Iara is said to lie on the white sandy bottom of the river and play with the Matupiris fish, which swim over her body, half hidden by the stream running towards the flooded Igapo forests.
Iara is a beautiful Indian woman, she sings under the shade of palm trees while combing her black hair, as searing black as her big wonderful eyes.
Her forehead is crowned with a garland of purple flowers, and her thin scarlet lips smile so seductively and alluringly. Iara sings and the forest echo echoes her song.
When night falls, the voice of the Mother of Waters rings and flows over the gigantic river.
The last ray of sun goes out. Scarlet roses and golden jasmine buds are blooming and reaching for the sky. And Iara sings and sings. And the Indian youth is afraid to go up to the sources of the river. He trembles, shocked by Iara’s singing, and runs so as not to hear her voice, and whispers:
- Oh, Iara!... She is beautiful... but she brings death!
One day a school of fish carried the young man far from home and night found him on the lake...
It was so huge, many river tributaries flowed into it, and the young man tried to keep his boat on the water, either leaning on the oars with a firm hand, or pushing off from the shore so as not to bump into a sunken tree; So he sailed past coastal thickets, palm groves, and flooded forests.
But suddenly he heard a song and saw Iara’s head rising from the water. Her smile, look and beauty blinded the young man. The oars slipped from his hands, and he forgot everything: his home and family, he became numb and deaf, hearing only the beating of his own heart; The fisherman forgot, and his canoe floated downstream. When the young man woke up, a fresh wind from the vast expanses of the Amazon was blowing into his face.
And the next day he woke up late and immediately realized that all the joys of life for him had turned into sadness; It was torment for him to be under his own roof, the worries of his loved ones burdened him, and only the river attracted him. The deserted regions at its sources attracted the young man.
- Iara bewitched him! - people said. Every morning, as soon as the sun rose above the horizon, and the birds in the groves greeted him in a friendly chorus, a light canoe under a dark sail, stained with palm sap, was already gliding along the river, and the tapuyo youth longed to hear the evening song of the arancua bird.
One day, to pass the time, he decided to hunt sea turtles. But the arrows fell out of his hands and the bow sank.
Time passed, and he, immersed in thought, floated with the flow, surrendering to the will of the waves.
The herons have already returned to their nests and the nests have turned white from many birds, but the arancua has not yet begun to sing. The young man felt his sadness leaving and his joy returning: the sun was setting behind the trees, the banks of the Amazon were plunging into darkness, the hour of Iara was approaching!
Having woken up, the lover began to row slowly. Peering out from the reed thickets, a capivara rodent frightened him, a snipe flew up from a floating island, a fish splashed in the river - and the young man’s heart sank in painful hope.
In the forest, among the unsteady, deceptive shadows, a passionate, enchanting song was suddenly heard. It was Iara who complained about the coldness of the young man. And the oars fell out of his hands, and he has no strength to take his eyes off the beautiful Iara, today she is more beautiful than ever. His heart is breaking out of his chest, but his mother’s words come to mind:
- Son, don’t let Jaara bewitch you! Run away from her, because her embrace is fatal.
Arancua no longer sings. From the forest only the sharp laughter of the night bird Urutau can be heard.
The night has already come into its own. Darkness enveloped the shores, and the young man returned home sadder than usual, torn between the desire of his heart and the instructions of his mother.
So days after days go by. The Indian gave up fishing long ago, he avoids friends and relatives.
And then one day people saw his empty boat floating along the river. From then on, the fisherman never went out to fish: Iara enticed and bewitched him.
They say that a few days later they found the body of a young man on a reed island, his lips still bleeding from Iara’s kisses.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru