Narcissus and Echo

A little Greek today.

There is a reason why our storytelling, our cultural heritage goes through the Greek world. Every pre-written-word culture had stories that were used to share their histories, to let children know their proper place in society, to coach their women and men on duties and customs. The Greek raised all of these oral histories... these cultural pass-downs, to highest effect. They spoke (as Shakespeare does) to the basic human condition. They went beyond simply being cultural stories about Greeks, and became how we all relate cross culture, too. 

So here is the story of Narcissus and Echo. This is from a translation by Ted Hughes, who admittedly took very, and I mean very, liberal translation duties. It is, however, poetic, and wonderful.

Echo was a beautiful nymph, who had been badgering Hera; Hera reduced Echo to an entity that could only speak when spoken to, and could only repeat whatever she had heard last.

Narcissus was a vain man, who was fated to fall in love with his own reflection, until all that was left of him was the flower that bears his name; Nemesis, being the God of vengeance, having gotten angry of Narcissus spurn of Echo's true love and devotion.

Narcissus and Echo

Narcissus had stayed apart from his companions, and called out to them, “Where are you? I am here!” and Echo clung to those words as if they were precious, and called back, “I am here.. I am here.. I am here…”

Narcissus looked around wildly, and shouted, “I will stay here, you come to me!” And Echo shouted, “…come to me… to me… to me”

Narcissus stood baffled,  whether to go or stay. He began to run, calling as he ran, “Stay there! Stay there!” But Echo called back, weeping to utter it, “Stay there… stay there… stay there.”

Narcissus stopped and listened, and then more quietly, he spoke “Let’s meet half way. Come.” and Echo eagerly repeated it “Come…. come…. come.”

But when she emerged from the undergrowth, her expression pleading, her arms raised to embrace him, Narcissus turned and ran, and he replied “No, I would sooner be dead than have you touch me.”

Echo collapsed in sobs as her voice called out to the mountains “…touch me… touch me… touch me.”

Vanity.... Beauty.... Passion.... Misunderstanding. The human condition knows all of these.