are your eyes!
Come on, lad, fuck me! I want to suck the juice out of you!
You alone I want, you alone I want,
For I want to love and to be loved with all my heart.

THE SISTER

He is not to be respected who is my lover,

Who was a lover to my sister in May,
When I spent the day in mother's sanctuary
And good shepherds brought me many a flower,
I know they look on me with my sister,
She is the attraction, the beauty's spell.
To my sister they say, Thou art beauty's image!
What have I lived but twelve years in the wilderness?
No suitor tastes good to me with his sweet song,
Says none that he dies when my grace flees him.
Patience! The time will come when love will reward me,
I know the man alone shall see the attractions,
A thin face and long hair of gold,
In her mouth a string of pearls, a smile so tender,
Eyes light and blue, and long fine lashes,
The eyes shining and the eyelashes softly twinkling.
THE LETTER OF THE DISTANT BELOVED

O strength that drew his hand to the heart undaunted!

O name! Kiss for kiss! The banshee was chased away!
The long road and the experience of my urges,
I was afraid, but then the letter of our love,
Memory, all these are friends in the world,
So only tell the truth! I am with you in the field,
Where the Ardeche flows through Provence with waves,
Ever growing and ever clear the beautiful stream crystallises.
Thy letter promises that here the fair bank blooms,
Where leaves hide the glow with which the sun glows.
And thy name's verse to escort thee home,
Embraces and lust and drink and sweets.
By cares as by fires I am much afflicted,
But my beloved returns to her rest undaunted.
Far from my darling I am weary of jesting
And silently sing my song of her heart's toil.
O woman, where thou art not, neither is the Muse,
In the grove of Helicon no spirit speaks to the poet,
And my hand forgets the strings of the lyre,
I am ignored by the god and his fire.
Though it looks cute, like this beautiful place,
Heaven's friend my verse and God's friend my word,
But my senses are at rest and my soul is silent.
To the Magna Mater I give pearls and jewels.
The colours have created the most beautiful dream for me,
But boredom still reigns under the tree of life.
O thou art attractive, thy charms unutterable,
But life fled from me in a swift chariot.
I wanderer, I ask my love full of feeling
In these caves, here we found an asylum,
Within these walls I trust my woes.
Never inhabited only by me, you wanted to disguise,
Where my harp was silent in the sound of the vaults,
Of thy voice full that entered the grotto.
Memory and pain suck at my soul
And high on the clouds your eyes are dimming.
But crying is bitter for such beautiful grace,
To weep before thee is my sweet love's cult,
And to see thee caress my sorrows,
The tears thy hand dries, the blood from my heart.
You should scold: swear that she loves you! Fuck,
Fuck yourself! Cry aloud and cry aloud with happiness!
How eager we are to see thee again soon!
Thou ruler of hearts with thy sweet contractions!
See thy days thou, full of beauty and war,
And dost thou count each step as a new victory?
What is my misfortune, if at the omitted feast
Do the guests accuse thee of the happiness of mirth?
And thy soul thus silences them,
Which might have been better elsewhere.
O gods! Do you not see? The rats eat crumbs!
Do you not see the beauty of the beloved flowers?
Not on conquest thou leanest thy breast,
That thou may'st have leave and new love's delight,
And that thou may'st smile at night, sitting in the tree above,
That thou may'st there praise flattering voices,
As youth ungodly oft, nothing new under the moon,
And how heaven never spares beauty mild?
Unseen, unknown, gods! Why do we not walk,
Why we are not in veil to see your track afar?
I can be your slave, full of zeal loving,
I wear the garment of faith, as the word hath sounded to me.
What, farther from me, how wouldst thou tend me?
Need, charge, work, thoughts full of blessing!
And when the rocks firm with bitterness hard
Insulted thy weak feet tender,
Then my arm is not there to press thee slow firm,
The burden is heavy, but sweet to the suitor is the fucking!
It's not so that you can take it upon yourself,
Not far from the object of lust blissfully lives the man.
Beloved, once I wooed thee fiercely
And rather than to lose you, I would die!
And then a beautiful tone in your letter asks,
What do I want from you? Let it be told to you.
What do I want? You want to know my opinion?
I want you day and night! But you in appearance
Want to love slowly only, oh that I am inspired
Of love day and night! (How my heart torments me!)
So in the bosom of the night think thee near me,
Flow over and look into my deepest soul!
And when you return home from the feast, oh gods, in the bed,
When this paper gently to thy lips draws near!
Lightly wrapped in silk, when thy soft hands
Do deign gentle pressure on thy sweet loins!
Yes, Cupid flew up and said without mockery,
In my poet's spirit and soul God breathes!
Thy heart a high good to me yesterday as well as tomorrow,
Beloved, may all cares depart.
In my veins quietly and calmly my blood flows
And sweetens my inside like honey milk.
And my soul is at home in the bright heaven!
Beloved, are you far away in the worldly bustle,
As your soul slept in the shade of the oak,
And once more wouldst thou check thy letter,
My beautiful darling weeps in sadness all the time!
I read the lines silently, in deep peace of mind,
I want to press your letter to my lips.
I think of you naked... O woman, I want to fuck you!

AS SHE HAD FUCKED WITH ANOTHER.

What do I see? Alas! The gate is locked!
Has the secret door closed it for me?
Beloved, I am open to thee! But you do not come.
O God, is she not alone? The voice whispering speaks,
It's the voice of her friend. They talk for a while.
I tremble with fear, I quiver in hot haste.
What is this? Open up! Why delay stubbornly?
Why should the dying man's hair be richly lured?
Why then this fear and these sweet contractions?
Why wilt thou alone see the friend with thee?
It seemed to me I heard two secrets breathed,
Whispered, not in a storm, my ear in silence doth dip,
But why blushest thou, paled beneath the veil?
O heavens, she fled! There was a second suitor!
O gods! A fraud! But I have had her!
O girlfriend, open to me that my heart may be glad,
Let me speak with thee, let the gate stand open,
In vain, in vain is my love's hope!
I was more familiar with my beloved's love,
In my spare time I created a work of learning subtle,
A work of language deeply learned, I gave it to all,
But what I saw, I did not like.
O gods, the sex of woman, of false spirit,
What hath she not tried, sometimes timidly, sometimes boldly,
So she laboured to deceive me further,
To nestle in my open arm with tenderness,
And so she shot me! The voice as if breathed,
Her eyes open and bathed in tears,
Wildly her dishevelled hair wore chaos of lusts,
Her breath hasty still, her breasts bruised!
Caresses full of ardour from her heart's bottom,
Caresses, and I caressed her mouth.
I have seen! Ah, I saw the night of sin!
She fled from me as pure, and without further cause,
And I promised myself for consolation a dream
Of love, of lust and happiness in the fairest heaven.

I LOVE HER NO MORE

I love her! Yet another possesses her!

But when one gets used to the evil one, he uses them.
Medicine doesn't help, the poppy doesn't help much,
My whims are in vain, I will suffer no more.
I cry the elegy, the elegy of my life,
Go, art, go away, art is also in vain!
Will you leave the laurel to me? Can you escape, woman?
The support I would like to have, lo,
Go, muses, when you can no longer help with gifts,
We no longer caress each other as we would have caressed us,
Promises are ever on kissing mouths,
Memories of pious foes,
Projects, hopes, patience, what she allowed,
We went as far as the sea. The city that robbed us
Was far, and peaceful was the silence, full of feeling.
And only in the kingdom of heaven the asylum is open!
And there your mind will love me ardently!
Flee vain luxury, till nothing is left us,
And without witness I'll leave it mysterious,
One eye deadly and one gaze eager,
So thou art not known, and thy secret flourishes.
I live only for thee, my mind and spirit are ardent,
Let thy desire and thoughts be known to me,
And so I am a spy. And her hair entwines me
Of her head in the night, her hair tied in a knot,
And naked she stands before me save for her slip!
In my hand the pen heaps words every day
And does my love make you blissful? Say!
Destroy my book each day's evening!
Thy table, by my hand, is rich in bread
And pure water becomes ambrosia to thee
And I am everywhere at all days
And am thy faithful servant and ever-ready suitor,
The wind in vain went away in its veil of clouds!
If hope flattered the great desires of thine,
So hast thou forsaken me, sighing in silent agony.
How often have I said, Don't be so fickle!
I don't like lovers who are so cold-blooded!
Let me rather groan with the hot blood of the sword,
Rend my loins, my heart, with the blaze!
O sex! On thy knee I lean with groans,
I wet thy foot with kisses and with tears,
I adore thee! And so calm thy sorrow,
And rest is for me thy faithful love's oath.
Does my pain offend thee, and can thou feel the fear?
But thou art not minded to fan the flame's embers.
A sceptre I will give thee, if thou swear by faith!
And wouldst thou not be happy to belong to me?
By discourse thou wouldst be full of faith, and I would think,
The brightness of the sun shines in my dark nights.
She wept softly even as on her friend's grave,
I hastened, with the cloth I wiped the tears,
I dried the dew of tears with the duster
And in the wardrobe I kissed her knickers!
I fool! I blush and blush a thousand times over!
And my lyre has been singing thy praises for ten years.
It s all now buried in the sea and in silence,
To bear witness to my folly and madness!
The same lyre, yet full of wrath, takes revenge,
But I think no more of treachery, and I think,
I can no longer refrain from sighing,
So I hate you, loving becomes hating!
I hate you, I hate you a thousand deaths hard!
Enough, enough! You know: I love you no more!
THE WINE GOD

O stay, O stay with us, O lord of good wine,

O Bacchus, have mercy on us, thou whose sea of being
Pours us forgetfulness, thee honour our sufferings,
From which fled Cupid deeply humble
And has evaporated! Like the crystal, the swift lightning
Of thy spirit blows good fragrance from thy heavenly seat.
Nothing is more blissful than the peace of sweet death!
Dear friends, full of consecrated bread,
Let life flow in chit-chat and banquet,
Ye need never think! Dame Folly lies in my bed!
The empty soul only, the soul full of grief
Is restless, and knows not joyful thrills!
I know not exactly, but I hear,
Your spirit is everywhere and full of charm for me.
Your name wanders in my ear with sweet impulse,
The wine is my light, that awakens the fiery love!
In Cyprus' grove of gods, piously consecrated to Venus,
To Bacchus the wine ripens in its holiness.
I fear that hate and revenge will be my masters,
For all the gods may be but evil spirits?
But I remember when wine was used,
The wine-god gives us cheerful bliss at the feast.
I hastened to sip the cup piously with my mouth,
The full cup to thirst-stricken lips,
The nectar of love this, from the servant, the son of God,
And new he kindled the passion of love!
I take her by the hand, as the intercourse tickles us,
And I ruffle her hair, and her mockery quips,
She laughs, and thereupon I, in spite of her jealousy,
I came to her mouth and tried a kiss.
I care for the trick, I sighted the breasts,
The tips of her breasts erect with delight,
Sweetly aroused by lust the tips of her breasts,
So I play my song to the lyre of sweet delight,
On this breasts the hand that plays the harp, O ye muses,
I followed my hand upon her full bosom.

THE LAMP SPEAKS

O night! I once swore to the sinner full of urges

With my full mouth the eternally beautiful love,
And to thee the oath of fidelity is sworn, true,
The sinner, ungrateful, loves another woman.
To love her hot, he swears aloud by all the giants.
And already he is proved by me to have perjured himself.
Thy light, O night, loves lust, the star loves love,
Set on marble here, I will shine till day.
Thy dungeon in the glass, the sacrificial feast lights,
Witness how he moistened his promise.
Uncertain he was in love with the woman, corrupted,
Consumed he was, used he was, and he died.
Thus is the love vow of the beloved mouth
In loud smoke blown away, in the smoke of the underground.
But beside his bed I have kindled the light,
To shine our love's sport in the night.
Extinguish not, O light, at the sight of crime!
Do not shine on the rival, on the breaking of the promise!
To the unfaithful reveal the lie,
Who is to another what once he was to me.
Now other eyes see thee, spreading in the night,
How deceitful is he, and she how naked and lovely!
Unhappy poet! He accuses me?
I have always done what I could.
But my eyes still shine in spite of sin,
Jealousy will wet my hot lips.
Only yesterday she was weak and seemed to try,
Troubles now thou hast, and thy feet glow.
The day was fled, I shone and I lamented
And to thee my vow faithfully said in the deep dark!
From his body came only faint languor,
From a long sleep came chaste deliciousness.
You kissed her, you left her, you saw her asleep.
The friend went through the door, the whore slept in the harbour.
The door opens and a black mop of hair appears,
I saw for the first time the girlfriend's little head.
In a trembling voice she spoke full of favour and guile:
No, go, my friend, no, go, I am so full of debt!
She spoke it and yet stretched out her arms into the light.
The man, at her side, could not go.
I saw the mouth, the lips blue asters,
I saw the flanks glow like white alabaster,
I saw ebony and pink, coral and azure,
Before he finally left, he showed me nature,
Nakedness beautiful and lovely, made for kissing,
So he flew in the night and on the soft pillow
The kisses awoke life's merriment.
Then proudly the woman boasted in complacency.
The woman looked up and spoke a word, using it for a curse,
The god of love, I thought, helping, supporting me.
I asked the god, he gives everything today full of grace
And tears for the man, the sinner full of guilt.
Ungrateful would I be, to love the wicked still,
That by his keel in the water I have floated.
And remorse, horror was what I alone could do,
I made a great noise for a little wick.
To a thousand flashes of lightning the flame could do.
Then the woman trembled, she turned her eyes to me,
O gods! how before death her little voice hums dying,
Is my murmur silenced by the gods?
On my account stands the debt, by this witness!
She hurries away, and he embraces her still in silence,
Held her back and said, Do not put out the lamp!
I'm not glowing any more, I'm not burning any more in boisterousness!
And you no longer glow either, extinguish, beautiful fool!
I advise the man, Love another mistress!
Love breathe out and be a good shepherd!
Now is the time that my light is blown out.

THE NYMPHOMANIAC

I know, at noon your wish is the cool shade,

You walk on toes on the rock, on the smooth,
Then under cress and the wet pebbles slanting
The nymphomaniac walks alone the silent way.
I have watched here in the free hours
The nymphomaniac naked and found her beautiful.
On a garden bench she lay casually asleep,
The water murmured when I met the beauty.
She hung her lovely head, wreathed with reeds.
The nymph I praised with erotic songs.

FLOWERY LOVE

Is it impossible for you, with your eye beam

To speak, let us talk, you see, the heart ingenious
Gives voice to each, who also is mute like a glacier.
Thy sweet thought is the lovely interpreter.
Desire, fear, caress, oath and grievance, dew of tears
Are your gifts, writing of the beautiful flower blue.
With tulip flames the judge burns like a shower,
Immortal amaranth attests thy duration,
The beautiful orchid, the lily loves delight,
The red rose sighs, the rose is a kiss.
Sultana, each day is happy as a hero,
In thy letter's bed is the bouquet of Cupid!
With sighs you adorn the bosom wonderful,
And whispers of love you wrap in your black hair.

THE FLOWER QUEEN OF FONTAINEBLEAU

The queen of flowers makes baskets fertile for suitors,

The flowers are her play, not useless, but terrible.
The suitor is often avenged by the flowers full of rage,
When he is offended, his wrath's embers glow.
He uses the play instinct, he holds, he presses fastidiously,
With unruliness the flanks are flexible,
On beams secretly the grapes are offered,
He is punished, for blame is his goodness' power,
He is punished very severely, beaten with the blossom,
Because he was so hearty, of godlike kindness.
The silence roars meanly, the teacher is very good,
It roars the lament loud, the mimic of hot rage,
One ignores the cry, the struggle and the movement,
The whip and the dagger, the fierce agitation.
Often there is a strike, threatening is it and evil,
Then he opens his mouth for mercy to deliver him.
Thus before Adonis lay Lady Venus on the ground,
And saw his feet, and the florets, the red ones too.
O such love, sweetly playful, charming dream,
And mother's eyes warm, on the green shore's edge
God Eros caressed Psyché's taut loins,
Shoelaces she held in her spotless hands.
O Fontainebleau! Instead of God the rose was born,
(I think the soul rests, delivered from God's wrath),
I will look up to thee and to the flowers,
To the sky I look, to the shining Aurora
(And my goddess follows me very pleasantly),
On my bed I'll take thy loving to me,
Modesty and charm, and tender fragility,
As alabaster white, as marble choice,
And like a violet's humbleness confound'd with ardour,
And thy mother's breast, with milk of consolation rich!

HOMECOMING

How beautiful the homecoming is at the cold season,

Who comes home before spring, and comes from far,
Then in passing you hasten to behold it,
His black hair dishevelled in the face of women.
His ear has not recognised the sweet charm of his voice,
He flies and weeps and falls into your open arms.
You support him, barely you can suck the breath,
At home you look at him with your eyes.
Much you ask and you lower your voice like a bird,
A reproach and a kiss, then hot love-storm!
The table is quickly set, drinking in a race,
The look of delight forgets the glorious banquets,
The meal on the tray, in peace you feed,
You look upon him with delight, his goodness with rest.
His mouth is silent, but his heart like a nurse
Speaks tenderly, soon his hot flame embraces you,
Leads you to the white bed, there you lie lightly.
You ask with jealousy to whom your beauty resembles,
If he had a lot of fun at the fair?
And whether, far from thee, he ever forgets thee?
THE SWEET BOY

O boy, O boy! You almost blush before me?

But see my face, it has faded for you.
Ah, thy maidenly brow, grace ever softening,
Come! There is another game, not only the game of children.
O boy, know that my heart full of tenderness
Can never forget thy face full of sweetness!
O beautiful boy, on the forehead the delight sober,
Pleasure on thy brow, thy eyes like maidens shy,
Thy breast so white, thy dress round thy limbs stretches,
Yet you ignore that one longs for love.
Come, learn this from me, I'll teach you without fault,
Into my hands only put thy tender soul.
My lessons be not so shy as thou. We thought,
Full of longing we sigh, pining for sweet love!
He finds peace and now plays without mockery.
And I blush shamefully and kiss my God.

KNIDIA

It was Paxiteles and his artist's hand,

Who invented this marble image of Venus beautiful
For the rival of Anchises and of Paris,
Who loved this image of the naked goddess Venus!
He knew that this image stood hollow in the temple,
So he stayed one night close to the idol.
O what a beautiful time, to gaze with hot impulse,
Haunted by the evil rage of unrequited love!
He is always in the temple praying with moans
And flatters her and says she is so beautiful!
He invokes the name, warmly thanking the deity,
He always makes pilgrimage to the breasts and the flanks.
Then again full of fear, full of anger,
He calls the marble image petrified, hard and cold,
Says she is hard as stone and devoid of sweet charms.
Yet she forgives him! He holds her in his arms:
Come, fuck me, he says, and his lips he purses softly,
Come, fuck me with your mouth and melt the long ice!

THE LIAR

No, let me! This word is like a caress deep,

The deceitful one laughs so much, so attractively.
So divine this look, when it gives hurt,
The lip often so soft, and yet in perjury ends,
And yet often kisses so sweet, inhumanly unexpected,
By the seal of faithful desire, and yet oft in vain.
Shall I speak of it, in truth, of evil?
Shall I so dissolve fear, can I solve the riddle?
What is it you want? For what hast thou practised thy heart?
Too accustomed am I that she loves not!
I do not know. Only seldom tenderly
Your carresses grant me a happiness, at the same time
They tell me that under the kiss the lie is hidden,
The trap of thy deceit hath brought tears to my eyes.
O traitor, you shall not betray me!
So treacherous and so beautiful, so badly have you turned out!

ANGER

Are you inventing folly full of harm for him?

We'll get dressed now. O grudge in thy arm!
With kisses thou lovest not, with ever sweeter, soothe,
Reproach pretends to the child's anger!
The word caresses the child to effeminacy,
Unreconciled anger sweetens blasphemy.

HATE AND LOVE

There would be need of humour, of arbitrariness mirth,

(Much beautiful breasts there are!), the injustice
Is conscious of him, he cries and curses, he is deceived,
For thou deserv'st him not as a suitor, to thee well pleased.
His heart is all too good! Heavy is the yoke of folly!
He hates, cursed, thee, and more, he loves thee still!

THE TURTLEDOVES

The two little birds, the beautiful faithful doves

Kiss each other. They will not be robbed of their God.
On their slender neck a little head round and whole
And whiter than the snow the white body shine.
The voice pure and gentle, like children their souls,
The eyes clear, the mouth must not be missing either.
O wanderer, pass this garden glad!
O beautiful doves! O, such beautiful women!
Then he paused to gaze at the games,
Then wandering on, in his soul's pining.
He said, Fuck ye, fuck ye, ye pure doves,
How pure is your heart, your voice is so fine,
How beautiful your black head, how beautiful your white bosom,
Much whiter than the snow, you epitome of the muses.

THE WALK

When now the springtime made the brooks wetter,

In the quiet of the evening you sought the fresh water,
How nonchalant and beautiful was the walk fine,
His mouth was open and his breath fresh and clean,
He broadens his breast and greets you, his eyes glowing with delight,
He calls you to kiss, his fire to suck.
The suitor can come, he need no longer fear
The earth's ground, soft, that he may not complain.
There across the face of the fiery young flower
A smile spreads from the inner sanctum,
Its neck barely supports its head, its gaze glows fervently,
The eyes of fire glow and they devour thee!
And your eyelashes hardly open, that it is day,
And Cupid languishes so tender and despondent.

