Mythology

the possessive love of Venus for the beautiful Adonis
is causing his death



BEGINNING OF THE TALE


Conceived by his grandfather The child was given birth through the belly of her syster Son of Mirrha and of king Cinyras He was, to hide the crime of his incestuous mother, Abandonned in his body metamorphosed Into a tree secreting the myrrh In the thick forests of the country of Cypre Helped by Lucine, the child emerges from behind the bark, He bears the name of Adonis, And his beauty has no equivalent Among the males mortals and the Gods. Now that he is a young man and pubescent, Wanting to draw revenge from the incestuous desires That She arouse in Myrrha, her mother, He seduced Venus. The goddess did not live any more but for him Forsaking the shores of Cythere Forgetting the fertile grounds of Paphos, The rich country of Cnide and the Amathonte in peace; She gives away the whole Olympia, Her thoughts are nourished, from now on, By her only carnal desires for Adonis Venus the tempting and frivolous goddess Who only had, for leisures, To amuse herself in the greeny meadows, By taking great care of her ornament, Is not any more the same, She had made of Adonis, her lover. From now on, she wanders in the woods, the mountains and the rocks, Her dress rolled up to her thigh; One would believe to see Diana hunting, She excites the heat of her dogs And drives out the inoffensive animals, The hares, the deers, the birds, But she avoids the wild beasts, the wild boars, the wolves and the lions And she orders Adonis to fear them: " Be courageous with the game that flees, And be careful against that which confront you, becouse being confronted is dangerous. By pity my young lover, Avoid the temerity that would put my happiness in danger. Do not attack the animals to which nature gave weapons; I do not want to pay too much for the passion that you inspire me. Neither your youth, nor your beauty, Neither nothing of what touched the heart of Venus Touches the lions nor the wild boars, Neither the eyes nor the heart of the wild animals; The impetuous wild boars carry lightning in their bent defenses; The wild lions are rudes assailants And nothing resists to their anger. It is a race that I hate. " And Venus tired by her ceaseless huntings Attracts her beautiful lover And lay Herself naked on the ground, The grass is soft like is Her couch, The poplars are shading their bodies, She rests of all her weight, on the body of Adonis: " I want to rest myself in your company " Her head rested on the breast of Adonis, She speaks to him about anything, of her adventures And of her power over her mortal rivals, Punctuating her speeches with kisses And caresses which excite her senses. " I had one day advised Hippomene of Arcadia On the way of doing To overcome Atalante at racing, Another of these mortal virgins who hated love. Did I not deserved That he would be graceful to me and brought me the hommage of his beautiful body? Instead of that, the two lovers soiled my temple. " " One day that they where going through the forest Hippomene, having an insane need to make love, He lures Atalante into the temple Erect there in my honor by the famous Echion. In front of the sacred images of the gods and goddess and their angry glance, They fornicated like animals Sullying thus, this sacred place With their saliva, with their gametes and their sperm, Instead of incense, of offering and of myrrh " " Happy They are both there, embraced after the act of Love I could have subject them to the torments of the Hades, But instead of that, Their necks, smooth before that, Covers itmselves with wild animal mane Their fingers still weld to their flesh, bend into sharp-edged claws, Their intertwined members transform itselves like hairy legs On which the weight of their entire body rest from now on, From their buttocks, spread out a long tail that sweeps the ground, Their face hardens, their mouths thickens, they perspire anger, Forgetting the soft words, They expressed like thunder rumbles. Avoiding the places where the human sheltered, They, from now, inhabit the forests; From lovers they were, beautiful and peaceful, They now became, him a lion and her a lioness Objets of terror, They tighten their teeth, the bit that I forced on to them To avenge myself of their indifference towards me, goddess of Cybele. " Venus spoke like that before leaving Adonis To return in her lands of Cypre: " Oh my lover, Avoids them like you must avoid the wild beasts That haunt the forest and which does not flee when you meet them But offer their breast to your bravery; So that this confrontation is not disastrous for both of us, Because you are dear to me and I do not want to lose you. " But the maternal advises of Venus Have no weight to tenderize the virile audacity of Adonis, His dogs drive out a lion from its cave, An arrow fly away from the arc of the son of Cinyras And wound the animal on the side. The lion in rage pursue the hunter Who seeks to hide, it charges him and drives in his flesh, Its mortal hooks and the hunter collapse on the wild animal. Venus recognizes from up there the moanings of Adonis And she sees his body without consciousness Agitated and bathing in his blood mixed with that of the wild animal She jumps off her celestial chariot Tears her dress and naked her chest Which she hammers of violent blows Her lamentations are heard She implores the destiny: " Oh Persephone, So that there remains always a memory of my pain As you allowed that where transformed, once, The members of Myrrha his mother, into a tree of mint perfume Which engendered the loving body of my dear Adonis, Do not refuse me the right To metamorphose the hero, son of Cinyras; Do that his blood, be changed into a beautiful fruit, And that this fruit bloomed year after year For the renewed representation of his death Perpetuating thus, the memory of my divine orgasms! " Then the goddess of Love sprinkles with her oospheres The coagulated blood of Adonis and thus transforms it Into a fruit which has the color of this blood And which, each year on this same day Ecstasies and stiffens itself, increases in size and inflates from blood, Then it secretes its sperm as a pollen , And thus fertilizes the half-opened vulva of the goddess of Love, Who throne in Her temple on a pretty polished marble base.



Marco Polo or the imaginary journey (Mythologies, translated august 2000) © 1999 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
Ovide, the metamorphosis, and the paintings of the great-masters, music by Yokubota.


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