Now you shall bring it to the house of your beloved And go as far as her portal. Her chamber will be open for you, And her housemaid will have prepared it. Provide her with songs and dances, Wine and strong beer in her pavilion. You will arouse her passions And fulfill them during this night. She will say to you, ‘‘Take me into your embrace.’’ And when the dawn comes, She will still be there. Now you shall bring it to the chamber of your beloved, Alone, no other with you, And you will accomplish your desire in her embrace. The curtains will flutter, And the sky will descend in a gale of wind. Hathor will bring you her fragrance, And its perfume will overwhelm and intoxicate All those who are present. It is the Golden Goddess Who destines her for you as a boon To let you fulfill the span of your life. How skilled is my beloved in throwing the snare, Although a breeder of cattle did not beget her. With her tresses she throws the snare at me, With her eyes she entraps me, With her necklace she binds me, And with her signet ring she brands me. Although you say within your heart, ‘‘After her! It is my lot to embrace her!’’ As Amun lives, I have come to you With my mantel on my shoulder. I found my lover at the canal With his feet standing in the river. He was setting up an offering table for the festival Marked by the drinking of beer. He brings a blush to my cheeks, For his height is in perfect proportion to his breadth. As for what my beloved has done to me, Shall I be silent about it? To make me stand at the door of her house While she went inside! She did not tell me, ‘‘You are welcome to come in,’’ And so she cheated me of my night. I passed by her house in the darkness, I knocked, but no one opened to me. Perhaps our doorkeeper was enjoying a good night’s sleep! Oh door bolt, I will open you! Oh lock, you are my fate, You are my guiding spirit, And our ox will be butchered for you inside. Oh lock, do not use your strength. An ox will be sacrificed to the door bolt A short-horned ox to the door pin, A fatted goose to the doorposts, And its fat to the key. All the choice parts of our ox Will be for the carpenter lad That he may make for us A door bolt of reeds and a lock of straw. Then any time when the lover comes, He will find her house open. He will find the bed laid out with fine linen And a beauteous maiden in it. And the maiden will say to me, ‘‘This lodging is for the son of the mayor of the city. - (From the papyrus Chester Beatty I and Written by the Scribe Nakht-Sobek)
Posted on: Fri, 02 Aug 2013 03:21:16 +0000