VENUS APPEARS WITH HER LITTLE CUPID

Too flowery is the beach of Knidos and of Cyprus,

I fear the enemy, I saw the black serpents,
I went as a shepherd to the field of Syracuse
And with my verse gave my kiss to the nymph.
And Venus appeared to me, the queen of spheres,
And Venus brought me the little boy Cupid.
The two smiled. Now, shepherd (Venus spoke),
I leave my son in thy bridal chamber.
Sweetness from the land is his and from the woods,
Show thy wisdom thou, and live it in the fields.
And Venus went away. I believed the voice,
I called the boy, the sweet little child.
I spoke of my happiness, of peace in the field,
Even a Peneios is not enough to water the beasts.
I spoke of the god of wine and of the god of harvest and of Pan.
And of the flute too, that my eyes saw.
He did not listen to what I told him,
He taught me to dance and sing and live joyfully.
How sweet was his kiss, the kingdom of heavenly beauty!
The celestials in love are the same in women.
Venus' glow glows in Hades and on earth,
To love is my delight, and to be loved too.
How surprised I was! How sweet the song of God!
To hear this song the soul never grows weary.
My thoughts were banished and what I desired,
But I never lost what the boy taught me.
So he triumphed, and the reason of his heart
Was sweet as honey and his mouth was sweet.
He stayed in my heart, that he might stay there forever,
My mouth and heart henceforth proclaim God's love.

CUPID IN THE FIELDS

God Cupid loves the field, so the field was born.

The shepherd's daughter there, the virgin chosen,
The heart's rose red, a dawn, a wind,
With the newborn was found, the child.
Sleep yawned on the mouth, the scarlet seal,
Then she grasped him tightly by his golden wing.
A shy little hand was grasped with timid delight,
All was wet with dew, and he laid it on her breast.
The field remained his kingdom with all its splendours,
To all he pleases, his sighing and his languishing.
The most beautiful suns here gild the azure,
And meadows are here and woods in nature,
The stream moves here with murmur and with roar,
And in the air are planted a thousand red roses.
There with the birds he likes to sit down,
In cool grottos dwells the chaste sense of the kiss.
The muses and the god are of the same mother,
The poet's star, the land of honey and milk.

TO THE BELOVED

Unspeakable, dear wife, your loveliness, soul spouse!

Thy kingdom of heaven is like the kingdom of heaven of the goddess!
Can you think of me without total devotion, woman?
Think thou me soulless and without eyes blue?
Well, I confess, as soon as I saw thee,
I could not resist, I took you like a husband!
I was enraptured, human reason conquered,
My heart henceforth obeyed only the law of the rut!
Resentment fled from me, delight became fruitful,
Nothing was loss to me, displeasure was so terrible.
Yes, all I lost in a moment,
I became your slave, and so I found happiness.
Beauty I gazed upon, she whose realm never ends,
I was dazzled by the light of your eyes,
And the sound of your voice enchanted my ear,
In your black hair I lost my freedom.
The loveliness sensitive I love to look at,
My darling, most sensual of sensual-beautiful women,
I admired at once thy fairest beauty, dearest wife,
I thought at once your heart was as beautiful as your body!
That was worth looking at! And at once to adore thee
And to pay homage to you as the poet's muse,
In all things I saw thee, in all things manifest
Was your love, in me was nothing but love!
So I learned the art of love in equality,
Blessing the tears, I liked very much the softness of the heart.
Before my eyes I have you and always your image,
In my heart's midst my beloved, sweet and mild.
Yes, my love's gaze is inflamed by your blessing,
I breathe because you love, and only for your sake!
God Cupid loves in me, the Lord lives in me,
I would live longer if I were not so eager.
You who have not seen the delights of my love's womb,
Enjoy the present, woods, mountains, fountains.
I suffer so far, how beautifully her name sounds,
Forget not the pleasure that beautifies our time.

THE BANE

The beloved:

Poet, it is enough. I see it smiling, timid,

How your illusion lasted but a day!
And when you speak to me, do not cheat that day,
If you want to be loved, respect love.
If the trouble be too great for thee, that pardons thy weakness,
Forgive the evil that comes to thee from others.
Keep not longer the torment of hate, poet,
Though thou forgive not, yet drink thou of Lethe!
And is not the woman now before thee, beautiful beyond measure?
And when you fall asleep, give her a bouquet of flowers.
And the memory of the folly of thy youth,
Is it not sweeter than the virtue of thy aged wisdom?
Thy eye hath seen the flowers of South America,
The flowers on the mountain of South America.
The greenish palace, the aspen's trembling
Knows in the evening to show thee good ways.
And do you not see the glow of the moon beautiful and warm?
How once the body bent so softly in your arm!
Then you found the way of the capricious Fortune,
And above her sounds the song of the maiden Phoebe.
And why do you complain, since the immortality
Of hope soothes thy misfortune's woe?
Nor should you hate the experience of youth,
Evil and hate, the revelation of good.
Darling, I pity the unfaithful maiden,
Who causes in thee the sadness of death!
Teach me! God gave thy heart to the Madonna,
Now guess, that's the secret of your delight!
What then was God's design? The maiden was thy grief,
Fate would have it, so she broke your heart!
The world was made, that thou might'st know it from thy heart,
Another shall gather the fruits of thy sorrows.
Teach me! Lust, like a dream, passes away,
Love is already gone, and soon the wound will close.
Tears did not lie, the moist thieves of the heart,
The world also complains, but you know love!

The poet:

Hatred is ungodly, yes, the cruel pain of horror,

The serpent, weary and foul, hisses in our heart.
O Goddess, hear me and hear my vow,
By the black of Mother Night, by thy eye, beloved,
By the spark of this woman, the virgin on the moon,
By Venus, who glows as a star on the horizon,
By Nature and by the Creator's grace, the silent one,
The star likes to look down on lovers who travel,
And by the meadow grass, the forest's green rampart,
And by the life-force and by the stream in space,
I will banish thee, I will wait for thee no longer!
Love no longer makes a fool of me!
I do not sleep in the past! Enormous
Your name was sweet to me and lovely your form!
I soon forgot how my soul wept,
I now break the spell that united us in God!
With a last stream of tears I take my leave, O sorrow!
And now, O Muse, now comes our high time!
Now sing a joyful song, as we sheltered in lust,
The lawn was dewy, the morning shone fair.
Beloved, come to me, whom I met in the garden,
The divine nature awakes from deep sleep,
We are reborn by the God-Nature,
When dawn comes beautiful from the east.

IN YOUR ARMS

O sword of broom, O thy arm full of hot shoots,

The fawn blows thy arm to knead thy love,
Conceal thy arm and clairvoyance,
In birding the realms blind and wide bathe,
I speak the arrow's wood, O darling, from thy breasts,
Born the sex, the fruit full of lusts.

MILK

O heavy bellies, O like bees lazy the wind,

Like memory, the storm dyed, swift,
How are the eyes clear, promise is kept,
Swollen sweet with milk, with honey the shapes,
From above creamy milk, the boy is nursed,
And from the centre milk, the rose is filled,
A little splash only of liquid opals,
To the drop-giver we stole her treasures.
Not bland food give, to the vulva pepper give,
The straw deep sticks in the barrel with the sieve,
The road promotes delirium in lamentation,
Desperately the moth in the chamber shakes.
Patiently stretch into the truffle thy mouth,
Despise the flagon to thy joy,
With a chisel thou shalt chisel thy thighs,
You languish for the salt of the vulva, you shall scourge
The grip that loosens, a shrill grunt cries,
Thy shining face knows only contentment
And heavy and languid are the times that blew away,
O nurses, O mothers, and O sisters of secretions,
And other women slender and young and fair and naked!
But with the devil thou shalt make no pact.

THE RED FACE

It is the food of the streets that we lead to our mouths,

I love garlic curd and onions, I'm lazy,
When the radio goes silent, then everyone goes to sleep,
The afternoon is lazy, an ox is lazy in the barn,
You draw on the leaf of the thick frocks compulsion,
A toast and new blood and time for those who bang,
In the evening we hear the hymns often, the pious ones,
When men come again from the work session,
Then we are weary, but we fight to the death,
We wrap ourselves dying in our red banner.

CONFESSION

Green and white wax is all that's left, dear ones,

After the funeral the wreaths of flowers remained,
The incense candle smoketh, that taketh away my senses,
A real mourner snorts into his organ.
Now young and voluptuous are no longer her hips,
And the thrill is gone from her perfumes.
But excessive funeral rites let be!
Only the scent of the white tulip remains pale.
The earth open stands and all, solar plexus
And all dies, her lap, that loved much the sex.

SHE IN MY DREAMS

In my dreams is the beautiful resting place

In her smile sweet, so cute and so kind,
Her eyes look wise and her hand caresses,
In my dreams the fair lady is my comfort,
And sweetly she calls me, I'm captivated by her mane,
Her eyes look lascivious, her teeth almost bite me,
In my dreams is the woman who listens to me,
I drink the drink of sorrow, I drink without rest,
In my dreams I often see the spotless one,
The rose in the light, the light in her rose.

THE FIRST MEETING

The first meeting in the nest where we met,

What a terrible thing it was and what a programme,
Of many friends spoke to me the often sorrowful one
And I concealed from her the secret lover.

COITUS OF THE ATOMS

Nothing had happened to the dark night in the wind,

No thrill spoke of the world that now begins,
All formless, colourless is it and rigid and without noise,
Confused germs in immense shadows swarm.
And suddenly, without aim, in God's light gaze,
The light shuddered back with twilight,
And the atoms are destined to love,
In the first coitus the molecule was born
And copulating the spirit power was as if stunned,
In the abyss now a swarm in spite of strong current dusts,
Trusting life in the abyss of the new universe,
Beholding the tiny embryo of the new universe.
How agonisingly slowly it caresses itself full of toil,
The body twisted, clinging there she hung,
Love unexpectedly possessed subtle senses,
A light rubbing was the shadow within.
All germinated, splendour, O morning red enormous,
Affinity of being, of existence and of form,
The suns flew by, and far away the comets,
The great herd of luminous planets went.
And luminous the rift turns of infinity,
The orbs horny and round, they roll long and far,
The sides burning with fertility and love,
Volcanoes spew hot the sperm of their shoots.
The elements heavily distributed by God's arm,
Clothed in plants and mountains is the land,
The warm air wraps the globe hot with kisses,
The seas sing the song with blue rivers.
Then in the midst of the world of thick coarseness war
And coarse stand proud and fat ones cry of victory.
The masterpiece of lust appeared in victory,
And God was sad and alone in his Glory!

CHAPTER III

You all alone beside me,

The eye dies on the horizon,
Of sexual life's victory,
I want to love you eternally,
The crime of the hips,
The nails in the right foot,
Then they tore open the Bible,
The nails in the left foot,
They tore at Sinai.
The woman is an eternity,
Unhappy I cried in woe,
My sexual life rises
And will love you eternally,
As a plant eats flies,
My life climbed up,
With my heart I eat flesh
And carious are my teeth
And the insult of thy mouth
Will just bite into my flesh,
My blood flows, fertile is the land,
This is how I will die.

II

The hand touched your skirt,

The white lilies are faded,
But I remember well
Of summer-hot skin of yore,
A fire burns in my marrow and blood.

A rift soughs beneath thy womb,

O honey and the eyelet red,
Red as the fire of Greece,
Where birds fly in the air.

Career of red embers of fire,

Of water near in the city,
Of the city that is unfed,
Where modesty sinks,
The gust of wind from afar blows.

It rustles delightfully in August,

The fever is still fresh in the mind,
The ice still burns in quiet glow,
The thirst of lost lips is hot,
The body hot and hot the blood!

Here is the bay of legs bare

Before the lost island, where
Perhaps a little snow to see,
Waiting patiently for the head
That slurs something without thinking.

III

The dark night speaks to me,

She gives me no dreams
Of beautiful women's transparency,
But it gives me your light image,
Suffocates your absence,
That I cannot understand thee.

She looked like a scandal!

Thy body is not in my arm
And quietly lays beside me
Only the spectre of naked skin.

She told me, I love you

With that strength with which you love.
I am no longer sleepless now
With your night presence
And your true warm blood.

IV

O progress in the flood of hair

Of the great starry body, naked,
As naked as a crystal lake
And as cleft as a tree.

And flashes in the cold milk,

They gleam like frozen gold,
Where a serpent drinks the potion,
The red, the captive.

And look the pair of thighs

In the dark grass of midnight
And the brilliance of cold steel,
Bound on the flower's chalice.

O fragrant walk,
O clear knight's armour,
It stops the wild hurricane
Of the legs hall with the gate.
What a rose is this,
That has two roots so strong
And has so few leaves only?
O rose of radiant brilliance!

And when the night ends,

Then the colour of the leaf is red,
The flawless reflection.
O my body's loneliness!
O wild fucking in the night!
A hot kissing without a mouth,
A wide bed where you dream.
V

I now shut my mouth again

After the erotic poem,
So let it come and let it happen,
The time when all this happened,
As if thou hadst not existed.

I have seen thee yet,

Seen in the hand of night,
Disgusted that thou should'st seem so far away
A jet of milk, an arrow of fire,
A star-woman's arrow of fire.

O Lady, you are a woman

With dressing and undressing of thy skin,
So fresh and full of hot blood
And full of hot marrow and leg,
Love unspeakably great,
That I have for all the flock.

O leaves, leaves, leaves,

O the beautiful love and the word!
And do you part from my song?
O art, O mud, O diamond!
Thou blowest my hot lightning!

VI

On the forsaken silent path

The girlfriend's house opens
And a shining white hand
Full of grace and mercy comes from the moon.

Begin with the anointing oil

And full of hot ardour of longing
In pursuit of that path
In the midst of her legs naked.

The dead woman I discovered

After many a walk, many a walk,
And proud chairs fell down
And cats were vulgar.

With a soft chime

Gagged the blood,
The fresh blood, with bright sound,
Celebrated in the glow of fever.

And risen again, yes,

Ignited under your hand,
We dressed our lips in red,
Soft on the lips lay the knee.

And just to look at the Lune

We looked through the windowpane
And saw the soft night of our limbs
And saw our lust prevented.

But then the gate was pushed open,

The back of the house was there,
And gently you bring your love's boat
Humbly into the harbour's port,
And coldly the long lightning entered.

VII

My mouth cannot open,

To speak your name,
To kiss thy rose-mouth
I am always concerned for you.

You are the last of my words!

The hollow space is filled with the glow of love.

Here you are inside me,

You are my saliva and my mouth,
My tense silence you.

Eyes closed, I lie in the dust.

The night is like the dawn

And then the great day of the flesh,
Then I want to give myself away completely,
There are great suns on the run.

VIII

I slept, O beautiful love of mine,

My dream on thy rose-mouth,
A diversion in the twilight,
We entered into the departure.

And softly the spring bubbled

And eerily shuddered the foliage
And balanced was the sea,
O reckless wedding night!

This is the time, I weep much,

And I get dizzy on the tower
And bells of joy ring loud
And suns sing jubilant songs.

Perfect flame blazing steeply

On the secret island realm
And sweetness pervades
The shadow of thy face.

The day stands at the zenith above

In its arch's centre,
O hands of openness,
O track and sign and alarm!

The bowl of thy body beautiful,

The gate of heaven art thou to me,
I glow hot in thy embers,
O beautiful agony!

IX

For goatskin hoses this,

O puffed-up drunkard's maw,
The god of vines speaks through me,
I wind on the waves,
Extend the power of the sun.

Not oak adorns and myrtle adorns,

The green wormwood earths not,
Love fills me furious
And Pluton's fire burns within me.

In naked forlornness
Her light brow greens me,
Bacchante she is wild and naked
And her flanks are intact
And full of great tendrils brown.

The elegant room's floor

Touched the anointed gently,
Alone and still she caressed him,
His great hand casually.

The globe hot, the lamp dull,

In the darkness glows dim light,
And her temples, her brow
The pure light softly illuminates.

And her long hair flood,

Where water shines like a crystal,
It rolls on her pale neck,
Lost in the dark night.

And around her shoulders gleams bare

The black velvet of the brassiere,
The moon emerges from the sea of clouds
And heavy and stormy is the night.

Before he crosses the ice

With calm pleasure's bliss,
Her white arm clasps the gold,
The brassiere she lays aside.

Just nice he was, just nice,

His eye gleams from the portrait,
And cruelly firm is his manner,
Mysterious and full of peace.

The mirror resembles a picture,

The master paints the lover,
The victim of humanity's future,
All clear on a dark background.

The beauty is beautifully reflected

And appeasement, pride,
And splendid toilet pomp
Folded demurely as in sleep.

And this form of science,

It seems to suck
For a peace liveliness,
The thing that will last forever.

And while this creature

Struggles with her fate,
Deifies the nature of woman,
Her flesh with all its beautiful adornment.

The mirror shows him in shadow,

And the lover slowly came,
The dark edge of the open door
Familiar shows her his face.

She turned cheerfully round,

In her folds grapes slanting,
That heavy to lift behind her,
And her heels relaxed.

Arrow without pity or wrath,

The clearness of her eyes weary,
The voice equally clear,
Says, No, I love thee not.

XI

Profane desires vanity,

Preserve us love, death.
The flowers of thy bosom wither,
The soul's blossoms and perfume.

The chains of your arms are made of clay,

Around thy neck cast ornaments,
Your circle was broken before,
Which was not unlocked at all.

Melancholy, O night, O hair,

What good is thy intoxication to me,
When comes in the shadow of death
A dear nothing forever?

The dove's nostrils quiver,

Pride is scorned very fair,
For the last time smell of the grave,
You have already knocked at the gate.

The lips' life-roses, blood,

Fill thee with my kiss,
Night fires burn like crystal,
You dry the short blossom.

In vain try this,

Two mouths in union,
Endless is the weariness,
Fragile is the beloved's breast.

XII

Debauchery is ruin now,

Past. It was your head
An army of destructive angels,
But I love you for that too.

You're not coming. Please don't kiss me,

You who were once my bride.
Kiss my beginning, kiss my goal,
You my life's sweetness.

Souls are ruined now,

Debauchery we once wanted.
Mystery is our destiny,
And I, I love you for that.
XIII

O my wife with hair of fire,

Thoughts weather-bright,
The size of a sundial,
My wife is as the adder's size.
And between tiger's teeth is
A mouth, a rosy bouquet,
Of stars a final flock,
Like a white mouse on a white ground
Of white teeth impression,
The tongue amber or glass,
The French tongue it stabbed,
The tongue of a doll that
Opens or closes her eyes,
Incredibly she speaks like a rock.
The eyelashes like a child's writing,
The eyebrows a swallow's nest,
My wife is beautiful at the temple
And on the hothouse the roof.
And around the windows fog rolls.
My wife's shoulders are champagne
And the dolphin's fountain head.
The cuff suits the woman well,
She's fingered the lucky lottery ticket,
The queen of hearts she has played,
The fingers have mown hay.
My wife with marten armpits sharp,
O night, John of the Cross!
The arms foam and the curls
Of wheat and of mill,
Rockets from New Year's Eve
The legs of my wife.
The clockwork, the agony of despair.
The breast the udder of a cow,
The feet like a beginning,
Champagne drinks the keyhole.
Like barley my wife's neck,
The throat like a valley of gold,
She reveals the tower's bed,
Breasts like mother night,
Like molehills her breasts,
Like crucibles of ruby her breasts,
The breasts' spectrum shines in the dew.
The belly unfolds in the day,
The sharp giant claw's belly.
The back, a bird's flight,
Mercury shines in the back.
In the neck the rolled stone
And drops in the drinker's glass.
Erotic belly dance dances my wife,
A slender arrow, the gleam of her hips,
And white peacock's feather's stalk.
My wife's buttocks are asbestos,
My wife has a swan's ass,
The ass is good for spring
And gladioli sexual.
Her sex, the platypus place,
Her sex, of pink icing,
Her sex is like a mirror image.
The eyes are full of tear-dew,
Like umbrellas violet
And like the needle of the magnet,
Savannah eyes my wife has,
Like drops of water in the dungeon,
Like trees under the axe's stroke,
The level is her water level,
Eyes of fire, earth and air.

XIV

It was your heart closed, ah,

Do good to thy heart, do good to thy heart,
Cover thy heart with a silent glow,
Slip away thy light heart,
You count the sand in my sleep,
Enchant my weariness,
Thy hair a lattice between
Beloved eye and the wine,
Thy hair, the Ardeche gleams,
Your eye in the shade stands still
And cold pillars on the sea,
Thy eye dips in Vaucluses,
Sequins rob thy fountain,
Your eye is rain on the flight,
And thy arms outstretched.
The gesture for the linen line,
The harvest canvas before thy breast,
The dwelling of memory
Held in the whirlwind.
Much jam thy arm bears.
The breasts dunes in the night,
The breast, the hand of labour rough,
The wheels dig in,
You lovingly give me a gift,
When in the evening we go to rest,
You stick your nose in the grass,
The sailor sings his song of mist,
The breasts unbound free!
Sleeplessness, the hand full of poppies,
The hand bound to the hand,
A signet ring full of promise,
The hands pass the bread to me,
The hands stir thy bounty,
The hips swaying like a ship,
Amphora engaged with the wine,
The fingertips up and down,
The blue apron before my belly,
Of luxurious silk the midnight,
The belly full of joy at the sea,
The thighs of Holland the same.
Your keel is happy and your hull
And everything smells of peppermint.
Cowherdess, hind in April,
Healthy skin that slaloms
On slopes in summertime,
Your dress a colourful bouquet,
On a school notebook lies a pencil,
Your dress is a Sunday frock,
In your bed your morning is,
A plain swim in the bay.
And here you are planted ready
To your lust, your madness,
I want your figgy juice!
Neuschwanstein thy voice's sound,
Like sacred legends written,
And your lips say yes,
I like to drink your saliva,
That found your childhood smile.

