This happened, as the old sorcerers say, at the dawn of the world in one primitive tribe, in the middle of the year, when the bisexual deity of the Moon was in male form. And the Moon only pretended to go beyond the horizon, but in fact took refuge among the mountains and united there with the happy girls whom he chose as his wives on earth.
The old people said that the inexplicable charm of these wedding nights can only be imagined, and human language is not able to describe them.
Wonderful dreams of a divine spouse bewitched the fair-skinned, golden-haired beauty Naya, the daughter of a venerable tribal leader. When night fell and sleep enveloped the village, and the loving deity bent low to the ground and seemed to touch distant mountain peaks, the distraught Naya climbed the hills, yearning for the desire to surrender to the sparkling, luminous caresses that the elders told about.
They said that the kisses of the bisexual deity transformed the bodies of chosen virgins into light, the scarlet color of the girl’s blood turned pale from his touch, and the fresh pink flesh melted. And the deity hid, carrying away the happy lovers in voluptuous embraces, and then left his brides, already deprived of their mortal shell, on the wedding bed of high clouds.
This is how stars were born.
Naya passionately dreamed of getting rid of coarse earthly flesh for the sake of eternal divine existence in heaven.
At night she ran after the moonbeam, but was always deceived: as soon as she climbed one peak, her light-footed lover was already bending over the next one, and each time he seemed to her more captivating than before, but invariably eluded her painful passion.
Naya withered away in anguish and agony. The page witches tried to cure the girl, skillfully prepared unknown love drinks for her, and charmed the illness. But nothing helped. Nothing could cure the disease of love. Naya lived only in the hope that the Moon would respond to her prayers, to her passion.
The crazy girl spent all nights among the hills, now stretched out on the moonlit slopes, now climbing up, now sometimes falling off the slope, and laughing, and sobbing, and sometimes singing something in delirium.
One day, when madness completely clouded her mind, Naya saw the sparkling image of the husband of her dreams in the serenely calm mirror of a mountain lake. Drawn by love and madness, deceived by the reflection of her ever-eluding lover, she threw herself into the lake, stretching out her arms in anguish to finally embrace her desired one.
For many days afterwards, the people of her tribe fruitlessly searched for the missing Naya in the dark forests.
But in those days the gods were kind and merciful. And therefore, the Moon, which gave birth to rivers, fish and aquatic plants, wanted to reward the girl for her terrible sacrifice. No, the bisexual deity did not ascend her to heaven, but turned her into a “star of the waters,” transforming the lily of her soul into a royal flower, a wondrous solemn song of beauty and aroma.
From the snow-white, exhausted body of the unfortunate Indian woman, a mysterious plant emerged; the boundless purity of a loving soul blossomed into a huge fragrant flower, and the pain that tormented the poor girl became thorns guarding it. The generous creator enlarged the leaves of the giant water lily as much as possible so that she could more fully feel the caresses of the moonlight and the gentle touches of her lover.
At night, Naya opens a light outfit of long petals and receives the opal kisses of moonlight on the wedding bed of motionless waters. Thus Victoria Regia was born.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru