from afar he turns me on
i am a shuddering tree
his hands all over me
leaves on my limbs

belonging and dying
i reach toward a second son
tight grips after gentle strokes
this beautiful(wood)(line)binding

he makes me
he makes me feel
he wakes me up
when i am a real woman


//

indeed this
(they were)(it was)i was(saying)
O beloved Critias
from afar to you(all)
(is) the beautiful(wood)(line)
(you)descend(s) from kinship with Solon

155α

τοῦτο μέν
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
ὦ φίλε Κριτία
πόρρωθεν ὑμῖν
τὸ καλὸν
ὑπάρχει ἀπὸ τῆς Σόλωνος συγγενείας