XV

Lady fever on the water's leaf

Opens and closes and blossoms
Like a flower of Japan beautiful.

Trellis stimulates the play

Around the skin that shines bright,
And your skin's accomplices
Are leaves, leaves rose-red,
That sigh full of woe in autumn.

A petal, a newspaper leaf,

In the midst of two bays of sleep,
Embraces the golden pair of wings,
Not touching the fine dust
Of thy bounty and grace's foliage,
We cease, we cease.

XVI
Figure defies the weather storm,
Mad hair's long rope,
The walls gape before the wind,
The waves carry arms gently,
The foot scattered, the hand scattered,
Taking up the bruised breast,
Hair curled and exposed,
A seizure, elm-fire hot
Of love I laughed dead,
The short life's firebrand,
Where you laid me in the dust.

XVII

I would like to dedicate these verses

To the women of all we love,
For the moment - mystery,
For those I hardly know
A different destiny led them,
For those we never found

And one shows herself at the window

And another by the balcony,
Quick as a weasel she vanishes.
But what woman's figure is slender,
Oh, full of grace, oh, so slender!
This remains bloom fine.

And the companion of travels,

The eyes like beautiful scenery,
She made my paths short.
Only you understand me, you alone,
And may yet climb the mountain
And hold my hand, comrade.

And then the slender dancer,

Agile, graceful of body,
But she seems sad and nervous
In the wild night of the carnival.
She wished to remain unknown
And never returned to me,
She dances at another ball.

For she who has already been taken,

She now lives long grey hours,
She joined another,
All useless is her folly to me.
But let me see thee, mistress of gloom,
With a hopeless future!

I have seen dear images,

The disappointed hopes of days gone by,
I have forgotten them tomorrow,
While still Fortune appears,
Hardly these memories remain,
How we followed love's act.

However, if you miss their lives,

You think of them with some envy,
All those strangers you saw,
The kisses they dared not,
The hearts that kept you waiting,
The eyes that did not see you.

So in the night of weariness,

In abysmal loneliness,
O ghosts of memory,
I weep, for I miss her mouth!
All those beautiful broad breasts,
Which I knew not how to hold!

XVIII

O dark poet, a virgin

In thy castle of the soul haunts,
Thou poet full of bitterness,
That is a life after life,
It burns the city from the comet,
It soaks up the heavenly rain,
Thy pen scratches at the heart of life.

O forest! Blue eyes are swarming,

Eyes swarm on the wheels,
The long hair in the storm, O poet,
Lay the saddle on the mare
And let the young dogs bark.

O blue eyes, gentle tongues!

The sky blows in the nose,
The red mother's milk feeds me,
I cling to your red lips.
But women have hard hearts
And give vinegar to my thirst.

XIX

Poets raise their hands,

Where trembling lives the elixir,
At heaven's table the idol,
And firmly grounded is the sex.
Lantern light, the tongue ice,
In every hole in every place
The kingdom of heaven lets you forward.

The reason, the pacifist's soul,

The feminine pretty and sexy,
And little children whose bodies
Replace the ancestral mummies.

PART XV

HYMN TO MY BELOVED VENUS

I am the lion in VENUS

I wish you would love me

Your attention I wish
That I am the person you admire
I want to lose myself
In you

You are my work of art

I die inside of you
With my joyful feeling
Of your perfection
You ask me
Why do you look at me like that?

Death speaks to VENUS

I will strike VENUS with a flicker of remorse

So hidden in exile I remain

The net caught trembling prey

Blistering sadness shallow grave
Repellent foul stench
Sealed boxes of foul sorrow
Blood clots hid trench
Common secretions
Girl dressed in wolf skin
Murmuring incantations
On a broken fence
Some anger
Greedy cruel
Clever patient female
Two-faced succubus
Craftsman with forked tongue
Slumbering witch
Lazy gargoyle
Retribution bells
Breath fire
Drained spine
Incubus angel foetus
Demon devil false prophet
Eerie toil
Bones cover the ground
Death speaks to the succubus
Death speaks to VENUS

It was an autumn day a fresh aroma in the air

Breathing deeply I was caught in a snare
How had I fallen into this dangerous trap?
I just wasn't looking or aware
It was a sweet sticky dew that tasted like manna
This honey nectar turned my head to greed
I lost control I went out of my mind
In a strange flower bed I left my world
Now ask me in a deep psychedelic dream
I hover eagerly above a rainbow stream
Tender fresh flesh that is bold and proud
Attracting the prey with its bright shroud
Released to be devoured
My censor told me I would be deflowered
There were silky soft hairs all over the skin
Is there a shocking end coming?
If no one had noticed that I was entangled in this place
It could all end in humiliation and shame
Now in the depths I lost all self-control
It was as if a demon had stolen my soul
Just then a vigilant snake raised its head
It looked at me and hissed and said
I can see you've had your fun
Now it's time to pay or flee and run away
Shocked by the dream I saw my need
What he said was true I made my escape
Happily escaped my advice is good
If you want to escape the VENUS trap
Stay chaste

The VENUS child

He scares me
And at the same time I am protected

He makes me feel small

And challenges my intellectual mind

He is my old flame
But I want him to be my new sweetheart
Waiting for what?

I'm in love with love

And don't know what I'm saying

VENUS in Taurus

Good morning
The weeds convinced me
Not to move the black crossbow
Killer whales wanted to dance
But I stuffed them with threads
Knots of ebony and fishnets
So they hung over my body
In the night during my journey
Are they looking for me or
Are they looking for the red bead
At my centre

Burning wood mother now Patchuli

Melting creamy as VENUS swings
Her hips at the fires of Aries
She ends on the other side
The dirt-finger grove of the ever-ready
The bull chants hold on and touch and stay true

Good morning
When did it the sun go his way
Like around the hips of a sea nymph
Over miles and through all corners
Was that a dark night

Keep thy waters I am woven in

I breathe every taste of you
I touch endlessly the centre
As sought after as the walls of palaces
When the tongue touches the lips
I rub every colour
I watch your scent gently
All about my skin care

Tilt me like the earth good morning

Care for me like the grapes of the vine

O VENUS

My daughter will not crawl from the cot

To the solarium

She will learn

The concept of unnatural beauty standards
Before she learns the alphabet

She will never compare herself

With anyone

She will never compare herself

With burlesque dancers

She'll never compare with Cinderella

Ariella Bella

She will never aspire

To be the sultry sex kitten
Who showers seductively
In shampoo commercials

My daughter is called VENUS

Goddess of love beauty and fertility

The most beautiful woman I have ever seen

She is plump full-bodied naked broad-chested
Veiled with curly hair
With the mons veneris

Goddess

My daughter is growing up
To be sexually active and deadly beautiful

With long locks of flowing hair

Like her mother
Blue eyes
And freckles

And if I never get pregnant

My sisters' daughters
Will be my daughters
The skin colour of cinnamon or chocolate
And just as sweet

Men women boys girls

Will marvel at her
Fall in love with her radiant skin
It's never photographed but it's always real

As if the sun came down from the sky

To give her the light of the whole universe

She will love her body as much

Like my mother taught me
To love my body
I'll show her pictures of Marilyn Monroe
And she will know this beauty
She is not a synonym
For thinness

Beauty
Is not a synonym for
Sexy

Beauty is not defined by size

Or colour
Or clothes

She is defined by how she gives out

Her love
And light
To everyone she meets
Without exception

And she will never doubt that she is much loved

A morning with the Goddess of Love

VENUS is back
In the southern sky of dawn
Winking her shimmering arrows where
Knowing I was her pledge
Witness that this fawn trembled

And my little stag soon slipped

Then to leap away
Chased by waning stars and moons
O so soon came this break of day
VENUS went knowing her love led astray

VENUS in the sky

The sky cried

The sky wept
Heaven wept
The sky cried
While I was jumping
While I was jumping
Now I jumped through the fire

Sigh sweat
Give me your tired hand
Squeeze it & heavy laden
The light holds us up
In his left hand
And it will be goddamn the strange man
The harvest moon induced madness
The revolutionary with a gas mask
Determined
To manifest the liberation front
Look at the sun with me
Fifty-one I'm done
Canvas demons
Lower the lights and arise
Like who will not kiss the sky

My lady my rendezvous
Big honeymoon
Now dance and drink
Giving each other blood
Doesn't it sound fun?
Isn't it sweet?

Ask yourself once

Praise the priest
Whores mothers bastards sons
My tearless lack of passion
Outweighs the shit fantastic ton
I wish a woman would come and
Consume me a host
Of fresh-faced inspiration
And the vintage faded soul

I am Homo Sapiens
I am your friend
Just a lazy comrade
I live in the street of misfortune

And bathed in flames

Returned to the ether
From whence I came
Under the ugly sun
Feel beautiful in the slums

Undone

Prayer to VENUS

O Great Goddess
I
Your true worshipper
Crawl before your altar
To beseech Thee
Give this poor
Suffering soul
Even a moment's relief
From the humiliating weight
Of this great love
Its sweet agony
Of the paralysing despair
All merged into one great mass of feeling
O merciful Olympian
Great passionate goddess
Send help
To this lost and wandering worshipper
A glimmer of hope
To lift my soul
And keep the Furies at bay
In the same way
As you heard Pygmalion
And brought to life
His marvellous statue of Galatea
Answer my desperate plea
Goddess of beauty
I offer you my self
I will strive to restore
Your true worship
In this cursed world
That has forsaken the true gods
I will provide all you need
If only you give me your blessing
Do not disappoint the thirst of a dying man
Bring me up from Pluto's realm
And let me into the Elysian Fields
Great Goddess
Hear my plea
As successor to your descendant
Caesar
A successor in his lifetime
And a follower to this day
I always serve your good name
O Great Goddess
Hear my plea
Great and wonderful Goddess
VENUS

O Hypothetical Helen

If VENUS had your beauty

Adonis would surely be caught in the snakes
Of her black hair

Of Narcissus' treasure
For absorption in beauty
Had made him obsessed
Of her tender breasts

O VENUS Observa

The lotus calls another time

For the moment just bring your lips to me
A congress of the simplest kind
Yet infused with fever divine
This tangled frame of skin and breath
Urged on its little death
On rolling seas of hands and hips
The synthesis of fingertips
My trembling legs a testament
Well proclaimed on a Sunday

Conjunction of Jupiter & VENUS

I would not always justify the straight path

Would have to lead us with its never changing lines
And we become melancholy I would make
The reason my guide but she should sometimes sit
Patiently by my side as I pursue
The labyrinths of the pleasant wilderness
Around me she should be my counsellor
But not my tyrant for my spirit needs
Impulses from a deeper source than hers
And there are movements in the mind of man
Which she must see with awe I bow down
Reverent to her who dictates to me but no less
I cling to the beautiful illusions of the old time
Illusions that brightness over life
And glory over nature look also now
Where two bright planets meet in the twilight
In the saffron sky see the emperor star
Jupiter and she who from her radiant urn
Pours the light of love let me believe
A while that they are fulfilled for the ends of good
Amid the evening calm to bestow grace
To men and their affairs and to distribute
Kindly influences behold they brighten what we see
And pour out soft fire the great earth feels
The joy and peace of time
Gentle is the mighty river that falls
On this mighty city smoothes its front and
Glitters and burns even on the rocky base
Of the dark heights that bind her in the west
And a deep murmur from the many streets
Rises like a thanksgiving we leave therefore
Dark and sad thoughts a while it's time for them later
Then we will meet tomorrow
With melancholy looks to tell our sorrows
And make each other miserable this quiet hour
This angry blessed evening we give
To happy hopes and dreams of happy days
Born of the meeting of the glorious stars

Enough of drought has parched and frightened the year

The land with fear of famine in autumn still
Will men of unexpected fruits be glad
The dog star shall harmlessly live its genial days
Soft softly gliding into the sharp
And wholesome cold of winter who fears
The pestilence shall look on the pure rays
And breathe with confidence the calm air

Emblems of power and beauty well they can

Shine brightest on our borders and retreat
Marking the way to the great Pacific
The Empire's way so in our own land
So long the better genius of our race
Having compassed the earth and tamed its tribes
Shall he sit beneath the farthest west
On the shore of the calm ocean and look back
On empires happily made

Light the wedding torches

And say the glad solemn rite that knitted
The youth and the maiden happy days to them
That tonight was a long life of love
And blossoming sons and daughters happy them
Born at this hour for they will see an age
Whiter and holier than the past and go
Late to their graves men shall have softer hearts
And shudder at the butcheries of war
As now with other murders

Unhappy Greece
Enough of blood hath wetted thy rocks and dyed
Thy rivers deep enough thy chains to have borne
Shackle to thy flesh the sacrifice
Of thy pure virgins and thy innocent babes
And venerable priests have forsaken us all
Thy crimes of old in mingling lights
There is an omen of good days for thee
Thou shalt rise from the dust and sit
Among the nations again thy own arm
Shall not redeem thee in wars like thine
The world takes part be it a quarrel of kings
Despot with despot fighting for a throne
And Europe shall be stirred in their realms
The nations shall put on the girdle and fall
On each other and in all their borders
The lamentation of the childless shall not cease
Thine is a war for freedom and thou
Must do it on your own the old world
Looks coldly on the murderers of thy race
And leaves you to the fight and the new time
I fear you might tell a shameful tale
Of fraud and lust for gain your treasury
And Missolonghi has fallen but that is your wrong
Put new strength in your heart and hand
And God and thy good sword shall yet work
For thee a terrible deliverance

The Barbie Doll & VENUS

I do not remember
The first time I saw her
But her image has never left me
She is perfection itself
Botticelli's VENUS
Floats on the sea
Her hair flows around her
And her curves call to the beholder
Love me
Barbie and I respond
We do
We see you
And we want to be you
I look at Barbie
And I promise her
This one day
I will do you both justice
I will be Barbie
I will be VENUS

O VENUS in bloom

Frozen moments
Embrace
Visions of
Luminous clouds
Unpretentious
Pearls dancing
Lingering the embers of memory
Elegy of tears
This horizon itself
Lies deep in saturnine
Tranquillity
And peace
The fatherhood lost

The cross of languor

Education
Scars of loss
Alienation
Preface written
Inescapable autonomy
Earthly treasure immortality
Footprints migration
From beautiful girls about my
Exuberant heart

VENUS Trio in full bloom

Aesthetic allusion
Short-lived incarnations
Beauty's pernicious fruits
Transcending the plebeian
Ether
The hermeneutic
Betrayed desires
Ambrosial tyranny
The permuted passage
Enjoy the sojourn
The skilful pilgrimage

Purple orchids bloom

Immortal creatures
Peaks
In perfection
Of the sheath
Relating
Every source
Singularity
The continuum
Mediating the splendour
The inviolable
Establishing eternity
Merging time and essence
The already and not yet
In one
Encircling mosaic

The suspicious adorations

Of a satellite father
Summon the woman
Absence and proximity
Guided tours in
Distress and peace
Ironic
Comfort and
Terror
Traversing
The same path
Falling but
Deep the depth of pain
Deeper sweeter
The taste of pleasure

Conception
Window in
Precedence
Surface azure
The holy
Inimitable gravity
The greatness
Mother dainty
You are
Living poetry
Seen and heard
Cosmic order
A mediating heuristic
To love is to look
In the sombre
Gift of distance
Child of delight
At least I do not hold you

Beauty and strangeness

Music found
In linear beauty
Secret Places
Beyond the tangent
Confinement
Awakening imagination
Infinity as near
As it is far

Deep loneliness
Dissonances that
Dissolve
Perception
The tertiary refrain
Exquisite verses
And incomparable liquor
Sublime tips
Doors of surrender
Daughter
In adoration and wonder
I hold you tight

The head
Tilted sideways
She blushes
She is clay to the touch
Flesh in the mind

My fingers
Like passengers aboard the Santa Maria
Exploring a new world
Every inch
Every crevice
Every curve

She is the VENUS of Milo

Timeless
Classic

Sensitive
Like a ribbon
Fluttering down
Pulled from her hair
The passion of the beloved

Her breasts are well formed

By the islands of the sea I swim
An art form is born
The simple movements
Above
Down
To and fro
Well thought out
But not choreographed

Colour her
Like the roses on my tongue
Tangled
They speak of youth
Naivety
Nervousness

Stepping back
And she blossoms to life
A monument lies before me
The mortal will
Reach immortality

Perfect
Is she
From the head
To the toes

O VENUS

You read your horoscope like a Bible scripture

Quoting Scorpio like Psalms and Pericopes
Think your heart cannot be trusted
As if the stars ask you not to live in your ventricle
And to pump pure energy through your veins
Patterns in the stars and patterns in your bones don't mean Much if you spend every night alone
But I am a Libra and you my beautiful VENUS seduce me
With every word that flows from your lips
I am alone tonight as I wonder
If we would ever really find what was sought

The VENUS runaway

Beauties have you seen this toy
Called Cupid a little boy
Almost naked wantonly blind
Cruel now and then so kind?
When he's among you so what does he say?
He who is VENUS‘ runaway

But she will discover it now

Where the winged rogue hovers
Shall get a kiss tonight
As one would wish
But who'll take him to his mother
Shall have this kiss and another

He has many
Shall know him under twenty
His whole body is a fire
And his breath a flame
He's shot like lightning
Wounding the heart but not the skin

At his sight the sun turned around

Neptune in the waters is scorched
Hell felt a greater heat
Jupiter himself left his place
From the centre to the sky
Are his trophies set high

Wings he has
He will leap from lip to lip
Over liver kidneys and heart
But don't stay in any part
But if luck misses his arrow
He'll shoot with kisses

He carries a golden bow

And a quiver hanging
Full of arrows that spread
Diana's arrows he has
A head sharper than others
With this he strikes his mother

Still the most beautiful is his drive

When his days shall be cruel
Lover's hearts are his food
And his baths are their warmest blood
But not his hands hurt the hearts
And he hates nothing so much as reason

Trust him not his words though sweet

But seldom with his heart do they meet
His practice is deceit
Every gift is bait
Not a kiss but poisoned
And the greatest betrayal is in his tears

Empty minutes are his reign

Then the striker makes his profit
By presenting girls with toys
And had you loved her
That is the elf's ambition
All childish like himself he wants to have

If you wish this

Beauties be not only beautiful but show it to him
Though you have a will to hide it
Well we hope you won't bear him
There you hear his foul play
And this is VENUS‘ runaway

O VENUS

Dark skies whispering starlight

Dragging arrows sparkling glittering flies
Hands illuminated fingers of the moon folded
Kiss of love
VENUS will go
Her way

O VENUS

Here I am
At the San Antonio Museum of Art
And there she stands
VENUS
A Latin American artist
Has carved her in bronze
Five feet high
Without her head
And if she were made of flesh and bone
She would weigh at least 350 kilograms
I am captivated by the sight of her
My family calls for them to go away
That they are done with art now
I stay on the floor
Gasping for air
She looks like someone I know

My VENUS

The calm rolled over our bodies

A sea without waves
The birds sang their song
It was in that crystal moment
That I realised this would not pass

The feeling grows the song is a choir

The evening sky a Matisse
Alive and dynamic.
The clouds dance

Your hair and skin and smile

You are VENUS and I am your moon

VENUS I love you

The birth of VENUS

You were in Bottocelli's dream

That you came from the sea
Surfing a conch shell to shore

If there's one kind of thing

That makes your heart sing
It's her beauty
You just can't ignore it

You are a daughter of Mother Nature

Your father is from heaven
Homer told your story but you
Are the love of my life

O VENUS

Woman in violets
Let us consecrate to VENUS the planet of love
Plant a vineyard
Open a wine cask
Watch the axis of the universe
Under a purple sky in a bed
Drunk on purple violets drunk on purple wine

O VENUS

Stargazing in the early winter eve

Someone sends me a message
Is that VENUS I can see?
Yes I reply I don't realise what had happened
Miles split a second in time
Both look at the crescent moon
And the light in the sky

O VENUS

You suffocate me every time we touch

A cloud of smoke that leaves me without breath
I want nothing more than to stay with you
But your presence kills me

I can't live much longer around you

I've tried everything I can think of
But our time together comes and goes
And it ends it will burn all bridges

I have learned very little from you

But what I know I can use in the future
That's kind of how it was, wasn't it?
In the end it was knowledge that we found afterwards

There is nothing that cannot be learned

Through time and perseverance
But everything can be forgotten
Through time and perseverance

VENUS in the snow

Still-birthfeelings that lie on the snow

If I let you smile sticky lips will let go
Afterbirth sensations under hail
I want to suck the blood from your gums
I want to touch you until your body is obsolete

VENUS in the snow the more I taste you

The more the echoes in our mouths slowly sound
Baby fuck me like I'm just waking up from a coma
Nothing more I want than to be your trauma

I just need to bury myself in your feelings

And drown in the swell of the parted oceans

Hymn to VENUS

O VENUS beauty of the sky

Of a thousand temples rise
Good and false with gentle smile
Full of love-tangled threads
O Goddess from my heart remove
Wasting sorrow
And pains of love

If ever thou hast heard

A song in gentle distress
To my melodious vow
Gentle goddess hear me now
Descend thou bright immortal guest
In all thy radiant charms

Thou hast once left almighty Jupiter

And all golden roofs above
The chariot thy lusty sparrows drew
Hovering in the air they flew lightly
As for my arbour they were mistaken
I saw their quivering pinions play

Dismissing the birds while you stay

Bring back your empty chariot
Then you are with me divinely mild
Smiling in every heavenly feature
And ask what new ailment I have
And why have I called thee to my aid

What frenzy rages in my bosom

And by what cure is it assuaged
What gentle youth I wish to seduce
Who in my artful heart is?
Who makes your tender heart mad
Tell me my poet tell me who

Though now she shuns your longing arms

She will soon be ruled by your terrible charms
Though now your sacrifices she despises
She will soon sacrifice to you
Though now she freezes she will soon burn
And will follow your sacrifice

Heaven visit once more

Thy needy presence I implore
In compassion come and ease my grief
Bring salvation to my uncouth soul
Give your hidden fires
And give me what my whole heart desires

PART XVI

LETTERS

Venus is the apple. In paradise, Eve probably didn't pick an apple from the tree of knowledge.
Perhaps it was a quince. Apples did not grow in the Middle East at that time. But in Latin, apple is
called malum and evil is also called malum. Hence the talk of the apple. Adam got a piece of the
apple stuck in his throat, so because of original sin men have Adam's apple in their throats. But my
sex idol Eve lived half-naked in her apple orchard. At that time I saw her naked breasts through her
gown of breath. Then I read a verse by Sir Philip Sidney: The apples fall from the tree in homage to
your apple breasts! There is also a statue of the Madonna handing the apple of paradise to her sweet
boy. And with that, all guilt is made good. The Celts said the dead lived on in the apple orchard of
Avalon. The Teutons said Iduna, the goddess of eternal youth, had the apples of eternal youth. I
know Iduna from the ode by Klopstock: Iduna Henssler... That was a young girl who charmed the
old prophet. As a child, when I read books, I always ate the big sour apples from our garden with
them. When I was with the Catholic scouts or at school, I especially loved the Golden Delicious.
Scientists irradiated apple trees with radioactive rays, a gene mutation took place, and that's how the
Golden Delicous were born: perfectly round, uniformly shiny-green skin without spots, a juicy
white flesh, very fresh and pleasantly sweet. This is the modern Venus. Because Venus is still alive
today.

