today

i spent the day here:

this i sang, and lykidas laughed
again pleasantly, and gave me his stick
in fellowship of the muses,
and turned left, taking the road
to pyxa, but eukritos
and handsome amyntas and i
turned off at phrasidamos's
and happily laid ourselves down
on beds of sweet grass and vine-leaves,
freshly picked. overhead, many elms
and poplars rustled, and nearby
the sacred waters splashed down
from the nymphs' cave. brown cicadas
shrilled from the shady branches,
and far off the tree-frog whined
in the heavy underbrush.
larks and finches sang, doves crooned,
and bees hummed about the spring.
everything smelled of rich summer
and rich fruits. pears lay at our feet,
apples in plenty rolled beside us,
and branches loaded down with plums
bent to the ground.

and here:

my head's aching, but you
don't care. i'll sing no more,
but lie here where i've fallen
and let the wolves eat me.
and may that be as sweet to you
as honey down your throat.

and here:

and soon, in a hollow,
he spied a spring where thick rushes,
and dark celandine, and green
maidenhair, and sweet parsley,
and creeping deergrass grew.

and here:

come to me, then, and you'll lack
nothing. leave the gray sea
to beat against the shore. you'll pass
the night more pleasantly with me
in my cave. there are baytrees
and slim cypresses nearby,
and dark ivy, and sweet grapes
in bunches, and cold water
that tree-covered aitna sends
trickling down to me from her snows--
a drink for gods. who, before these,
would choose the sea and the waves?
but if it's my rough looks
that put you off, i've oak-logs
and banked fires, under the ashes,
and i'd let you burn my soul out,
or my one eye, most dear to me
of all things that are mine.