Honestly I wish I were dead.
When she left me she wept
profusely and told me,
“Oh how we’ve suffered in all this.
Psapfo, I swear I go unwillingly.”
And I answered her,
“Be happy, go and remember me,
you know how we worshiped you.
But if not, I want
to remind you
of beautiful days we shared,
how you took wreaths of violets,
roses and crocuses,
and at my side
tied them in garlands
made of flowers
round your tender throat,
and with sweet myrrh oil
worthy of a queen
you anointed your limbs
and on a soft bed
gently you would satisfy
your longing
and how there was no
holy shrine
where we were absent,
no grove
no dance
no sound”