II

Venus is the shell. I think I read that the Greek word for shell and for vulva is the same. The shell is
a symbol for the vulva. In German we also say Muschi for the lap. Venus emerged from the foam
and sailed to Cyprus on a shell. Botticelli wrote the sacred icon of Venus on the shell. Whoever
places this icon in his home, Venus is present in his home. When I lived with Anna, I had a small
room adjoined by a small chamber into which a bed just fitted. That was Anna's room. On the door
hung the icon of Venus on the shell, and behind the door lay my soft, warm wife, always willing to
lust! When Eve was my idol, my sexy witch, I brought her a shell necklace from Sankt Pauli at
Hamburg harbour. Once I bought her a shell bracelet in an Indian shop. Venus is still alive today, so
in a music video I saw a singer in a miniskirt, with feminine curves, big breasts and long blond hair,
lolling lasciviously inside a big shell floating on a nocturnal sea, lit only by the rays of a phallic
lighthouse, and singing a love song in an erotic voice. I also once gave Botticelli's painting of Venus
on the Shell to fourteen-year-old Eschata. She had long red curls, a white face, a red-painted mouth,
she wore a miniskirt with bare legs and boots on her feet. Once I met her at the entrance to the
house at midnight in a nightgown, in a short silky négligé, and her big breasts trembled towards me.
Outside from the street, a young suitor shouted loudly: Eschata, you horny cunt! She was my Lolita.
With Anna and Eve I was on the North Sea island Baltrum. There I read from the Prophet Hosea at
the altar, the altar was made of a shell. There is also an altar of Mary, because the Immaculate, the
Coredemptrix, is enthroned on a shell.

III

Venus is the pearl. When a grain of sand enters the oyster shell and injures the inside of the shell,
the shell secretes a mucus which coats the pointed sharp grain of sand and thus reduces the pain,
and thus the pearl is formed. And so the saints and also the therapists say that our soul‘s wounds can
become mystical pearls. Jesus the philosopher told: A merchant was trading with pearls, once he
found a very special pearl, which was especially big, beautiful and precious, and he sold all his
possessions to buy this pearl. And that pearl is the kingdom of God. The Virgin Mary appears with a
string of pearls in her hands. This string of pearls symbolises the Gospel. The Muslims pray the
ninety-nine names of Allah on their string of pearls. The Buddhists meditate on the string of beads
their mantra: Om mani padme hum, the jewel is in the lotus flower, that is, God is in the soul like
the phallus in the vulva! Others meditate on the goddess Tara: Ave Tara, Amen. Or the short version
of the Hail Mary: Hail Mary Amen! Jakob Böhme heard the divine Virgin Sophia say to him, On
earth you are my fiancé, but in the rose garden of paradise in heaven I give you my pearl
completely. This pearl is the pearl of mystical union.

PART XVII
ODES TO VENUS

NIGHTLY VISION OF THE SEER

One night I awoke from the dream,

In the dream Venus appeared to me, a goddess,
One Goddess, three persons of fair nymphs,
Three times loving me.

There I was riding on a mare,

Overcoming my great sadness,
Fighting with bears and fierce lions,
Victorious hero.

Then at a supper I sat feasting,

Tasting the food of all the nations,
Food from the East, food from the West,
I resembled Lucullus.

Then I saw three priestesses of Venus,

One was called Girl, the second Lotus
And the third Grace. All three,
All three loved me with love.

As the priestesses recognised my soul,

My soul in the night dream full of hot love,
I joined Venus mystically,
Venus of Cyprus.

And I saw the Cypriot goddess Venus

Lying naked before me and I saw the pubic hair,
Mound of Venus, clitoris,
Purple labia open.

I poured me hotly into the womb of Venus,

Streams of nectar flowed like sweet juices,
And Venus' cervix took me in
And we merged.

Then I awoke from the sweet night dream,

Read in the prophet's oracle verses:
In the deep midnight I rise,
To praise Venus!

VENUS ANADYOMENE

The goddess of beauty has emerged from the sea,

Naked from the erotic element,
Always I see her surfing, the wave wears
The crown of the spray,

Beautiful the naked goddess, the foam-born,

The beauty of her youthful body,
Shining her loins and thighs,
Delta of Venus,

Beautiful her breasts, large and natural, round

Pomegranates with the sultana tips,
Slender the waist, mighty the pelvis of the womb,
Plump is the bottom,

Out of her eyes twinkling stars look,

Kissy are her swelling red lips,
Long the hair that cascades down,
Down to her hips.

Yet in all her nakedness she is not shameless,

No common vulgar whore,
No, clad in light, all in the glow
Of Glory divine,

Yes, in all that nakedness with chaste aura,

All urge to adore the saint,
This ideal dream woman, this
Goddess of men!

VENUS PRIMITIVA

In the ice age the primitive men honoured

Venus Primitiva, the Magna Mater.
In the rock cave in stone they carved
Their beloved.

Dark was the cave, the flames of fire

Made rocks seem strangely alive.
Deep shivers of holy reverence had
Men in their hearts.

Are they with the Mother in the rocky vault,

In the cathedral of the earth, men rest,
Men at the mighty mother's breasts
Of divine love.

Love is the primordial deity full of beauty,

Of form a superwoman, full of life.
And men, all children of the Goddess,
Loved the Mother.

First Deity, Creatrix, Great Mother,

Nature and mankind in your womb
Are united, creatures of the First Love,
Fertile Mother.

Thirstily they drank love from the breasts,

Mother's milk to satisfy the hunger of love,
Beautiful love flowed from great breasts
Of her beloved.

Sweet service of the goddess of beautiful love

Cultic was union with the vulva
Of the beloved, on the altar of the bed,
Mystically ecstatic.

VENUS PANDEMOS

Beautiful people of Greece, democrats

Celebrate free love from free men,
Love be the soul of the people, the spirit of
The Goddess Pandemos!

Free men elect the people's representatives,

Women's communism reigns in the polis,
Poets love hetaeras in
The cult of Pandemos.

Philosophers do not love wives,

Philosophers love hetaeras, spiritual
And charming and lovely are the women,
Images of the goddess.

When Pandemos reigns throughout the nation,

There is no civil war among brothers,
The community, one heart and soul,
Then lives love.

Then the rich brother to the poor brother

Gives of his goods, and the husbands
No longer quarrel with wives,
Children are happy.

Then in every house an image of the goddess

Is the household altar that the women serve.
And the state's democracy pledges allegiance
To sacred love.

Then with Pandemos comes the goddess of freedom,

As the flesh is emancipated, the women
Vote and the slave women and the slaves
Become citizens.
With Pandemos then comes the goddess of peace,
When Pandemos reigns on Europe's island.
A goddess of love, a kingdom of love,
Unity in faith!

VENUS SOCIA

My girlfriend, my comrade Venus,

My faithful female comrade,
Brave ally to me in the hard
Struggle of life!

Not only in the heaven of heavens do you live,

No, on earth you hover around me, spiritual girlfriend,
You are my faithful darling and bedfellow
At night in dreams.

Goddess Venus Socia, my girlfriend,

When the friend, the brother coldly denies me,
I warm myself at the hearth of thy bosom,
Loving sister.

Other women are beautiful in spring and youth,

But thou, the heavenly beauty art thou,
Immaculate and spotless, ever blooming,
Eternal charms.

When the poet is lonely as hermits,

Do you come through locked doors, Venus,
Do not disturb my silence with woman's gossip,
Preacher's folly.

Who has a better girlfriend and sister,

Who such a girl as I, O Venus!
You by my side, I'll pass all
Earth's woes!

VENUS EXCELSIOR

Venus in the heavenly heights, bless

Thy young lovely earth daughters,
Come down from the heaven of heavens, Mother,
Goddess of heaven,

Pour out thy graces, the graces,

And free women from the demons
Of tormenting jealousy, matrimonial strife and
Shameless fornication.

Lead thy daughters through the valley of the earth,

Till they come to the heavenly haven,
Guide them with wisdom, knowledge, insight,
Goddess of wisdom,

Give them happiness of love here on earth,

Bless their holy matrimony,
Bless their desire in the bed of matrimony,
Pure desire,

Teach them to clothe themselves chastely, Virgin,

That according to the dignity of woman clothed
They receive reverence from good men,
Love, adoration.

Let women always remember, O Venus,

That not animal souls, but
Human they are spirit souls and immortal,
That on earth

Shall live holy and without blemish,

In the pious bliss of their souls,
To come at the end of life to the
Goddess in heaven,

There to behold heavenly beauty, grace,

Charm and enchantment, youth's divine charms,
To adore in love eternity
Thee, O beloved!

VENUS CREATRIX

Creatrix, O Venus Creatrix, Goddess,

Out of nothing you created this universe.
There was no heaven yet, no earth yet,
When you gave birth

A germ of matter, a primordial germ,

Like an egg of the dove of the goddess Venus,
This primordial egg you laid in chaos,
Mother of creation.

In the primordial egg lived little Eros,

Divine his intelligence commanded the
Creatures to evolve, God within,
God within the creation.

Unformed primordial matter has evolved

In the cosmos' evolutions by leaps and bounds,
Nature became the creator of itself
In the spirit of Eros.
Like an orgasm of the great Venus
Has the universe hotly unfolded, glowing,
As Eros' sperm of the cosmos
Power poured forth.

Venus, in the emanation of the spirit

Full of Eros' cosmic energy
Dense has become, material world and
Spirit-rich humanity.

Creatrix, O Goddess of the Multiverses,

Queen and guardian angel of this universe,
The central fire of the universe
Rests in thy bosom.

Thou art Alpha, Omega, Goal and Origin,

Amorisation of the born universe
Is your will. All that is born of desire,
Shall become love!

VENUS URANIA

Diotima taught the philosopher,

How to honour, Urania, your love,
How to look, Urania, your beauty,
Who is on heaven's

Stairs above, and bestows the blessing,

And the angels soar, soar down
On the ladder of heaven to the third heaven,
Sphere of Venus,

Paradise of the loving spirits of the dead,

Heavenly realm of the Mother of Beautiful Love.
Look, I stand here at the gates of heaven,
Shake and call:

Venus, let me into the heaven of love,

Into the beautiful kingdom of joy above the stars,
Let me in Elysium your beauty see,
Your beauty in Elysium!

O how beautiful were the breasts of Phryne,

Beautiful was Alcibiades, the golden boy,
Beautiful was Diotima in wise speeches,
More beautiful is Venus!

As the wise say, the great goddess

Is the highest love, the highest beauty,
All perfect love, idea of beauty,
Absolutely glorious!
The most beautiful thing I ever saw on earth,
I saw Phryne, Lais and Thaos lovely,
I saw Alcibiades, I saw Milon,
All the beauty

I find again in the archetypes above,

In the realm of Urania, the ideas,
Where ideals float in a round dance,
In dances of the angels,

When in Lethe all the woes of love

Are forgotten, and youthfully resurrected
Are the sweet joys of young love,
Eternally lovely,

Eternally sweet and eternally caressing, blissful

Then walk the lovers by the seas
Of crystal, drunk with the mystic cup,
Bathing in honey

And in milk, with holy spirit kisses

The lovers kiss in the heavens
And merge mystically-erotically in
The bed of Venus!

VENUS RELIGIO

Thus Empedocles has poetised it for us,

That in all earthly elements
Is omnipresent the goddess Cypris,
Soul of creation.

See the sky's serene blueness or

Mother Night with starry sparkle, moonlight,
All show the divine Cypris‘ beauty,
Mistress of the ether,

Feel the air caress the cheek, Zepryr,

Or Aura kiss the young Flora,
Hear the wind, thunderstorm, Cypris speaks,
Sister of the air,

See the pure spring in the valley of the mountains,

Father streams and oceans,
Beautiful the foam-born goddess is,
Chaste in the waters,

See the mother earth, the summer garden,

Poppies and irises, roses and hyacinths,
Majestic proud mountains at
The Mother's breasts!

On the beautiful face of Mother Earth

Love's human children romp full of delight,
Man and woman in friendship and love's delight,
Wisdom of the ancients,

Look at the beautiful youth with its charm,

Slender girls, women with big breasts,
Old women, silver-haired wise ladies,
Love mankind!

Humanity wants to sacrifice to the Great Mother,

But will not slaughter the dear animals
And not murder the children of the womb,
But to the Goddess

We offer roses and the fragrance of incense,

With mankind all creation sacrifices
To our heavenly Mother, to our
Goddess of Love!

VENUS MAGDALENE

Venus Magdalene of Galilee,

Bathing in the Sea of Galilee
Your naked limbs, hetaera of God,
Foam-white goddess,

You saw Adonai on the seashore,

That beautiful youth with long locks,
And you emerged naked from the foam of the sea,
To the beloved

You stepped and prostrated yourself before him,

Kissing his feet, your long curls
Fell on Adoniai's bare feet,
Gently caressing him.

He said to the Galilean goddess:

Venus Magdalene, I will make thee,
Darling, the Gallic goddess of love,
Venus of Gaul!

But Adonai was killed by the red dragon,

Mortally wounded by the serpent, and Venus
Magdalena loving embraced
Her darling at the pole,

She clasped his legs and with her tongue

She kissed the dead, taken from the stake,
They laid the young god in the womb of
The Jewish Venus.

He rose as an anemone
In Adonis' garden, he was the gardener,
Venus Magdalene his rose garden,
The Mystic Rose.

Intoxicated by the kisses of the youth

Rode on a Mediterranean shell
Venus with the other Charites
Naked to Gaul,

There the southern French goddess of love

Emerged from the foam of the Mediterranean,
Stepped to the shore, lilies bloomed beneath
Magdalene's feet,

Then, in Provence, she climbed to the summit

Of a mountain that rose into the sky,
Smiling there she preached to the French:
Live in love,

God is Eros, live in love, love one another!

Then the beautiful goddess began to dance,
Dancing up to the sky went the Venus of France,
Came to the wedding,

Venus Magdalene in the wedding bed

Lying with Adonai in union,
Blissfully merged in divine delight
Venus and Jesus!

VENUS MADONNA

From the third heaven descended

The woman, clothed with the sun, the finest
Gossamer gown of transparent gauze around
The body of jade,

Like the white lily in the vase

Of crystal, Selene at her feet,
In her black hair a wreath of stars,
Swan, lyre, eagle,

In the hair seven Pleiades, in the wreath

Astraea, goddess of righteous times,
And Orion, suitor of Diana, and the
Fair Callisto,

Came the Queen of Heaven, the Madonna

Venus to earth on the beach of Cyprus,
Stood at Paphos-Ktima with bare feet,
Foam at her feet,

Came to beautiful Salamis, to New Phaphos,

Came to beautiful Marion, to Kiklion,
Where the men of their Madonna Venus
Built the temple,

Called her Madonna Aphroditissa,

Offered her sacrifices of bread and grape's blood,
Where the philosophers taught love,
Preached wisdom,

Namely, wise men preached God's folly,

Wiser than the wisdom of the sons of men.
In the temple I met Corinna today,
There before the pulpit

Listening I sat, praying with sorrow

To the goddess Aphroditissa, behold,
Then came to me my beloved, kissed me
Long on my mouth.

O Corinna, Aphroditissa's daughter,

Thy kisses, sweeter than wine and honey,
Has sent to comfort me the Madonna
Aphroditissa!

VENUS MAGNA MATER

Our deity and mistress is Magna Mater,

Phrygians call Cybele our mother,
And her son-lover, the youth Atthis
Was an emasculated one.

Great mother, mighty are thy breasts,

Like lofty mountains with jade peaks.
Drunk in the vineyards we sing
The Divine Mother.

Lions the triumphant chariot powerfully pull,

Lion cubs play around her chariot,
In triumph comes to us our Mother,
Victorious love!

Our Mother wears a wreath in her hair,

Her crown, that is the city of heaven,
Her crown, that is the wall and
The gate of Heaven!
Come, O Mother, kind, mild, sweet,
Let us drink comforting milk at your breasts,
Into the paradisiacal vineyard lead
Thy beloved!

VENUS MAMMA MIA

When children without pity from

Their cold-hearted mothers grow up,
Come, all-merciful Mother Goddess,
Take the children,

You nestle them under your protective mantle at your breasts

And lovingly nourish them with milk of comfort,
O gentle mildness, O beloved of the heart,
Kind and sweet!

Children cling to your skirt in supplication,

Hear, in thy auricle children slip,
Bedding themselves in thy consecrated
Heavenly bed,

Where you sing, the lullaby's sweet muse,

To thy little darling and sweet fool,
Where you sing of heavenly paradises,
Childish gods.

Venus Mamma mia, you make the children

Your heart's smiling Amoretti,
Boys like Cupids and blond-haired
Gracious girls.

You are my mother, I cannot complain,

That I live without a loving mother,
Thou art my mother, O great Venus,
Thou lov'st me.

When the world is full of old Thracian witches,

When women become furies, you help,
Come and make my soul spring,
Lustrous youth!

My beloved, o Mamma mia,

I myself will become the goddess Venus,
I myself become the grandmother of all little ones,
Because I am like you,

Because, O woman, your mother's heart in my bosom

Throbs and says with every beat of the pulse:
Sweet boy, how I love thee with all my heart,
Son of my soul!
VENUS NATURA

Venus, great deity Nature, O Mother,

Thou nature and being of a thousand beings,
Mother of ten thousand things, mistress,
Supreme of beings,

Venus, what is your nature but love?

Love is the essence of beings, love
Is the origin of all creatures and
The goal of creatures.

Because the beings, plants and animals,

Human beings, all born of love, live
All live in love and strive eternally
Towards union.

As in the bed the strawberry bush full of love

Smells sweetly to the thyme!
As in the spring the butterfly kisses the rose‘s
Womb with its feeler!

How the young man adores the adored one,

How man and woman unite in marriage,
How the old man dreams of the young girl,
The inner Psyché!

How the animals love - they must love,

They obey Venus in their drives!
Love leads human free will
All the way to heaven!

Venus is love, man is love,

Nature is love, the spirit is love,
So man loves strumpets and wives,
Goddesses, virgins!

Above in the hierarchical universe

Stands the goddess of eternal love, loving
From her comes the world soul full of longing,
Longing for unity.

Far away come human souls, striving

Desirous of union in marriage,
Then all earthly creation longs
For perfection!

Even the worm feels twitching lust delightfully,

Most sublimely seraphic spirits glow
For the supreme deity of love or
Venus Natura!

