{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/sob/sob072.htm","path":"cla/sob/sob072.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/sob/sob072.htm","text":"Panting, I took her hand and pressed it tightly beneath the humid skin of my left breast. My head tossed here and there and I moved my lips, but not a word escaped.\nMy maddened heart, sudden and hard, beat and beat upon my breast, as a captive satyr would beat about, tied in a goat-skin vessel. She said to me: \"Your heart is troubling you. . .\"\n\"Oh, Mnasidika!\" I answered her, \"a woman's heart is not seated there. This is but a little bird, a dove which stirs its feeble wings. The heart of a woman is more terrible.\n\"It burns like a myrtle-berry, with a bright red flame and beneath abundant foam. 'Tis there that I feel bitten by voracious Aphrodite.\"","title":"The Songs of Bilitis: II. Elegies At Mytilene: The Heart","type":"page"}