192
" At once he felt the scales
begin to grow out on his thickened skin,
and his dark body lighten up with patches
of irridescent blue; he fell upon his breast,
and his two legs were blended into one,
which, gradually lengthening, became
an elegant and sharply pointed tail.
His arms remained unchanged; he held them out,
and as the tears coursed down his cheeks (which were
still—for the moment—human), he exclaimed,
“Come closer to me, O most wretched wife,
and while there is still something left of me,
before I am entirely transformed
to serpent, touch me, take these hands in yours!”
He would have said much more, but suddenly
the tip of his tongue divided into two,
and words no longer would obey his wishes,
so that whenever he tried to complain
or grieve, he hissed, and could not manage more,
for he had been left with no other voice.
Now striking her bare breast, his wife cries out,
“Cadmus! Stay as you are! Put off these strange
shapes now possessing you, unfortunate man!
Cadmus, what’s happening? Where are your feet?
Your face? Complexion? Even as I speak,
where is the rest of you! Heavenly beings,
will you not also turn me to a snake?”
The creature’s tongue flicked lightly over her lips,
and he slipped in between her cherished breasts
as though he were familiar with the place,
embraced her, and slid right around her neck.
Those of his companions who were present
were horrified, but she just calmly stroked
the smooth, sleek neck of the crested dragon,
and at once there were two serpents intertwined,
who presently went crawling off and found
a hiding place within a nearby grove. "
― Ovid
198
" Eis os únicos barcos que temos para voltar a nossa pátria; eis nosso único meio de escapar de Minos. Ele, que fechou todas as outras saídas, não pode fechar o ar para nós; resta-nos o ar; fenda-o graças a minha invenção. Mas não é para a virgem de Tégia, nem para o companheiro de Boótes, que é preciso olhar, mas para Orião, armado com uma clava; é por mim que você deve orientar sua marcha com as asas que eu lhe darei; irei na frente para mostrar o caminho; preocupe-se somente em me seguir; guiado por mim você estará seguro, se através das camadas do éter, nós nos aproximarmos do sol, a cera não poderá suportar o calor; se, descendo, agitarmos as asas muito perto do mar, nossas plumas, batendo, serão molhadas pelas águas marinhas. Voe entre os dois. Preste atenção também nos ventos, meu filho; onde seu sopro o guiar, deixe-se levar em suas asas."
(Conselhos de Dédalo a Ícaro - em A Arte de Amar) "
― Ovid , The Art of Love