VENUS ANIMALIS

As in the oak-top the turtledoves

Playing their noble love games,
When in love the dove pecks
The dove's bosom,

When the dove spreads her white wings

And there's a crackle in the top of the oak, love
So the doves make, their cooing rolls
Brooding words,

Then the dove flies from the top of the oak tree
Into the crown of the beautiful chestnut tree,
Calls again to her husband's beckoning hirrings
To the mating,

At the call of the wife, the husband hurriedly

From the oak floats to the chestnut tree,
Again they make love in heat, do
The works of Venus!

When the white swan by the swan pond

Was slain by wicked knaves, weeping
Sits the white she-swan by the swan's pond,
Seeking only death,

Eat no more, drink no more,.

The widow wants to find her beloved again
By heaven's pools, faithfulness
Over the death still.

But then the swan does not sing swan songs,

She falls silent with pain in her soul,
Crouches in blue twilight, full of melancholy,
In melancholy mourning.

But in Elysium by the ponds

In the park of heaven her husband waits
Full of longing sighing for the beloved:
Come, O beloved!

Venus loves the sparrows too,

The winged children of the sky are happy,
Venus loves the little ones who are cheerful,
Glad to be sociable,

Seek their food by the wayside,

Nibbling their grains and playing idly,
Carefree, Mother Venus feeds them who don't
Have to work.

Cheerfully chirping the little sparrows,

Bathing their wings in pure puddles,
Laughing like angels in the light of the sun,
Happy children!

Venus loves the hoopoe too, the Hudhud,

Venus gave to Solomon the gift,
Hudhud to understand, the Zion goddess
Venus Astarte,

Hudhud became the matchmaker, the wise king.

He led the queen of Sheba, Balkis,
That was a coquetry of wisdom!
Kisses of wisdom!

When the animal goddess of love

Swam up from Tyre and Sidon northward
And came to Cyprus on the beach of Paphos,
Wise dolphins

Accompanied her with high notes

Of their truly intelligent language,
The dolphins laid themselves down
At the feet of the goddess!

VENUS ADULTERA

Venus was married to the old Vulcan,

Who was at his work all the days.
Then Venus was lonely, the beautiful lady,
Until Mars came to her,

Who courted the woman, flattered her,

Gave her gifts, seduced her, lusted for her.
She desired, behold, Venus itched
Lust in her vulva!

And she went and bathed naked in the bath,

Mars, as house friend, stood before the bathroom,
Beheld Venus naked in the streams of water,
The divine body.

So too David once on the roof terrace

Saw the beautiful neighbour bathing naked,
Divinely beautiful formed in the shower, beheld
David Bathsheba.

And she came. He attended her. The husband

Sent to the forefront of the war David:
Go to hell, Uriah, you Hittite!
Death to my rival!

Venus lay with Mars in the bed of lust

And he made love to Venus artfully
And she said, Good is thy sport of love,
Divine household friend!

This the sun-god saw in the sky

And told it to the husband, Vulcan,
Who stretched a net, a golden net
On lust's camp.

And caught lay the two sinners,

Mars and Venus lay in the golden net.
And Vulkan enticed the other gods
To the caught ones.

Phoebus said, I too will sleep with Venus!

And Mercury said, Divine is the body of Venus!
Loudly the Olympian gods laughed
At the naked.

Venus fled to Paphos, and the Charites

Gave her a bath with the best perfumes
And bathing in the bubble bath Venus became
A Virgin again.

VENUS IMMACULATA

When the old father in the kingdom of heaven

Was emasculated from the divine son, the sickle
Cut off the phallus, the testicles of God,
Which fell into the sea,

Became foam and begat Aphrodite,

This immaculate conception of Venus
We call the sinless, spotless one,
Immaculata.

All women are born in guilt,

Their very existence is sin,
And they must repent, metanoia,
Confess their sins.

Not so Venus Immaculata, purity

Is she and perfection, without sin,
Without spot, without wrinkle, ever-
Perpetual Virgin.
Prude is not Immaculata, lustful
Venus gives herself to her lovers, men
Like Adonis, Mars and Anchises and
The drunken Bacchus.

But after the love unions

The goddess Immaculata always takes a bath
On the island of Cyprus, a bath in Paphos,
Marion's grotto.

There the goddess Immaculata bathes

Naked in the sacred spring Fontana
Amorosa, so she renews her
Chastity and purity.

Therefore we call the goddess Immaculata,

We call the everlasting virgin goddess
And wise men and poets call her
Virgo intacta!

VENUS FRIGIDA

Once the Mediterranean Venus travelled

To cold Germany, to the cold Baltic Sea.
There the Germans honoured in old times
Hertha in the bath.

Now came the French goddess of love,

To bathe naked in the Baltic See,
Before the chalk cliffs of Rügen she stood
Freezing in the water.

The goose bumps on her arms were visible,

Her full rose mouth was blue with cold
And her limbs trembled, shivering.
Freezing Venus

Stepped back on the beach and took a towel,

Rubbing the freezing limbs dry,
Drying the tide of hair, the long locks,
Till she was warm.

But don't think Venus Frigida would be

Prude and frigid in the game of love!
No, only German women are frigid,
Not the French woman!

The French woman, bathing in the German Baltic Sea,

That woman is a thousand times more lovelorn
Than the German, bathing in the Mediterranean,
She remains frigid!
Venus mocks at the German women:
The frigids only play with men,
Cold of heart, outwardly beautiful dolls,
Boringly lustless!

Come, O hot Venus Frigida of France,

Your heat will melt our cold!
Germany I will consecrate to the hot heart
Of Venus Frigida!

VENUS ROSA MYSTICA

Venus has appeared before my eyes,

Naked torso with great breasts
She floated in the light-blue sky high on
A foamy white cloud.

In front of her right breast a white rose

Held the goddess, snow-white rose of purity
Symbolising the joys of the young goddess,
Mother of Cupid.

In front of the left breast a golden rose

Held the goddess, sign of heavenly beauty,
That she is queen of heaven, dominating
Thrones and powers.

Between her breasts the red rose

Held the goddess, sign of love's pain,
Sign of hot passion, of great suffering,
Bleeding heart.

And the goddess opened heaven for me

And I saw the road of light to the sun
And I saw within the heavens
The mystic rose.

That beautiful mystic rose of heaven,

Hierarchy and order of the celestial spirits,
Gave the blessed of heaven their thrones
According to their merits.

And the blessed of heaven in spirals

Circling in the mystic rose, dancing,
And in the dance like laughing angels cheerful
Lived blissfully.

This pure mystic rose of heaven

Was the paradisiacal heavenly Venus.
In the womb of the goddess the spirits lived,
Venus united.

PART XVIII

HETAERAS

My girlfriend, who has gifts to give lust,

She gives men what she so ardently desires,
After their art of love they are called hetaerae,
Like whores, they are not common pornography.
So you love the hetaera, you are her hangover? -
Yes, brother, she is wise and fair, by God the Father!

II

Take heed, my Platonic, that thou dost not

Be with boys, which is unnatural,
And thus offend the goddess, the goddess of true desire,
For that but stains the soul in the breast.
The boys are indeed beautiful, the young men in the town,
And have no beard and are as sweet as girls,
But they are no longer beautiful when they get a beard.
Glykere once revealed it to me.

III

It may be, it wonders some of my dear hearers,

With good reason it wonders some among the bewitchers,
Whether somewhere in the realm of good Attica
Is to be found a woman, if ever a suitor saw
A woman in Attica that was called Mania?
That would be a shame (by Hagia Sophia),
For this name is that of a Phrygian!
If this Athenian name came into the mind of a harlot,
It would be shameful, the work of idiots,
If the city of Athens had not forbidden it.
Athens is a city where men are tried and tested.
And the heresy of wise men is praised!

IV

Philyra fornicated in her charm of youth,

Then later she became a lady of virtue.
So did Scione, so did Hippophesis
And Theocleia too with her firm belly,
In her old age, the beautiful Theocleia became honourable,
So did Psamathe, and so did Antheia.

O my hetaera, my wife, O Nais with the lyre,

Knowest thou also the harlot, the false Anticyra,
Who bore false witness and loved to lie?
How pale were her eyes, dull and languid!
Her name was actually Oia, as reported
Aristophanes, who wrote of that woman.
But she was called Anticyra, because she liked to drink
With one who sank into delirium and lustful intoxication
And sunk in passion in a bed of pleasures,
Because Anticyra made him drunk with wine!

VI

I have in my house the mild Sophrosyne

And the righteous one too, the woman Dikaiosyne,
Arete dwells with me, the pious and virtuous,
Andreia walks with me, strong and full of strength,
Akesis well masters of the disciplines of love,
The women all serve me with their graces. -
My friend, how I am filled with the fiercest envy!
Give me one, oh a young maiden!
I would also like to court a slave,
Surely, women are but feminine slaves! -
But Apollonius answered his friend,
Who broke the rod of judgment on these women,
No, these women are not feminine slaves,
You cannot, my envious friend, court a girl,
No, respectable are the ladies! Every maiden
Is a sovereign of holy glory!

VII

If ever a good man came in distress and in sorrow,

So the hetaera in the evening and in the morning
Greeted him lovingly, made him free from grief,
His soul with gentle flattery caressed
And then kissed him. The kisses, though of no avail,
To suck out his soul like the worst enemy,
Nay, the hetaera kisses, as a dove nods.
And how she coos and how she pecks with her beak.
She sits at table with him, they dine without haste,
They chat wisely and piously, without a moment's boredom,
She takes the torment away from him, with her charming smile.
And with sweet chattering mouth she makes him happy again.

VIII

The naked whore can also be given the name

Of the wonderful Sphinx of the distant land of Thebes,
She chattereth not, nor gabbeth, nor speaketh with her mouth,
She speaks in riddles, she proclaims secret wisdom.
How sweet love is, how licking flames lick,
How gladly she comes with her friend.
When she speaks in riddles, the Sphinx says very kindly,
Four legs has the wide love-bed,
On a three-chair slurs Pythia in the little town,
Two legs long and slender, so are the young girls.

IX

I know hetaeras too, they are very conceited

Of their beauty. And the others are educated,
They are well brought up. The pedagogical
Hetaerae like to talk to wise men, logical
Sophists, also like to be with poets in order to learn.
They know the names of all the heavenly stars.

O wise Socrates, said Aspasia,

In thee there is a longing for the dear boys,
They bite at thy heart! But thou shalt take heed
And do not proudly despise my good advice.
(My body is consumed by the fire current of happiness,
But dew of tears hangs on the lashes of my eyes):
Encourage your heart and serve all the muses,
That will give you new strength. Trust in my bosom
And in my faithful heart. I will help you to see the Son,
To see the Son again on his throne of the gods.
The Muse helps alone, the Muse chosen,
Your whisper of love poured into this boy's ears,
The beginning of all pleasure, that is the muse's art,
With her help thou dost awaken his ardour,
Get his spirit, serve him with wise jests,
Pour love's word in his heart's ear.

XI

Philaenis wrote this book: Serve wisdom freely

And knowledge - but not fornication!
XII

The Olympian hero came victorious to the hetaera

And said to the beautiful woman, All honour to beauty!
See how the neck of the strong goat breaks
The overpowering charm of the young girl's skirt!

XIII

O dear mother of mine, by the father of all light,

How could I take to bed that good-for-nothing,
Who would have all the girls in his bed,
That all they may unite in his bed to feed him?

XIV

Go another way, thou grey-haired man,

At the hour of death, think not of love then
With a trollop's wife! If thou wilt consecrate thyself to God,
Then die not with sexual cries!

XV

Gnathaena invited me, we drank red wine.

Diphilus, she said, now we two are alone.
Gnathaena, I said, how cold is your cup,
The drinker's lip is frozen to the rim of the cup!
That is the punishment, she smiled back at me,
For appearing so often in thy plays.

XVI

Gnathaena feared who might exaltedly

Learn the arts, and be richer in the gifts
Of the art of love than she. Diphilus pays her,
By showing her face in his plays.

XVII

Now tell me, my poet, why do you write such things?

Away, all you sinners who do such wicked things!
Euripides stood there and was deeply astonished
And thus in his beard he murmurs softly and murmurs,
You whore, is it not you who do bad things?
Why are you surprised when a poet writes about it?
The whore said, Poet, I give the body to you,
It is but evil to them that think evil of it!

XVIII

O by Athena and the gods of all delights!

How cold the waters are in thy deep fountain! -
The punishment is that thy word deceived me
And let me speak in the most foolish prologue!

XIX

A man from a foreign land, a heroic warrior,

Who thought himself victor in all battles,
Who once came to Athens and looked around,
Then sent to Mania the messenger,
He would pay money to the Phrygian hetaera
And give her whatever she desires.
To the banquet he now invited a drinking companion,
Such a drinking companion, who also, full of wild madness,
Who likes to bathe his cracked gullet in red wine
And strays in intoxication from the narrow path of mercy,
Our husband asked him, My brother, tell me,
What in this world is the swiftest beast of all?
The riddle was subtle and witty,
How to hunt antelopes like black panthers.
Mania was in the room, was more beautiful than a dream,
And now and then left the room of the carousal,
And the woman said wittily, The fastest animal? You, warrior!
The fastest animal of all? It is you, victor!
For I remember, my soul‘s guest,
How you once dropped your shield in war!

XX

Mania smiled, My darling, by the prophets,

I only want to learn from Olympic athletes,
The shot-putters who thrust and thrust and thrust!
So thrust in the night, you too, in my lap!

XXI

Callisto once spoke, the dissolute harlot,

O Socrates, you man with furrows in your brow,
With thy oratory thou canst entice no son away,
Who wants Callisto's worthless whore's wages!
In reply Socrates gave the hooker of hookers,
The gods are with thee, erotes, naked cherubs,
Thou hast it also very easy, thy way is richly ornamented,
The gate open, wide, that leads to damnation!
But I led them the road, a steep one,
Up the narrow path through thorns to salvation!
The broad way down through dark whores' alleys
Rather go the people, the rabble of stupid masses.
The path of virtue is steep, is without sinful charm,
And few there be that go the way to the cross!

XXII

The strumpet Thais spoke to Euthydemus thus,

What then is a sophist with his A and O,
What else but a woman, who lasciviously as a hetaera
Gives herself to the man when he desires the woman?
As the hetaera the sophist has only in mind
Mammon's favour and grace, earthly gain.

XXIII

The wise Solon once saw many men in Athens,

The all-knowing he saw and the all-skilful,
Who were ever full of lust and ever potent,
But they still lacked the female element.
So Solon planted in his city, the pure,
The prostitutes, the beloved and vulgars.
They stood in the market, stripped bare, stark naked,
Let the man try them, if they are fit for the act.
O man of Greece, are you plagued by life's sorrows?
Away with sadness! Enter thou that chamber,
Only give thy denars, though thou be overflowing,
She'll do thee as thou wilt, she'll love thee as thou wilt!

XXIV

Zeus-father knows it well, ye old wives,

The strumpets have not a silvery grey hair.
They have not made their mouths scarlet,
Not dark-blue tinted the slit of the eye flash.
And when the sun glows, from front and back,
Not tears they weep like dark blue inks,
And not make-up mixes, the blue with the red.
Not grey is the thin hair. They do not tremble at death.
The young hurdles are certainly not like those
Wizened wives with dull grey strands.

XXV

Oh, just for the profit of robbing the neighbour,

That's why the turtledoves coo in love!
And they make webs, a sweet spider's web,
That's sticky and hungry for a woman's pleasure.
Ah, all the hetaeras, they are not what they seem,
The naked body is hidden under the linen.
One of them is too small, so she adds to it
And high heels she wears under her shoe.
The woman's pelvis is beautifully wide? To imagine this,
She wears her girdle to show her charms.
The other woman's eye is nothing but a slit,
She then deceives with a woman's wit
And paints the lips with fiery red make-up,
That each may wish to drink from her mouth.
The other's breast is small, not splendidly large,
Whereas great breasts are the delight of all men,
That the woman then fills with an artificiality.
The other woman's belly is fat, is too broad,
Her hips like a ring, she wears wide skirts,
That the horny he-goats do not notice.
There is a part of the body very well built - a fact
Is what I tell you - then they show it naked.
When their breasts are like white foam waves,
Then they let their breasts spill out of their shirts.
If a tooth is white, she surely often laughs
And shows the snow of her teeth and the power of her beauty.
And if she is sad, she wants to be tickled,
A poet then shall jest as a fool before her,
Thus the teeth she shows again, the string of pearls.
So wise in art is each, each harlot.

XXVI

Diogenes once spoke, the cynic, the dog,

To Aristippus, the Socratic, announced,
My Aristippus, you love a naked whore?
Turn and accept the teaching that is pure
And become a cynic like me, a poor dog!
But Aristippus spoke with a smile around his mouth,
Diogenes, it seems bad for you to live there,
Where many have dwelt for eons?
No, said Diogenes, it does not seem bad to me at all.
And Aristippus said, And has not one the right,
To sail in the ship in which many have sailed?
But, said Diogenes, what of the harlots?
And Aristippus said, Then will I delight myself
In the woman, who with her sweet body
Has refreshed many, in this world of shadows
I will give myself also to the naked harlot in lust!

XXVII
The courtesan there, how beautifully she knows how to eat!
You don't see her eating the flesh as roughly as men,
She does not open her mouth to gulp down
What, the hunter, in the net for her table catches,
Not with her teeth does she wolfishly tear at the flesh,
Nay, she dines with moderation, like a pious chaste
Consecrated maiden of Miletus, so full of measure
The courtesan beautifully ate the roast duck.

XXVIII

O goddess Muse, sing to me of the manner of women,

As I have often seen them on earth!
The one is full of strength and is strong like men,
The other is full of lust, sucking juice from the marrow,
The other is very prudent, they almost call her wise,
The other, unjust, is severe in every way,
The other chases away the suitor that loves her
And yet accepts all that he gives her in sacrifice.

XXIX

Thus said Socrates to the harlot Theodote,

In thy body dwelleth the soul unto death,
The soul instructs thee how the body's splendour
Gives the pleasures that men rejoice in,
And how the speeches of thy warm heart
Are as wise as learned from the ancient rolls,
As thou dost welcome the pious guest of soul,
That thou hate the wicked man with all thy heart!
And when a friend of yours comes to the sick
In the hospital, as thou art, the gods will thank,
You shall visit him and hold his hand.
And if a friend found happiness already on earth,
That thou with him rejoice to give thanks to the great God.
But if a sickness comes into his mind
And great sadness, then give him your hand
And smile sweetly on him and comfort him charmingly!

XXX

The old mother spoke an admonition to her daughter,

Diphilus told me, I have a presentiment,
That thou hast drunk with the company
Of the friend, and danced with all the charm's strength,
That with the cymbal's swing thou didst feast all men.
And that then you gave his friend many kisses.
XXXI

So Socrates said of the girl Theodote,

She was so beautiful in Aphrodite's fashion,
Who was a girlfriend who honours all men
And gives every man what he desires of her.
A painter saw her once, he wanted to paint her,
That he saw Urania radiate around the girl,
Then she became his model. He saw, if you believe it,
The fair lady as naked as virtue allows.

XXXII

Thus said Socrates of the maiden Theodote,

O that the beautiful woman in Aphrodite's fashion
Showed us her beauty and gracious grace,
That we worshipped Urania in pious worship,
That she let herself be seen from crown to feet,
That to those who saw was God's great mercy.
Who was more blessed, she who let herself be seen,
We who looked upon this woman of Paradise?
Who profited more, the woman who let herself be seen,
We that looked the fairest of women naked?

XXXIII

Praxiteles created the form of Eros,

He thus revealed the power of Eros
And thus revealed as genius modest,
What he had to suffer from Eros' power.
He made the model according to his inner sense
And then gave it to Phryne as a love offering.
Eros' spell no longer comes from weapons,
It comes now from the image that the genius made.

XXXIV

The naked queen of love and lust

Now stands as Knidia with her breast exposed
In her place of worship, accessible to all men,
Who gaze upon her with eyes of connoisseurship,
And as the goddess would have it, the lust born,
The naked goddess is seen from behind and in front.
The goddess is beautiful in every way, the naked one!
Miss Phryne was the model for this Venus nude.

XXXV
Cythere Paphia walked on the sea,
So as to reach the temple at Knidos,
And looked upon her effigy, the marble goddess beautiful,
And sighed softly then with loving moan,
Praxiteles, my friend, how am I to understand,
When did you see Paphia Kythere naked?

XXXVI

Miss Phryne smiling spoke to the artist, her friend,

Have no fear, my friend. Thou hast, it seems to me,
The goddess's nude made, the one and only, incomparable,
The naked queen of love unattainable,
As never a man made. The mistress of thy flesh
Thou hast thus immortalised. Your work of art is a chaste one.
I, Phryne, was the model for Aphrodite nude,
You saw me, your model and your muse, naked.
The fifty-year-old woman Phryne, your model,
Is now worshipped as a deity here in the temple.

