Narcissus

[hedgehog101]

In mythology, Narcissus was a vain man with extraordinary beauty. He was constantly pursued by admirers, most notably Echo and Ameinius, although Narcissus rejects them all. He comes to his end when he sees his reflection in a clear pool, and thinking it to be another person, falls in love with his own reflection. Even after he realizes it is only himself that he sees, he is unable to leave the pool, being so drawn to his own beauty, and he eventually falls into ruin as he neglects his own health in favor of pursuing his obsession. Eventually, he turns into a daffodil, as the beautiful flower often grows near water, and droops down a bit as if gazing at itself.

There was a pool whose waters, silverlike, were gleaming, bright.
It's here that Narcissus lies.
He is stricken by the sight he sees—the image in the pool.
He dreams upon a love that's bodiless: he gazes in dismay at his own self; he cannot turn away his eyes.
Unwittingly, he wants himself.
He praises, but his praise is for himself;
he is the seeker and the sought,
the longed-for and the one who longs;
he is the arsonist—and is the scorched.

How many futile kisses did he waste on the deceptive pool!
He knows not what he sees, but what he sees invites him.
Even as the pool deceives his eyes, it tempts them with delights.
But why,o foolish boy, do you persist? He does not exist—the one you love and long for. The face that you discern is but a shadow, your reflected form.
But nothing can detach him from that place:
It is through his own eyes that he will die.

He lifts himself a little, then he cries—
"0 woods, I do delight in him;
I see him—yet, although I see and do delight in him, I cannot find him (love confounds me so!).
And there's another reason for my sorrow:
we are kept apart by nothing but the thinnest stretch of water.
He is keen to be embraced; my lips reach down: and just as often he, with upturned face, would offer me his mouth.

Come now, whoever you may be!
When I would seek you out, where do you go?
Your gaze is fond and promising; I stretch my arms to you, and you reach back in turn.
I smile and you smile, too.
And, often, I've seen tears upon your face just when I've wept,
and when I signal to you, you reply;
and I can see the movement of your lovely lips—returning words that cannot reach my ears.


Yes, yes, I'm he! I've seen through that deceit:
my image cannot trick me anymore.

I burn with love for my own self: it's I who light the flames—the flames that scorch me then.
If I could just be split from my own body!"
Such were his words.

Then he returns, obsessed, to contemplate the image he had left:
his tears disturb the water; as he weeps, they fall upon the surface.
What he seeks is darker, dimmer now—as if to flee.
"Where do you go?" he cries.
Do not retreat; stay here—do not inflict such cruelty.
Let me still gaze at one I cannot touch; let sight provide the food for my sad love."

Just so was he undone by love: its hidden flame consumes Narcissus: now he wastes away.

He set his tired head to rest on the green grass.
And then dark death shut fast the eyes that had been captured by the beauty of their master.
Even when the world below became his home, he still would stare at his own image in the pool of Styx.
His Naiad sisters had prepared the pyre, the bier, the torches;
but nowhere could they find Narcissus' body:
where it had been, they found instead a flower, its yellow center circled by white petals.