Notes
(daughter of Peneus)
Having barely finished the prayer, a heavy numbness seizes her limbs,
her soft breasts are girded by thin bark,
her hair grows into foliage, her arms into branches,
her foot, just now so swift, clings by sluggish roots,
her face has the top of a tree: a single splendor remains in her.
The god said to her, since you can't be my bride, at least
you will certainly be my tree!
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