XXXVII

Miss Phryne once stood before judges, advocates,

The sentence in the court they were already pronouncing,
When Phryne, in a moment, for posterity to know,
Took off her shirt from her bosom,
In the presence of advocates there, and in the presence of lawyers strange,
She stood bare-chested and with her shirt rent,
She revealed to the court her naked breasts
And they all cheered loudly before the epitome of lust!
And her defender spoke thus before the court,
The goddess of all lust in her seat of the shell
Preserves the priestess, the prophetess of her delights,
The queen of lust is well disposed to Phryne!
So gracious in judgment the goddess of all pleasure
To the fairest Phryne was with bosom bared.

XXXVIII

For good reason sacred sanctuaries are build

For the hetaeras beautifully in love of women-glories,
But in Greece in no place is there to be seen
A temple erected by husbands to their wives.

XXXIX

But the hetaeras are called girlfriends alone,

The hetaeras will only be dedicated to the goddess of love,
The goddess of friendship, praised in many a myth,
As Saint Urania, Hetaira Aphrodite!
The goddess first establishes the beautiful bond of friendship
Of men and women with many-kissed mouths.

XL

It is a pious custom, as pious customs are,

That in the seaport of Corinth they pray,
To the goddess-queen, the sea-foam's blossom,
The men pray to the goddess Aphrodite
And beseech the goddess for the grace of the hetaera,
That the hetaeras in the cult of Aphrodite
Give themselves lovingly to feed the men.
The harlots then come with their offerings.

XLI

Ye young girls, ye servants of love,

Slaves of Peitho, rulers of lust,
You burn the incense on the sacred altar
And offer hot prayers to the Great Mother!
It is guaranteed to you, one may with most beautiful drives
In the ransacked bed you fancifully love!
But I ask myself, what will the Father God say
To this song? Will he mock with derision,
That I have sung sweetly with honeyed tongue,
As I loved on my feet the lovely, the young?

XLII

O port of Corinth, O most happy port,

With a thousand harlots will I sleep in the temple,
Many thousand harlots are in the port of Corinth,
Are hierodules and hetaeras, lovely are
The girls! And the city has become rich,
Because men from all over the world come to Corinth
And many a sailor comes and many a captain,
To see this paradise on earth!

XLIII

In the port of Corinth a festival of love

Is celebrated, a festival of free impulses!
The free citizen's wife does not take part in the feast,
But all the slave girls are lustful and horny
And the playmates and suitors are drunk!
Oh bliss, at the bosom to suck drunken!

XLIV

King Gyges once, the lord of Lydia,

Possessed by the maid of Saint Urania,
Possessed by the woman, the free love‘s fool,
Possessed like a fool by his flesh's mistress,
Of the kingdom's half he offered to the beloved
And loved this woman even after her death
And built a monument of greatness to her spirit,
Because he was possessed by this lap of laps!
The monument was so great, the monument of love,
That from the top of Tmolus you can still see it.

XLV

The great Harpatus of Macedonia,

Who plundered Alexander's treasure, once saw
Pythionice and coveted the hetaera
And gave her all, money and vigour and honour,
Though the fair woman, Pythionice, was but a hetaera,
A hætaera and nothing but a common whore.
And when the harlot died, the harlot of all harlots,
Then he built for her the greatest of figures,
Built for her a gigantic monument,
To which the whole world burns in hot lust!
And when they buried her coffin in the earth,
Their flutes blew beautifully the shepherds of her flock
And choirs sang aloud when the flutes were blown,
That Pythionice went to God in Paradise!

XLVI

On the sacred road to sacred Athens,

Athena's temple can be seen from afar.
There stands a monument, which is regarded by keen connoisseurs
As a monument of a great wise man,
The democrat's mark, the great Pericles,
It would also be worthy of the wise Socrates.
But if you look closer, the monument
Is adorned with the name of a woman,
The name of a woman who had been
A prostitute, kown as Pythionice,
Her friend once built her this gigantic monument.

XLVII
In sacred Athens, the navel of the gods' wisdom,
A monument is to be seen, as also in daughter Babel,
Which Alexander's friend erected,
The most beautiful monument in the ancient world,
Where Pythionice was the example of love's lust,
A temple was erected for her by her friend,
Where Pythionice was besought by suitors,
As Pythionice, yes, as Venus in prayer!

XLVIII

The great Harpatus commanded the people,

The king's commandment of power, that had to mean,
To offer him the crown of a lord,
So may all the world, by the goddess of the Morning Star,
First offer the diadem, the pure,
To the lord's favourite, the fairest naked whore,
For as he was king in his noble mind,
So was the favourite queen of the realm,
The naked whore was the great Basilissa
Of the Basilea, handmaid of the goddess Aphrodite!
Heed the commandment, ye men, most carefully,
Honour the queen more than mother or wife!

XLIX

Ah, that most beautiful woman,

Who shares the temple of the gods
With Eros, that woman, love's model!
Wherein is this woman skilled in magic,
With which she her suitors enslave and oppress?

I saw the marble image of Cottina, the hetaera.

When I look at the marble image, I desire,
Cottina I desire at once. Like snow the breasts bright!
Cottina's name is also near a brothel,
Colona near, where on top of everything
There's also a temple to Saint Dionysus.
The brothel is well known in this little town,
There mature women and astonished girls serve
And offer sacrifices. Athena also watches
Cottina's marble breast, a cow's udder!

LI

There was once a woman, the beautiful little hurdle Thais,

She was just as beautiful as that little hurdle Lais.
To Alexander said the strumpet Thais then,:
O Alexander, come now to Persia,
Intoxicate with fire wine the women all,
That they, intoxicated with wine, with wild-eyed hands
Tear down the temples of Persia in revenge,
Because Persians once stormed the grove of Aphrodite!
And so it came to pass. The many young men
In drunken smoke, of wine learned wise connoisseurs,
And drunken women in ecstasy and intoxication
Tearing down the temples in bows and in heaps
And stormed through the city with flaming torches!
The woman's pelvis dances! The woman's breasts shake!

LII

It was in Abydos that the slaves lurked cunningly

And the hetaeras all conquered the walls
And entered the city and set it on fire
And murdered in their sleep the men and the boys.
Then they consecrated the city, which now glowed in the fire,
To the goddess of sex, the goddess Aphrodite!

LIII

As Persians invaded from the dark Orient,

To murder Greece in the pious Occident,
The harlots prayed to the goddess Aphrodite,
That Aphrodite might protect the blossom of the West,
The hetaeras worshipped and consecrated Greece
To the Queen of Heaven, trusted in her hand
Wise Greece, Athenian citadels.
Prayers arose from heavenly brothels!

PART XIX

APHRODITE

CANTO I

Muse! Sing to me Aphrodite, the goddess of love!

Gods and men call her genital-loving,

Because she sprang from the penis of Uranos, father in heaven.
With her go Eros and Himeros, the god of desire,
When she was born and when she went to the assembly
Of the Olympian gods, her honour from the beginning
Is the title: friend of the phallus, and gods and men
Give her this title, who whispers love to the maidens
In the ear and produces the smile and beautiful phantoms
And the sweetest joys of love and the graces‘ grace.

This golden Aphrodite pours the graces

And chartismen on the heads of mortal men
And consuming longing and wearying sorrow!

But the tender maiden, who lives at home with her mother,
Is not yet instructed in the works of Aphrodite.

But Zeus said to Aphrodite, the king of the gods,

Care only for the beautiful mysteries of holy matrimony!

Diomedes said to Aphrodite the goddess,

It is enough that you lead women mad in madness!

Zeus mocked Aphrodite, then Athena said,

It is Aphrodite who moves the wife of the Achaeans,
That the Achaeans hopelessly follow the dear Trojans,
Holding in her hands the beautiful dresses of Achaean women.

During the Trojan War, Cypris ignited the love,

Aphrodite the love of Helen and her Paris.
Aphrodite approached Helen, saying,
Come to me, for Alexandros calls you, beloved,
Come to him in the house, he is now in the room, in bed. -
Helen reluctantly followed and went into the chamber,
To Paris' beautiful, high, vaulted bedchamber.
Aphrodite, the lover of laughter, Philomeides,
Made an armchair and carried it, the goddess,
Set it before Alexandros and Helen, daughter
Of Zeus with the aegis, and took their place. Paris to the woman spoke,
Come, let us rather go to bed and practise the art of love!
Never before as now has passion all my senses
Enchanted, kindled by goddess Aphrodite,
Not when by Lacedaemon first I took thee, beloved,
When I took thee captive and carried thee away in a ship of the sea,
Not when I lay with thee in love's bed on thy back
On the island of Kranae, now I love thee still more, beloved,
And a sweet longing grips me in all my temples. -
He spoke it on the way to bed, and his beloved
Walked the path with him. They were bedded together
In the carved bed of Cypris to delights of love.

But Hera, the queen of heaven, lily-armed,

Asked Aphrodite for her belt of charms,
If she would lend it. For a long time the married couple Tehtys
And Okeanos sorrowfully apart, and far from the bed
Of love's sweet pleasures, since strife has
Entered their feelings. Persuade the loving hearts,
Bring them back to their bed to be merged in love!
She spoke, and from Aphrodite's great naked breasts
Were unleashed the artful and patterned girdle,
Thereon are all the deceits of women's deceivers,
Loveliness on it and sweetness and the fire of sexus
And the whispered caresses of wooing suitors,
That steal the heart even of men strong in thought.
Aphrodite said to Hera, queen of heaven,
Take this girdle, hide it in the cleft of thy bosom!
All things of love are contained in the girdle.
Whatever your heart desires, it will not remain unfulfilled.

O the golden Aphrodite Cypris, the goddess,

Who awakens the sweet passion in the eternal gods
And rules the tribes of mortal men by lust!
Gods and men love the works of the richly crowned
Kythereia. Among the blessed gods,
Among mortal men there is none who ever
Aphrodite escape, save the maiden Diana,
Vesta and her Vestal Virgins, and the wise Athena.

At the command of Cypris Aphrodite, the goddess,

Eros pours sweetness and warms my heart in my bosom!

Eros establishes firm bonds and loose ties,

Loose ties are strengthened by Aphrodite.

Had not Eros come into the room of the lovely girl,
With the melting heart of Eros' skilful mother,
Aphrodite wouldn‘t have showered the girl with loveliness!

Again Eros looks at me with melting glances of the lashes,

Slinging his manifold charms and banishing me
Into the net of Aphrodite, the golden goddess.
O how I dread the beginning of Eros' painful reign!

Men come with the gifts of golden Cypris,

Kyprogeneia Aphrodite presents them with gifts.
But the gifts of the goddess, love and desire,
These gifts of the purple-crowned Kyprogeneia
Become painful burdens for mortal men,
Which they can hardly bear in their suffering hearts,
That they implore deliverance from the pangs of love!

Cyprus-born Aphrodite, weaving the lists,

To honour thee, Zeus hath prepared for thee special gifts.
For you overwhelm the healthy minds of men,
There is none strong enough to escape thee.

O youthful loveliness of maidens, alluring

They entice to themselves the languishing looks of men!
For the tender ripeness of the summer fruit cannot be protected.
Cypris Aphrodite spreads messages afar
In the foreign land of ripe fruit, fresh and sweet.
All men, as they pass, ruled by desire,
Shoot seductive arrows of glowing eyes
At the tender beauty of the lovely maidens' bodies!

Cypris Aphrodite, goddess of hot desire,

Had done her lovely work in the hearts
And the Argonauts with the widowed women
From fair Lemnos. She wanted Hephaistos,
That glorious artisan, better to please,
And to save the island of Lemnos. There was a lack of men.
Lemnos lived on dancing and banquets. The burnt-offering
Fragrant filled the air. Of all the immortals it was
Hera's glorious son Hephaistos and Cypris, the golden one,
To whom songs and sacrifices were pleasingly fashioned.

Aphrodite, the laughing queen, is the one who nightly

Brings forth creation, the lady, harmonious worlds,
To unite, all spring from the divine omnipotence.
She is the goddess of marriage, charming to the gaze of men,
Mother of erotes, who delights in banquets,
Source of sweet persuasion to pleasures of love,
Secretly gracious queen, she is illustrious born,
She is manifest and unseen, gushing fountain
And goddess of birth and inclined to loving men,
Goddess of fertility, most desired of men,
Life-giver, she bears the heavenly sceptre of the gods,
Binding men in necessary chains and cords,
Binding all tribes of monsters with magic chains,
Binding all by the madness of love's desire!

Socrates said, Let us ask what thoughts

Did men have in giving names to gods.
For the first men, they gave names to the gods,
Were not ordinary men, labourers, peasants,
But philosophers and eloquent orators. -
Then Hermogenes said, What about Dionysus, my dear?
What about Aphrodite, the golden goddess of love?
Socrates said, You ask great things, my brother.
There are serious and witty interpretations of all these names.
Now concerning Aphrodite, the goddess of love,
We derive her name from aphros, foam or seed.

Many wish to satisfy themselves with the slavish delightful lusts,

Slavish delightful pleasures called Aphrodisios,
Sexual pleasures or the goddess of love.

Let us begin with the goddess called Aphrodite,

But her true name is surely Hedoné, Voluptuousness!
My experience in relation to the names of the gods
Yet always exceeds the greatest human reverence.
And I now call Aphrodite by the name,
That is pleasant to her. But the pleasures of love,
Yes, has different aspects. If we begin with Cypris,
We must consider and examine what is the nature
Of her divinity, for her name is but a sound,
She knows how to assume all possible forms,
All her forms are one and the same joy of love.

What of thy Aphrodisius, Sophocles, brother?

Is thy natural strength still undiminished?

Dost thou know a greater or keener lust

Than Aphrodisius, Aphrodite's feelings?
I know nothing higher, nor even a madder thing!

Behold, of the divine madness there are four kinds of madness,

The prophetic madness of an ardent seer.
And the philosophical madness of the sober thinker
And the poetic madness of the appointed priest of the muse
And the erotic madness of the obsessed suitor!
The erotic madness is ruled by the gods
Aphrodite and Eros. The erotic madness
Is the best madness, namely love is divine.

This surname of the goddess, Melaina, the Black,

Aphrodite rightly bears it, because men, like animals,
Do not practise sexual intercourse in broad daylight
Mostly, but regularly in dark nights.

Also, the goddess Aphrodite is given the name

Of Machanitis, and this is truly the most appropriate name.
In my opinion, for very much are the forms of speech
And the words of seduction, invented by men,
To practise the works of Aphrodite in bed.

Daughter Harmonia, daughter of Aphrodite, she called

Aphrodite first by the name of Urania, celestial,
To denote pure and free love thus,
And gave to Aphrodite the second name Pandemos,
The common, to name intercourse,
And the third name of the goddess Apostrophia,
That mankind unlawful passion, sin,
Rejects, for Harmonia knew of many offences,
Not only committed by foreigners, but also by Greeks,
Similar to the legend of the beautiful Adonis' mother,
Who committed incest with her own father,
Or the legend of Phaedra, daughter of Minos,
Who had ingratiated herself with her son-in-law,
Or the legend of Tereus the Thracian, the sacrilegious,
Who cruelly raped his brother's wife.
Kranai, the island off the coast of Lacedaemonia,
Is the place where Alexandros, Paris of Troy,
Carried off Helen, he had on the shore of the sea
Beautiful sexual intercourse with the most beautiful Greek woman.
Therefore also on the mainland opposite the island
Is a temple of Migonitis, the temple of the sex goddess.

Apollonius of Tyana, the pagan priest,

Asked Timasion, his disciple and spiritual foster son,
Do you also sacrifice to the great Aphrodite, my boy?
And Timasion gave the answer to his father and teacher,
Yes, by Zeus, I sacrifice daily to the golden goddess
Aphrodite, for I think the goddess of love
Certainly has a great influence on human things,
And not on these alone, but also on divine things.

The guitar, the night, and Venus give me joy!

Save me, Saviour, by the power of almighty Venus,

That is my prayer, for Venus is always ready,
But may you love no one who spurns you.

More than Juno, O Hercules, was thy curse Venus!

The latter depressed thee and later exalted thee,
But she ruled thee with consuming lust!

Around the backs and pillows of the bed of the golden goddess
Aphrodite hovers a group of sweet erotes,
She commands the erotes to carry her torches,
She commands them which hearts to bewitch,
Where they shall exercise their terror, by sea and land,
To gainsay the gods, or to provoke Zeus to anger.

This is the penitent and the sinful lust of love,

Which hath made love a god, Cupid,
And to enjoy more freedom, as well as the wild
Passion is given the name of a deity.
Erycina, the goddess of Eryx, the goddess of love,
Sends her son through all the lands, he flies through the sky,
In his boyish hands wanton weapons,
He is one of the gods, he has a mighty empire.
These love-entangled souls have embraced the vain
Imagination assumed, and the deity of Venus,
Deceives with the archery of the childish god.

Often Cupid overthrows stubborn hearts and changes their nature

And transforms hard hearts' hate into desire.
So consider the Amazons, the women of war,
How they felt the yoke of the almighty goddess of love.

Theseus, who believed that his son Hippolythus, the chaste,

Raped his father's wife with wild lust,
Theseus laments, This is the madness of the race of women,
To despise the power of Venus,
To despise the law of Venus and to prostitute,
To prostitute the body to the crowd. Vile race,
That bows to no laws of a better land!
Animals themselves shun incestuous love lust,
Instinctive chastity guards Venus' laws.

You, Egyptian Isis, are the heavenly Venus,

When you gave birth to Cupid, when you created the world,
Thou didst unite the sexes of men and women
And multiplied the human race by the procreation of children.
You are worshipped in the wave-shaped shrine of Paphos.
But at other times thou art Proserpina, who
Howls in the night, the threefold form of the one goddess,
One Goddess restricts the emergence of evil demons,
Who thou keepest the entrance to earth above firmly shut.
And thou wilt wander through various sacred groves
And thou art propitiated by various sacrificial rites.

And so the goddess Harmonia, daughter

Of Aphrodite, with the lovely girdle,
Who directs the cherished desire, in the womb of the goddess
Seed of many children, all she divinely created.

But Nemesis, the goddess of righteous retribution,

Showed the corpse of the boy murdered by the nymph,
Showed the corpse to Aphrodite, the Cyprian goddess,
And slandered Eros of unjust conduct.
Pan and Phoebus Apollo cried aloud at the corpse,
Woe, a curse on the flute! Where is Nemesis' vengeance?
Where is Cypris? Eros, avenge the young lover!

Aphrodisis or the aphrodisiac remedy

Is the work of Aphrodite, the golden goddess,
It is given to lustful men who live erotically
And are inclined to sexual intercourse with lustful women.
An aphrodisaic oath may be violated,
For those who swear out of passion often swear false oaths.

Who is Anorgias? Uninitiated in the rites of the goddess,

Unversed in the mysteries of divine love,
Aphrodite's rites are not practised by the uninitiated,
They do not practise the intercourse of the sexes,
Have not perfected the sexual union.

Wheat grains cooked are aphrodisiacs,

That is why they are sacrificed to Aphrodite.

Procreation is the intercourse of the works of the goddess of love.

Who is Kythereia? She has the divine love

Keuthomenon hidden within her, she sends it to all,
For by her girdle of loveliness she is all-powerful.

Who is Cypris? She is a pregnant goddess,

Kuoporis. The same goddess is Cythere,
Because she conceals matters of love.

Aphrodite with Zeus and the queen of heaven Hera

And with Eileithyia and Hymenaeus, O Hymen,
Stood as gods of matrimony before the rites of marriage,
Aphrodite is goddess of matrimonial union
And of the fertility of the beloved as mother of children.

Aphrodite presides over the ceremonies of the wedding.

After the contests she goes to the bridal chamber, decorates it
With garlands and makes the bed ready for mingling,
Then takes the maiden to the bridal chamber, brings her to the bed-chamber.
Aphrodite herself riding on the chariot of the Graces,
Comes with her choir of erotes, divine boys,
To join in the fun. And she braids her hair,
Her hyacinth hair. Then she adorns the wings
Of the erotes with gold, of the naked divine children,
Drives them forward in procession before the bridal chariot,
Waving torches in the air of the serene sky.

When a woman murders her husband, and when the Erinnyes

Do not punish, the cruel Erinnyes dishonour
Thus the promises of marriage of the queen of heaven Hera
And of Zeus, and destroy the promise of marriage.
Aphrodite is thus cast aside by them,
For from Aphrodite comes the beautiful she-lover
For mortal man, and the marriage destined by fate,
Marriage between man and woman is worth more than oaths
And is guarded by the goddess of justice Dike.

Each bride shall take the life of her bridegroom

And dye the sharp sword in his human blood,
So shall Aphrodite, goddess of holy matrimony,
Come upon all my enemies and destroy them utterly.

May the pure Artemis look upon all the holy maidens
With compassion and may marriage
Never be consummated by compulsion, which Cypris prevents.
No, in my friendly hymn in honour of the gods
There is no contempt of Aphrodite, marriage,
For she has power together with Hera, wife of the Most High,
And for the solemn rites of the sacred marriage
Is held in honour Aphrodite the goddess.
And in Aphrodite's retinue is Pothos, desire,
Peitho, persuasion, and Harmonia, daughter
Of the goddess of love, creates harmonious oneness,
And the Erotes give whispering tender touch.
Aphrodite alone is the goddess of holy matrimony.

The virgin Athena and Ares, in war the supreme gods,

Artemis stands by women in the travail of childbirth,
Aphrodite respects all the interests of marriage.

Among the honours which the goddess Aphrodite received

From the Hermionians, is the custom of marrying
Of unwounded virgins and lonely widows.

