Her singing eyes and fingers - Lena (Reflecting on my animas - III)

In this episode, I turn to my adolescent past to investigate my early amores while also examining the influence of a certain girl. Lena captured my heart in a time I was on the cusp of branching out, gaining confidence with myself. Our flirtations were seemingly innocent and playful, only for her to steadily cause me frustration and eventually, her wiles from her 'singing eyes and fingers' would lead to a bitter betrayal and humiliation. For me, the damages, while hurtful, I cast them off, judging them to be superficial at the time. Yet, they would leave a lasting effect in future friendships and relationships.

I tell you, there is no venomous serpent in all the sands of Libya as avid of human blood as this deceiver, who is a veritable Siren not only in the sweetness of her voice and her honeyed words but also in her eyes, her smiles, her looks and in all her ways.
— Baldesar Castiglione (1478-1529), The Book of the Courtier

The Charmer, 1911, John William Waterhouse

The Siren, 1900, John William Waterhouse - Private Collection

Listen with care

to this, now, and a god will arm your mind.

Square in your ship’s path are Sirens, crying

beauty to bewitch men coasting by;

woe to the innocent who hears that sound!

He will not see his lady nor his children

in joy, crowding about him, home from sea;

the Sirens will sing his mind away

on their sweet meadow lolling. There are bones

of dead men rotting in a pile beside them

and flayed skins shrivel around the spot.

Steer wide;

keep well to seaward; plug your oarsmen’s ears

with beeswax kneaded soft; none of the rest

should hear that song.
But if you wish to listen,
let the men tie you in the lugger, hand

and foot, back to the mast, lashed to the mast,

so you may hear those harpies’ thrilling voices;

shout as you will, begging to be untied,

your crew must only twist more line around you

and keep their stroke up, till the singers fade.

What then? One of two courses you may take,

and you yourself must weigh them.

Homer, The Odyssey, Book XII (Trans. Robert Fitzgerald)

Die Sünde (Sin), Franz von Stück, 1893 - Private Collection

Christijan Robert Broerse