Legenda o Narcisu.../ The legend of Narcissus...

Svi znamo klasicnu verziju legende o prlepom Narcisu, ali verzija Oskara  Vajlda je mnogo bolja...

Legenda kaze da je nekada davno postojao mladic po imenu Narcis, koji je bio toliko lep da se svako ko bi ga pogledao istog trenutka u njega zaljubio. To se dogodilo i nimfi po imenu Eho, ali on nije obraćao paznju na nju, zbog cega je venula od tuge sve dok od nje nije ostao samo glas. Nemezis, boginja Osvete, bacila je cini na oholog Narcisa kome je od tada bilo suđeno da se zaljubi u svoj odraz na povrsini jezera, nad kojom je stajao opcinjen sopstvenom lepotom, sve do smrti, nakon koje su ga bogovi pretvorili u cvet.
Posle Narcisove smrti, dosle su Drijade – gorske vile – i videle da se jezero pretvorilo u vrc slanih suza. „Zasto places?” – pitale su ga. „Oplakujem Narcisa”, rece jezero. „Ah, ne cudi nas sto oplakujes Narcisa. Mi smo stalno po sumi trcale za njim, ali ti si jedino imalo prilike da izbliza posmatras njegovu lepotu.” „Narcis je bio lep?” – upita jezero iznenađeno. „Ko bi to mogao znati bolje od tebe? Na tvoje se obale svakog dana naslanjao”, odgovorise Drijade. Jezero je na trenutak zacutalo, a zatim reklo: „Oplakujem Narcisa, ne zbog njegove lepote, vec zato sto sam, svaki put kada bi legao na moje obale, mogao da vidim kako se u dubini njegovih ociju oslikava moja vlastita lepota.”


Version of Oscar Wilde:
The legend says that once upon a time there was a young man named Narcissus, who was so beautiful that anyone who would have looked into him immediately fell in love. It happened to a nymph named Echo, but he did not pay attention to it, becaus of that she vein of sadness. Nemesis, Goddess of Vengeance, threw the spell on the arrogant Narcissus which has since been destined to fall in love with his reflection on the surface of the lake, over which stood fascinated with their own beauty, to his death, after which the gods turned him into a flower. After the death of Narcissus, came Dryad - mountain fairies - and saw that the lake turned into a jug of salt tears. "Why are you crying?" - He was asked. "Mourn Narcissus," said Lake. "Ah, no wonder you mourn Narcissus. We are constantly in the woods running after him, but you only had a chance to closely watch his beauty. "Narcissus was beautiful?" - Lake said in surprise. "Who could know better than you? On your shores every day he was leaning, "answered Dryad. The lake was silent for a moment, then said: "I mourn for Narcissus , not for his beauty, but because I, every time he lay down on my coast, I could  see in the depth of his eyes reflected my own beauty."