But in Sparta the mother sacrifices to the goddess of love,

When the daughter is married to a good man.

Also in Sparta is an image of Aphrodite, the goddess,

Shackles on her feet, by the mythical king
Tyndareus, the fetters symbolise the loyalty of men and women,
The fidelity of men and women in the sacrament of marriage.

There is also an image of Aphrodite in Temnos in Elis,

Which was consecrated by Pelops, when he married,
And Hippodameia became his wife.

Also in a cave in Naupaktos they worship

Aphrodite and offer pious prayers to the goddess,
Widows ask the goddess to grant them marriage.

Venus and Juno and Hymenaeus, the deity of Hymen,

Joined together, the rite of holy wedlock to give
Divinely blessing, their love was sanctified,
Iphis won his Iannit, and they were united,
Bride and bridegroom were joined as husband and wife.

Let me sing an epithalamium for you on your wedding day:

May the high gods who reign in heaven,
Also the holy gods that rule the seas,
With the gracious divinity yet attend the nuptials
Our prince bless with the loud applause of the people.
A snow-white wild bull with raised neck
We offer to Jove and Juno, our thundering gods,
A snow-white heifer, untouched by the yoke,
Let us sacrifice to Aphrodite, who keeps the bloody hands
Of rough Mars away from us, the god of war,
Aphrodite, bring peace to the peoples of the earth
And give us rich gifts from an overflowing cornucopia,
Mild goddess, to her we offer a tender sacrifice.
Hymenaeus holds the torches of legal marriage,
Who scatters the night in lust with his propitious right hand.
Come and drink the intoxicating potion and stagger with drunken steps,
Adorn your temples with garlands of roses! Thou evening star Vesper,
Star of Aphrodite, forerunner of dawning twilight,
Who always returns too slowly for loving couples,
Brides eagerly await thee to see thy rays!

Aphrodite is the goddess of the blessed bridal arbour.

Aphrodite adorned together with naked erotes

Beautiful a glorious bed for the delights of the holy wedding,
Hanging in the bridal chamber golden apples, fruits
From the garden of the nymphs, a gift of love for the spouse.

Aphrodite spoke to Eros, the divine son,

Honour my bridesmaid bird of love, the dove,
Herald of lifelong marriage and happy hearts!

Callirhoe was in love with the rich Cythere

Aphrodite, united with Krhysaor of stony heart.

Circe brought forth Telegonos, the beautiful,

By golden Aphrodite's sacred will.

Gaia, the Mother Earth, gave birth to Typhoeus, the youngest,

Whom she conceived from the seed of Tartarus,
By golden Aphrodite's divine help.

Polycaste was in love with Telemachos, the youth,

Foolishly in love by Aphrodite's all-powerful influence.

And all night the man lay with the woman, the modest,
And enjoyed the gifts of the golden goddess.

Aphrodite, O mother of the naked boy-erotes,

Thou art the source of life in the everlasting universe!

Aphrodite is the pilot of human life.

Genetylis is the genital demon,

Who is associated with Aphrodite, the goddess of love,
Is responsible for procreation. This his name
Comes from the genesis of new men in the womb of mothers.

O the golden Aphrodite, the divine Cypris,

Whose sweet passions stir up gods
And mortal men and birds of the air
And the many creatures on dry land
And that swarm in the sea, all love the works
Of Cythere adorned with rich golden wreaths.

Aphrodite came to the much-vaunted Ida,

The mother of the wild creatures of the earth.
Behind her went the grey wolves, the enemies of the sheep,
And the wild lions also with the fierce eyes
And the swift leopards and roaring bears,
But the leopards were very hungry for the deer.
Aphrodite was glad at heart to see them all,
And desire she hid in her mighty breasts,
So that all together, always two together,
Roamed the shadowy groves of the hills.

Father Uranos in heaven was full of longing,

To wound Mother Gaia on earth with his spear,
And the longing also filled the Earth, the Mother,
To be married to the Father in Heaven.
And the rain, fallen from the loving sky,
And impregnated Mother Earth, bringing food to mankind,
Meat from the beasts of the flock, and the grain of bread from Demeter.
And from this humid rite of the sacred marriage
Spread out the forests on earth. Of all these things
I, the blessed goddess of procreation, am the cause.

Aphrodite, all harmonious worlds are yours,

All is closely joined to thee, by thee it is created,
Divine power, and all the productions of love
Willingly surrender to thee, what the encompassing sky
Bears, the birds, and what the producing earth
Bears fruit, the flesh of animals, tame and wild,
What the sea holds, the mammals and fishes,
All confess thy dominion and obey thy nod!

Eros, you are the guardian of the keys of heaven and earth
And of the birds of the air and all the fish of the sea
And in all the fruitful realms of the beasts of the earth,
It is through Aphrodite, the all-embracing goddess,
Who sustains life or dims it, doomed to death,
To her obey the various realms of Mother Nature, which
She alone rules and influences all creation.

And the hare possesses the gift of the golden goddess

Aphrodite, fertility of unusual degree.
In any case, it is said of the female that while she is
Suckling the young she has whelped, already bears another litter
To share the same milk, again she conceives,
There is no time, since she bears not young in the womb.

Aphrodite! O mother of the most beautiful Erotes!

O seed-giver of an eternal universe!

Aphrodite, root of life, seed of existence,

Midwife of nature and hope of the eternal universe,
Even the goddesses of fate fling confusing threads
Solely at the behest of your will, Goddess of Love!

Guest-loving girls, courtesans and strumpets,

Servants of Peitho in rich Corinthos!
You who offer the golden tears of the holy incense
That often in your souls have welled up to Venus!
Aphrodite's temple was so rich in Corinthos,
That it possessed more than a thousand sacred harlots,
Men and women consecrated themselves to the goddess of love.
Therefore, because of the harlots, the city was full of men.

Therefore also in Corinth, because of the multitude of harlots,

Who, as prostitutes, were sacred to Venus,
A great number of strangers vacationed here.

The obscene propoitides of Cypros dared,

To deny Aphrodite's most blessed divinity.
Therefore the wrath of the goddess, so the legend says,
Made them the first trumpeters to prostitute themselves.

So Anchises spoke to Aphrodite, the goddess,

But by Zeus, who bears the aegis, I beseech thee,
Let me not live a paralysed life among men.
Lead, but have pity on me and mercy.
Who slept with an immortal goddess of love,
Is afterwards no more a mere man in an earthly way.

But the Scythians, who built the temple of the goddess Astarte
Aphrodite in Syria have blasphemously plundered
And the sons of the Scythians were punished by the goddess
With the female disease, with the loss of their manhood,
And so the Scythians say they are afflicted with the evil
Of the loss of manhood. He who comes to the Scythian realm,
He will see among the Scythians hermaphrodites.

Callimachus, the grammarian, said that Venus

Hid Adonis in a bed of green lettuce,
Since the poets by this image mean that eating
Of lettuce produces only impotence. And so said
Eubulus, too, said, Do not, O woman, put the salad
On the table to me, or thou wilt harm thyself.
For of the lettuce goes the tale that Venus buried Adonis
In the lettuce. That is for men who have died.

And golden Aphrodite poured grace

On Pandora's head and cruel-hot desire
And preoccupations that weary the woman's body.

O Briseis, like golden Venus in beauty!

O Cassandra, a maiden like the golden goddess!

Mother Helen gave birth to Hermione, who

Was a maiden as fair as the golden goddess of love!

And the wife Penelope came from the inner room,

Beautiful as the virgin goddess or the goddess of love!
And Alcmene's countenance and her eyes, black,
Were as full of enchantment as the goddess of love!

Antiphanes said, There is a good taste, very

Inviting, Thasian wine and ointments and roasts.
Namely, Cypris likes to dwell where it abounds,
Among the stingy people, Aphrodite does not like to stay.

Panyasis, the epic poet, writes to the Charites

And Dionysus his first sacred toast,
Again Aphrodite and Dionysus agree,
And the next toast he raises for Hubris and Ate.
For the first drop fell on the body of the Charites
And the merry Hours and the noisy Bacchus,
These are the gods who always inspire me to drink.
Here men were great when they drank of the red wine.
When a man, satisfied with that, comes from the feast
Home to his house, then he will never suffer harm.

Phoebus Apollo is in the choir of the sacred muses,

And I hear the lyre, there are boys, erotes,
Aphrodite is president among the Muses.

Hermes once founded the first Phthian games,

As did Aphrodite, she won in the games
A zither, she later gave it to Paris.

Thou in thy magnanimity, unconquered, O Ares,

Exuberant! Raging contests thou hast instigated,
Strife with vengeance, whose works are bitter,
Full of suffering human life! The lovely Cypris
And Dionysus we'd rather have, the toil of labour
In exchange for wine and love,
Peace is Aphrodite's tender work,
Gentle inclination and abundance of love and benevolence gracious.

We are yours, O Aphrodite! The bloody hands

You hold back of rough Mars, warring peoples
You bring peace, a rich cornucopia, mildest goddess!

Theban women invoke the ancestors,

Among the ancestors, they especially revere Diana,
As the hostile army of the Seven approaches the gates of Thebes.
Oh gods and goddesses all!
Arise, raise your war cry above our walls,
To drive away by force the evil that assails!
But you too, O do not be ashamed, guard your Thebes,
Thy Kadmos' city, and make thy nearness known to us,
Aphrodite, first mother of our race,
Cypris, defend us who have sprung from thy blood,
So we come to thee and call adoringly
To you in your shell ears with silver rings.
You almighty deities, gods and goddesses all,
Who have power to guard the towers of our city,
O betray not our land, now at war,
Under the spear of an army of foreign tongues!
Hear, O hear, Aphrodite, how it is just,
Hear our prayers that we girls offer to thee,
Worshipping thee with uplifted arms, divine Cypris!

About the planets: It remains to speak of five stars,

Which many call wanderers, but the Greeks
Call them Planeta. The fourth star is Venus,
Which is also called Lucifer, the bringer of light in the morning,
Some say it is the Juno planet, which in the evening
Is Hesperus. He seems the greatest of all the stars.
Some say he is the son of the virgin Aurora,
Who surpasses many in beauty, so that he
Venus is called, and is visible at dawn
And at sunset first of the stars,
Lucifer or Hesperus. Euhemerus claims,
Venus first ordered the constellations
And in the orders of the stars instructed Hermes.

But the third star is that of Ares the warrior,

Others say it is the planet of Hercules. But
Sappho, by Aphrodite forcibly kindled with love,
Named the star the Fiery One after the fire of love.

Among the seven planets the fourth is called after Venus.

Greetings, Astarte, called Aphrodite by the

Greeks, who has the name of the fourth planet.
And they say that Phosphoros is the planet of Astarte.

And through the land of Asia they galloped straight on

To the land of Aphrodite, teeming with wheat,
That is beautiful Syria, that is the land of Astarte.

Hail, Aphrodite Urania, heavenly goddess!

Behold, the first men who established her cult,
Were the Assyrians, and after the Asyrians, Cyprus.
And the Phoenicians, who lived in Ascalon by the sea
Of Palestine, the Phoenicians taught the cult
To the people of Cythera. Hence she is called Cythere.

When the barbarian army of the wild thirsty Scythians

Showed up in the city of Ascalon in the Syrian land,
Most of the Scythians passed by and without harm,
But some stayed behind and robbed the temple of
Aphrodite Urania! This temple, I know,
Is the oldest of all the temples of the celestial goddess,
For the temple in Cypros was founded later,
As the Cyprians themselves say, the house on Cythera
Was founded by the Phoenicians of the Syrian land.
But the Scythians, who plundered the temple of the goddess,
They and their children and their children's children
Were afflicted by the goddess with the disease
Of female impotence, so says the Scythian poet.

But King Antigonos, of Alexander the Great

General in the army, celebrates Aphrodisia,
Aphrodite's festival, that of Astarte of the Syrians.

Into the stream of the Euphrates fell an egg of enormous size,

Which a fish rolled onto the shore. On it sat a dove.
And when the egg was heated, Astarte hatched out.

The Greeks have a form of Aphrodite

And the Romans received from Cyprus and Syria, this one
Is called Astarte, she took Adonis for her husband.

This Astarte, called Aphrodite by the Greeks,

Took her name from the planet Venus,
Since the morning star is the star of the goddess Astarte.

And the Persians have learned in later times,

To offer their gifts to Aphrodite Urania,
Learned it from Assyrians and from Arabs. This
Assyrians call this goddess the goddess Mylitta,
In Arabia Allath, and in Persia Mithra.

But the most evil of the Babylonian customs

Is the custom that compels every woman in Babylon,
To lie as a harlot in the temple of Aphrodite,
To have intercourse with a stranger once in her life,
To lie on the bed for the act of the goddess Mylitta.
And once a woman has taken her place in the temple,
She goes no sooner home to her own household,
Till a stranger drop money in her lap and
Outside the temple has had sexual intercourse with the harlot,
Who, when he throws the money to her, must say softly,
Well, I invite you in the name of the goddess Mylitta!

Arabs believe in no other gods than only

In Dionysus and the Aphrodite of heaven,
Dionysus they call Orotalt, the Redeemer,
Aphrodite Urania they call divine Allath.

There are many towns on Prosopitis, the island,

One, from which the boats come, the bones of the bulls
To collect, is called Atarbekis. And there is a temple
Of Aphrodite, or Hathor, the Egyptian goddess.

And the only goddess the Scythians worship,

That's Aphrodite Urania, or as the Scythians say.
Argimpasa, the goddess of celestial love.

And the priests of the Scythians, eunuchs and hermaphrodites,

Say that Aphrodite Urania gave them the art,
To foretell the future in their prophetic verses.

But the Roman Venus was worshipped by Romans as a goddess,

Worshipped because she comes, the goddess venire,
But her name is derived from Venustas, beauty.

So, O Muse, you whispered the first song to me,

Now I will rest and eat meat sacrificed to the goddess,
And drink the intoxicating potion in honour of Urania!

CANTO II

Paris spoke to Helen in the Trojan War,

Never before as now has lust enchanted my senses!
(Aphrodite was present in the form of a maid.)
Lust was not so great when I first beheld thee
And took you captive and you clung to me in the ship
And I played love‘s sport with you on the island of Kranai
In the bed of love. Now lust overwhelms me!

Helen rebuked Cypris in the Trojan war,

Strange deity! Why are you so stubborn, Cypris,
To seduce me that I fell in love with Paris?
Will you continue to carry me, somewhere to the cities,
Where the citizens are still settled? In Phrygia or
There in fair Maeonia, is there a man,
A mortal man like Paris, who is loved by thee?

Diomedes turned to the divine Cypris,

It is not enough that thou leadest astray,
As you did with Helen when she slipped away with Paris!

Pallas said to Zeus, who mocked the divine Cypris,

Zeus, move then Cypris again a wife of the Achaeans,
As she once moved Helen to follow to Troy,
Hopelessly, in the beautiful robes of Achaean women?

Helen said in Troy, My desire and wish

Is now bent on going home again,
And I weep too late now for the blindness of heart,
Sent to me by Cypris, when she brought me thither,
Away from my own country, and left me daughter
And my bridal chamber forsake, the husband that is eternal,
The immortal in form and pure in thought.

Zeus plans with Themis to start the Trojan War.

Eris arrives, the goddess of strife, while the gods
Celebrate at the wedding of Peleus, and starts a quarrel
Between Hera and Athena and Aphroditissa
As to which of the three ladies is the fairest in heaven.
Now these three are led by Hermes on the instructions of Cronion
To the shepherd Alexandros on the Ida,
That he may decide. And Alexandros, because he was promised
By Aphrodite to reward the victory of Helen's marriage,
Therefore he gives Aphrodite the victory prize of beauty.
Alexandros now built ships, as Cypris advised,
Helenos foretells him the future, and Cypris befalls
The son of the goddess, Aeneas, to sail with his brother.
Alexandros lands in Lacedaemonian country,
Is greeted by the sons of Tyndareos and later on
By Menelaus in Sparta, too, where at the banquet
He gives the most beautiful gifts to the beautiful Helen.
Menelaus sailed off to sacred Crete
And commands Helen to give everything to the guests,
What they need for departure. Meanwhile Cypris
Brings together Paris and Helen, who mingle
In sensual love. And after the union they bring
Great treasures on board and sail away in the dark.
But Hera, she directs a storm against them both,
And so they come to Sidon, which Paris conquers.
Then the two sail on to Troy, his home,
Where Paris and Helen blissfully celebrate their marriage.
Now the avenging Greeks come to the beach of Troy,
Send envoys to the Trojans, that Helen may be returned
To Menelaus, and all the treasures.
But the Trojans refuse it and storm onto the battlefield,
Subdue the land and the surrounding cities.
Afterwards Achilles wants to see Helen's beauty,
Aphrodite and Thetis arrange a secret meeting.

From the island of Kranai on the coast of Lacedaemonia

The poets say that Alexandros took Helen there,
And there he had his first blissful intercourse,
Had sexual intercourse with Helena's body.
On the mainland, facing the island, a temple was built
Was founded to Cypris of the bliss of union,
Aphrodite Migonitis, which built Paris.

Alexander, at the instigation of divine Cypris,

Took from his host Menelaus his wife
Helen, took her with him from the land of Lacedaemon,
Brought her to Troy, and married Helena's beauty.

Helen laments, I was snatched from my home by Phrygian oarsmen,

From my home, a helpless prey of Paris,
But a triumphant goddess of love,
Aphrodite, gave me as a reward to the judge of beauty,
But Aphrodite gave Paris pity for Helen.
Aphrodite gave Andromache shining garments,
Golden headdress, a diadem, a silken veil
And a necklace of pearls and the enchanting girdle
On the day when Hector with the shining helmet
Led her from the house of Aetion, and gave her gifts,
To seduce her, to win her to true love.

Virgin Athena said, And now the mighty Aes,

This evil thing, this two-faced liar,
Who protested against Hera and me with pride,
He promised us that he would fight the troian
Terrible warriors and would stand faithful to the Greeks,
But all promises the god of war has forgotten,
And he now stands by the Trojans sublime heroes.

Hera addresses Zeus, Father Zeus, say, are you not angry
At the god of war for his deeds of violence, Ares,
For having so many and good Greek warriors
Killed for good cause and reasons of order,
To grieve me? In the meantime Aphroditissa
And Apollo, the long-distance hitter with silver bow
Let go with ease the god in raving madness
And with joy, who knows no more of God's justice.

Hector saw Paris and rebuked him with words of shame,

And now wilt thou not rise against Menelaus?
But thus wouldst thou learn of the warlike,
Whose blooming wife thou hast taken, Helena's beauty.
No, there the lyre will not help thee, by grace of Cypris,
Nor thy curls, when thou art rolled in the dust,
No, then all the male beauty will not help thee.

Greeks and Trojans swear the sacred oath,

If it be that Paris slay Menelaus in a duel.
He shall keep Helena's beauty for himself,
All her treasures, and we, the Greek mariners, shall
Sail home, but if Menelaus, the fair,
Kills Alexandros, the Trojans will leave us
Helena's beauty and all her precious treasures
And pay the penance as it suffices the Argives.

Menelaus and Paris fought a terrible duel.

