Mūsae et Cicādae

Among the Greek mountains lay a valley, lovely with varied flowers and exceptionally fertile in every way.

Cold streams leapt down from the mountains and flowed through green fields.

Many flocks and many herds of horses and cattle wandered through the fields and hills.

The valley was surrounded on all sides by green mountains; no travelers entered it, either in winter, when the mountains are covered with white snow, or in spring, when the shrill swallow builds its nest beneath the beams.

So the inhabitants knew nothing about the outside world, but lived well and happily, undisturbed by anxious cares.

Long ago the Muses descended from heaven into the valley to its inhabitants.

There are nine Muses, goddesses of poets and of songs.

All the peoples of mankind, but especially poets, are protected and taught by the Muses.

As soon as the Muses descended into the valley, they sang wondrous and divine songs.

The voices of the Muses are clear and ringing, and nowhere in all the world is there a sweeter sound than the goddesses’ song; birds do not sing so sweetly in the treetops when they soothe the air with their songs in spring.

The inhabitants were delighted by the wonderful sound.

For a long time the Muses sang; for a long time the inhabitants stood spellbound, forgetful of everything else; they took no time either for food or for rest.

For many days and nights the goddesses sang, both in the morning, when Dawn leaves Tithonus’ saffron-colored bed, and in the evening, when the Evening Star brings the stars back into the sky.

Thus the inhabitants, forgetting dinner and lunch alike, kept listening to the wondrous sound.

And so, through their love of the divine songs, they grew weaker day by day.

At last the Muses noticed that the inhabitants had become terribly thin, and, filled with compassion, transformed them into green cicadas.

So the cicadas, still mindful of the divine songs even now, sing all day long.