Paris first threw his spear, which was deflected
By the shield, then Menelaus threw his own lance,
Which pierced Paris' shield and armour,
But failed. He tried to kill Paris
With his sword, but it broke on the warrior's helmet.
At last Menelaus flashed forward, now seized the helmet
Of Paris' helmet, whirled it round, and dragged it away
To the afflicted Achaeans, and the brushed strap
Choked the soft throat of Paris, fastened to his neck,
And now he would have dragged him away and won
Glory for ever, had not Aphrodite, daughter of God,
Had not Aphrodite, daughter of God, watched him keenly
From the hide of a slaughtered ox,
And the helmet vanished in the heavy hand of the Atridian.
And now the hero whirled this helmet around, hurling it
Between the strong Achaeans and his companions,
His faithful comrades fetched it again. He turned,
Turned now and was again the man who had determined,
Was determined to kill him with the long bronze spear,
But the goddess wrapped him in the thickest mist,
Put him back in his own perfumed bedroom,
His perfumed bedroom. Then went Aphroditissa,
To call Helen, and found her in Troy on the tower,
Watching the duel with Trojan women.
Aphrodite laid her hand on Helena's robe,
Shook her and spoke to her, and she was like an old woman,
A weaver, living in the land of Lacedaemon,
Making beautiful things of wool, which she loved above all others.
Like the old weaver, Aphroditissa now spoke,
Helen, come with me now! Paris calls you! Come to him!
He is now in his room, in the fragrant bed
With the round patterns, shining in glorious apparel,
Shining with a man's own beauty, thou wouldst not think
That he comes from fighting a man, you would think,
That he goes to dance or comes from dance and happy now rests.
So spoke Cypris, and stirred the spirit in Helena's bosom.
She, when she saw the round sweet throat of the lovely goddess
And the covetous breasts and eyes recognised,
Which were filled with the light that pierced the mask,
Wondered and spoke a word, and called her by name,
Strange deity! Why are you still so stubborn,
To beguile me? Will you carry me, somewhere between
Cities of the sedentary there in Phyrgia or Maeonia?
Is there then a mortal man there who is dear to thee?
Is it because Menelaus slew the great Paris
And desires, hateful as I am, to carry me
To my native land, is this the reason that thou now succourest me?
Go now and sit beside him, and forsake
Thou the gods, turn not to the way of Olympos,
But stay with him and suffer for him with compassion,
Take care of him until he makes you his wife.
Or make thee his handmaid. I will not go to him,
For it would be shameful. I will not serve his bed,
For the Trojan women hereafter would laugh at me,
And my heart is now filled with infinite grief!
Then in anger the shining goddess spoke to the girl,
Wretched girl! Do not martyr me in anger, I will go
Now from thee and hate thee, as I love thee terribly,
That I do not embrace thee in fierce hatred, caught
Between the Danaans and the Trojans, and thou shalt miserably
Perish. So she said. And Helen, daughter
Of Zeus the father, was afraid and went in the light
Finely spun robe hidden, silent, not visible
For the Trojan women and guided by the goddess.
When she came to Alexandros' splendidly wrought house,
In the remains of it, the maids went to work,
But she, the most brilliant of the glorious women,
Helen went to Paris' vaulted bedroom.
Aphrodite Philomeides, who loved laughter,
Set up an armchair, carried her, the lovely goddess,
Introduced her to Alexandros, and Helen, daughter
Of Zeus the father, took her place, averted her eyes
From the man and spoke very mockingly to the lord,
So you have returned from battle? Oh, how I wished
You had been beaten there by the stronger man, who was once my husband,
By the stronger man that once was my husband. There was a time, my love,
When you boasted that you were better than the warrior
Menelaus, with spear and hand and strength of your own.
Go now and challenge Menelaus the warrior,
Again challenge, O Paris, to fight thee in war.
But no, I advise thee better not, my dear,
You'd better not fight Menelaus the fair,
Force against force in single combat reckless. For thou may'st
Be struck down by his spear in war.
Paris in turn spoke to her and gave her answer,
Lady, rebuke my heart no more with bitter reproach!
This time Menelaus with the help of Athena
Has beaten me, another time I shall beat him.
We too have gods on our side, O mistress.
Come, and let us rather go to bed, making love!
Never before has passion enchanted my senses,
Hot inflamed by Aphrodite, who stands here as maid,
Not when first I took thee from Lacedaemonium,
Took the lovely, took thee captive, in sea-boats carried,
Thee in love's bed on the isle of Kranä,
Not even then, as now, did I love thee full of lust!
He spoke it on the way to the bed. The girl went with him.
And so they were both laid in the ornate bed.
But Menelaus wandered, like beasts of prey,
Down, to find out if somewhere there was
Alexandros the godlike? Now the gods sat
By Zeus' side in council on golden ground,
Looking at the city of the Trojans. The father Cronion
Would now anger Hera, when he spoke of her with
Words that were offensive: Two of the goddesses stand
Faithful to Menelaus, Hera and the maiden Athena,
These stand faithful to their peoples on earth.
See, here they sit together, looking at the battlefield,
Having their joy. Meanwhile, full of laughter
Aphrodite, the lover of laughter, stays with the man,
She drives away the spirits of death from him! She saved him,
When he thought he would perish in war.
But Diomedes said to the maiden Athena,
I remember the orders, Athena,
Which you gave me when you would not let me fight with the gods,
With the rest of the immortals, except Cypris,
Zeus the father's daughter, I had gone to battle,
That I might stab them with the sharp bronze of the spear.
Therefore I myself have now yielded to the god of war.

But Ares complained to his father Cronion,

When Diomedes had wounded him, O father,
Behold the son of Tydeus, Diomedes the proud,
Him Athena incited to fight with gods,
And first he wounded Cypris' hand in the joint,
Then, as if he were more than man, he fought with Ares.

Alexandros fought a duel with Menelaus, he was beaten,

Then Aphrodite, the goddess, carried him off.

Fighters who challenged opponents in war,

Were Menelaus and Alexander, but Venus
Saved Alexander from certain death.

Pallas Athena stood beside Diomedes, the hero,

Spoke to him and addressed him with winged words,
Be of good cheer now, Diomedes, to fight
With the Trojans, since I have laid thy bosom
Against their bosom, father of unbelief. Behold,
I have taken away from thine eyes the mist,
That was before, that thou mayest know the Godhead
And well discern mortal men. But
When a god comes here to judge thee severely,
Fight thou no further with the immortal gods,
Not with the rest of the gods, only with Cypris,
Only with Cypris, the daughter of God.
Pierce her with the sharp spears of bronze.
Thus said Athena with blue eyes, then she departed.

But Aeneas sprang with shield and longer spear

On the ground, to confront over the body
Of his fallen comrade, Diomedes, the Greek.
But Tydeus' son in his right hand caught
A stone, a huge thing, that two men
Could not lift it aloft, but he threw it
And struck Aeneas on the hip, the place,
Where the hip bone turns into the upper thigh,
At that place in the body which men call the socket,
So shattering the socket. The tendons were torn
In both his legs, and the stone tore the skin,
So that the fighter, falling on one knee, with heavier hands.
Leaning on the ground, night was before his eyes.
Here in this place Aneas, the champion of men,
Might have perished, had not his father's daughter
Aphrodite, his mother, had not recognised Aeneas,
Who bore him to Anchises, the cattle-herder,
Over her beloved son now streamed the white
Arms, with her white robe, thrown in folds,
She shielded her son from the weapons of the enemy,
Lest some swift Danaan throw his bronze spear
Through his breast and tear from him earthly life.
Charis now carried her beloved son away from the battles.
Diomedes wielded the merciless bronze
Against Aphrodite, he knew she was a goddess
Without the power of war, not of those goddesses which
Join the ranks of men in battles and wars,
Maiden Athena or Enyo, who plunder the cities.
Now, following her through the dense crowd, he seized
Her who had long lamented against the offspring of Tydeus,
He thrust now against the soft hands
With the bronze spear, the spear now rent her skin
Through the immortal robe, which the very Charites
Had woven over the palm, immortal blood flowed
From the goddess, Ichor, that flows in the veins of the gods,
For since they eat not, neither do they drink of the red wine,
Have no blood for it, and are called immortal gods.
She let out a cry, and let fall the darling of Aeneas,
Whom she carried, but Phoebus Apollo
Caught him with his own hands in the mist,
Fearing, no doubt, that a swift Danaean might pierce his spear
Bore through his bosom and rob the fleeing life.
But Diomedes with great war-cry cried after her,
Only yield, thou daughter of the eternal father Cronion,
And desist from the battles and terror of war!
Is it not enough that you lead misleading women in war?
But if you still want to pursue the battle game,
I think you will tremble when you hear of the battles.
So he spoke. The goddess went back in pain,
And Iris, with the windy feet, took her by the hand
And led her away from the battlefield on earth,
Her beautiful white skin was darkened with blood,
She was wounded and suffering. But on the left of the battle
She found Ares sitting, his spear bent in the mist
And the swift horses. When in supplication
Before the brother fell on one knee, then she begged the brother,
Aphrodite the Ares, for his bred horses,
Much-loved brother, save me! Give me the horses,
That I may come with them to high Olympos,
Where the immortals dwell in the celestial castles.
Alas, I am too much from the wound of the deadly spear-throw
Wickedly struck by Tydeus' son, he would even fight with
Zeus' father! So she said. And Ares the brother
Gave her the horses he had bred. And still grieved
In the inmost heart, she mounted the chariot,
Beside her, Iris held the reins and whipped the racers.
Now when they came to pure Olympos, the place
Of the immortals, now hurried Iris
With the wind-feet her horses and slipped from the yoke
And threw immortal fodder before the bred horses.
Now the white Aphrodite fell before her mother
On her knees, Dione, the daughter, folding her hands,
Was addressed by her mother with tender words,
Who of the high Uranids, O daughter of the Father,
Hath done this to thee, as if thou hadst wrought evil?
Aphrodite, the laughter-loving goddess, the sweet,
Spoke and answered her mother, Diomedes,
Son of Tydeus, the proud, didst make me, when I had borne
From the war carried, Aeneas, the offspring of the goddess,
Who more than all men loves me with all his heart.
Now it is no longer only the war of the Achaeans and the Trojans,
But the Danaans fight against immortal gods!
Then Dione, most beautiful of all the goddesses, answered,
Have patience, my child, bear your suffering patiently,
Even if you are sad. For many on Olympos
Tolerate the suffering of men who inflict pain on us!
It was the virgin Athena with the grey-blue eyes,
Who drove the lad against thee. The wretched fool,
This son of Tydeus, knows not how mortal men
Do not live long, who fight with heavenly gods,
His boys sit not on their father's bosom,
When he comes home from the fierce war.
Therefore, though he be strong, the offspring of Tydeus
Should see to it that another fights with him in the war,
That not Aegiaea, the wise child of Adrastos,
Mourns for him, his beloved housewife and friend,
To her lord by marriage bound, the strong spouse
Of this Diomedes, that breeder of horses.
So she spake, and with both hands strok'd the ichor
From the arm, so that the arm healed again
And the strong pains were soothed again.
But Hera and Athena, looking to her,
Wanted to anger Zeus Cronion with their mocking words,
And the goddess Athena, the virgin with grey-blue eyes,
She began the conversation, O Zeus, our heavenly father,
Wouldst thou be angry if I told thee a few things?
It must be Cypris, moving the wife of the Achaeans,
To go hopelessly to her beloved Trojans,
To take hold of the beautiful dresses of Achaean women,
To carve her tender hand on the golden spear.
So she spoke, and the father of gods and men
Smiled kindly on her and said to golden Cypris,
No, my daughter, not for thee are the works of warfare!
You alone occupy yourself with holy matrimony,
Leave the war to Athena and Ares.

Phoebus Apollo, who saved Aeneas from the battle,

When Aphrodite had failed, now spoke to Ares,
Ares, Ares, negligent, bloodstained, striker of walls,
Is there no way then to make this fighting fellow
Diomedes, son of Tydeus, from the city,
He that would most gladly fight with his father in heaven?
Just now he pierced the hand at Our Lady's joint,
Our Lady of Cyprus, the golden Cypris,
And, as if he were more than man, he contends with Phoebus!

Diomedes, when his hour of destiny came,

He wounded Cypris, who helped Aeneas.

And the bovine-eyed queen of heaven Hera

Knew not how to move the mind of King Zeus,
That he might come to the aid of the harassed, mad Greeks.
In her mind this seemed the best counsel, that she might
Gather in loveliness, hasten down to Ida,
For perchance she might enchant him with amorousness,
If he were to sit beside her, she in the skin dress, the white one,
And she would then be able to pour a sleep
On his eyelids, the warming slumber,
To seal his cunning perception thus with sleep.
Now, with body all clothed in sweetness,
She went out of the chamber and called Cythere aside,
That she from the rest of the gods might quietly depart,
And she spoke a word to her, Cypris, wilt thou help me,
Darling, if I were to ask you? Will you refuse?
Are you still angry with me for helping the Danaans,
While you help the Trojans, O goddess of love?
She was answered by Aphrodite, daughter of God the Father,
Hera, revered goddess, daughter of mighty Cronos,
Speak only what I can do, what is in your thoughts.
For my heart urges me, if I can, to help you in any way,
If it be a thing that may be accomplished.
Then answered the lady Hera with cunning intent,
Give me the loveliness and the wishes, the gifts of the graces,
Oh, with which you enchant men and gods!
I will go to the end of the earth, the ocean‘s shore,
Where the gods rise, to Tethys, the mother,
Who welcomes me kindly into her own abode.
I will go to visit her, to resolve the discord,
For lovers long parted from each other,
Are parted from the bed of love, since rancour hath come
Into their feelings. I want to talk to the heart in them,
To bring them back to the bed of love,
That they may melt in love, in lust,
And then I will always be honoured and loved by them.
Then spoke Aphrodite, the laughter-loving goddess,
Hera, I cannot and must not deny this thing,
Which thou desirest, thou that liest in the arms of Cronion,
Since he is our king, the almighty father.
So she spoke, unleashing from her divine breasts
Her artful girdle, on which are the lovers' lists
And the loveliness and the passion of sex
And the whispered tenderness that robs the heart of thought.
And she put the girdle in Hera's holy hands,
Call her by name and say, Take this girdle, O Hera,
And hide it in the cleft of your snow-white bosom!
It is elaborately crafted, and every thing
Of eternal pleasures of love is contained in the girdle.
What thy heart desires shall not go unfulfilled.
So she said. The bovine-eyed Queen Hera
Laughed at her and hid the girdle in her snow-white bosom.
So Aphrodite went back to the dwelling, Zeus' daughter,
While Hera, in a flash, left the horn of Olympos.

Zeus said to the gods, All of you, go down now,

Go to the Achaeans and go also to the Trojans,
Helping both sides as joy bids you.
Thus spake Zeus Cronion, and awoke the everlasting battles,
And the gods went down to join the fray:
Ares with the shining helmet went to the Trojans,
With him Phoebus Apollo with unshorn hair
And the mistress of arrows, Artemis, virgin goddess,
Leto and the river god Xanthus went down,
Aphrodite went, the laughter-loving goddess.

Upon the gods descended the weary burden

Of terrible hate, the wind of their fury blew, dividing them,
And they crashed with a great crash,
And the broad earth echoed, the vast sky
Sounded as with trumpets. The heart of Zeus, where he was enthroned
On Olympos, rejoiced in his inmost bosom
Of pleasure as he watched the collisions of the gods
In the clash, and afterwards they stood,
They were not long apart, for Ares began thus
And rose against Athena, Ares with his long
Spear was about to stab her, but Athena
With her hand threw a being, and struck the neck of Ares.
And he spread himself in his fall over seven
Acres, and his hairs so-called dust in the hair,
His armour clashed, but Pallas Athena
Laughed at him and averted the glare of her gaze.
But taking Ares by the hand, the father's daughter
Aphrodite, and led him away, who groaned evermore,
His strength hardly gathered. But the goddess
Hera with the white arms noticed this misfortune,
So to Athena she spoke the winged words,
What a shame, Atrytone, daughter of father
Zeus with the Aegis! Here, too, this dog-like fly leads
From battle and confusion the mortal Ares.
Quick, go after her! - Athena chased with joyful heart
Cypris and drove a stream on her mighty breasts,
That the knees softened and the heart in the bosom.
Both lay on the generously giving earth.
But Athena stood over them and spoke this word of triumph,
So may all who helped the Trojans,
May in such cases as these, when they wrestled
With the Argives in their armour, Be as full of misfortune as you!
Now Aphrodite came in arms to the warmonger Ares:
Faced with wrath. So after our battles
We had long since rested, having stormed Ilion. -
Spake she, and the goddess of white arms smiled, Hera.

But the dogs of the Greeks no longer occupied themselves

With the body of Hector, for Aphrodite, daughter of God,
Aphrodite, the daughter of God, drove the dogs day and night
And anointed him with rosy immortal oil,
So Achileus, who dragged him in the dust before the walls,
Might not have torn him asunder. And Apollo protected
Him from the rotting heat of scorching sun.

Wonder of beauty was the Amazon Penthesilea

Even in her death, after she slew Achilles,
She was gloriously crowned by Aphrodite,
Bride of Ares, the strong god of war, to the end,
That Achilles, son of noble Peleus, was pierced
With the sharp burning arrow of penitent love!
All the warriors stared and prayed deep in heart,
That she sweet and fair as their own wives
On love's bed lay, home won.
Yea, and Achilles' heart wrestled with love's remorse,
To have killed such a sweet thing as he had a bride,
To his valiant Phtia he would have trusted her,
For she was spotless, a good daughter of the gods,
Penthesilea, divinely tall and of divine beauty!

But against Aeneas not the son of Achilles

Neoptolemus lifted the spear of the angry father,
But elsewhere he turned the fury of his heart,
For out of reverence for Aphrodite
Splendour turned away from the man, the fury of her grandson,
And she turned the grandson's strength on other enemies.

Then, however, the Argive prevailed with the strict

Of Pallas Athena, for she came into the inner
Heart of the battle, to destroy the Trojan forces, which were
Fighting under the leadership of Aeneas,
Hot to help the Greeks destroy the glorious Troy.
Then Aphrodite, who had been
By the murder of Paris wounded in her heart,
Suddenly snatched the famous Aeneas from the fray
And poured thick mist over him. But fate
Strictly forbade the hero to fight with the enemy,
To contend with the foe. Yes, and the mother
Was greatly afraid of the wrath of Pallas Athena,
Who wished to help the Danaans, feared that she might kill
Him whom Ares had not spared, but Pallas Athena
Was even more powerful than the god of war.
Even more Trojans remained on the brink of battle,
But all discouraged backsliders escaped.
For like wild raven-black beasts of prey
The Argives sprang up, maddened by mortal war-rage.

But Poias' war-triumphant son Philoctetes

Noticed where Aeneas in lion-like strength
Along the wall charged, and shot a shaft,
Which was aimed at this glorious hero,
And missed not the man, nor his flesh the fair,
Which he overcame, and was by the golden goddess
Aphrodite, and the shield fell in the grass, he grazed in the dust.

And Anchises' gallant son Aeneas now left

Troy, when the Greeks defeated the ancient Trojans,
Left the city to the enemy. His father Anchises
And his son alone he snatched, free from death,
But the old man broke down with the years,
That the son with the strong hands lifted him on his shoulders
And led the little boy with tender hands,
Whose steps so lightly touched the dusty ground,
And he trembled, seeing the work of death,
Led him through the roar of battle, to him the lad clung,
Tearing his soft cheeks that streamed with tears.
But the man leaped over many a recumbent body,
With his feet he trampled on many in the midst of darkness.
Aphrodite led them earnestly, the son of the gods, father,
Boy, from the wild doom to save them.
As he urged, everywhere before him the flames gave way,
And the blast of the fiery god's breath
Right and left was split. And the spears and lances
Fell, which the Achaeans threw harmlessly against him.
That they stayed, cried Calchas now, the Greek seer,
Hold against Aeneas noble head with the arrows,
Shoot the bitter arrows, throw the bitter spears!
It is his fate by the decree of the heavenly gods,
That he shall go forth from Xanthos, through the waves of the Tiber,
To found a holy glorious city forever,
To rule over the tribes of far-flung men.
For from his seed come the lords of the earth,
Ruling from the rising in the east to the setting in the west.
Yea, with the immortals he shall dwell for ever,
Aphrodite's son, who is fair to man.
Of him too it is to be known, we hold our hands,
That he hath preferred father and son to gold,
To all things that can be of use to earthly men,
He who fled to a foreign land preferred.
This night has revealed to us the offspring of the goddess,
Who has been true to his father and his boy.
This the Greeks heard, and looked upon Aeneas as a god.
Onward he hastened from the city, whither his feet
Should carry him, while the enemy ravaged Troy.

About Creusa, the daughter of King Priam of Troy,

The story is told that the Great Mother of the Gods
And the holy Aphrodite rescued the girl
From slavery among the Greeks, since she was of course
Aeneas' dear wife, the goddess' favourite.

But fate would not let the hopes of Troy

With the city walls would only become ruins,
But the hero Aeneas, he who was Venus' favourite,
Carried on his shoulders her sacred images
And full of reverence also the venerable father.

Menelaus in the inner centre of the chambers of Troy

At last found his wife cowering fearfully
There before the fearless wrath of her lord and husband,
And he stared at her, and hungered hotly in his soul,
To kill her in his jealous rage.
But winning Aphrodite subdued him,
Flay'd him the sword from her hand, that his onslaught failed him,
A dark cloud swept jealousy from him,
Stirred the sweet deep springs of love in his heart
And in the eyes, swept over him strange wonder,
Powerless was he to lift the shear against Beauty,
Yet he saw her splendour of beauty, her grace of loveliness.
So he stood and remained so for a long time, dazed.
His strength was broken when he looked at his wife.
Suddenly he had forgotten everything, all her sins
Against the sacred marriage, Aphrodite made everything
Faded in him, she who subdues the immortal hearts
And mortals subdue. And yet his sword he lifted,
But with other intent, though he leapt up in anger,
As if to deceive the eyes of the Achaean people.
Then his brother remained his rage, his raging fury.

Beautiful, like Aphrodite in form and rosy

Passed Helen by the captives of Troy,
On to the Argive ships. But the people
All around marvelled at the great glorious beauty
Of this utterly lawless woman. No man there dared
Secretly or openly to accuse her, but
All stared at the goddess with adoration, wistfulness.
As the wanderer wanders on the stormy sea,
Who after long time and passionate prayer
Sees the fatherland, and escapes from deadly depths,
He stretches out his hands to the fatherland full of joy,
So the Danaans rejoiced and no man among them
Remembered all the horrors of war.
Such thoughts Aphrodite stirred in them,
Pure of grace to Helen with eyes like stars.
While the Greeks drunkenly celebrated the fall of Troy,
Menelaus in his tent spoke kindly to his Helen,
For on her eyes sleep had not yet fallen.
Aphrodite brooded over the loving souls,
This old love might yet be renewed
And the heartache chased away. And Helen threw her arms
Around her husband's neck, her eyes streaming with tears,
As they moaned sweetly and side by side
They lay down and their hearts stirred within
The memory of ancient eternal joys.
As a vine and ivy their tendrils entwine,
That no wind with strength can tear them asunder,
So the two in passionate love's embrace!