Eros, the primeval son of Chaos hadn’t notice the Bee sleeping among his favorite roses, distracted by the appearance of a graceful nymph, her skin soft and scented as the roses’ velvet petals.
It was not the thorn of the rose but the sting of the awakened Bee that struck his little finger as he reached to brush the magic of a nascent flower.
Lamenting loudly he ran, then flew above the rose bushes howling at the heavens, crying for his beloved adoptive mother, Aphrodite:
" Mother, I’m undone, I’m undone and soon shall perish… It was a snake that savaged me, a little tiny snake with wings, the beast the farmers call a Bee…"
He hollered and sobbed until unmoved the love-godess answered: “If the sting of the Bee hurts you so much, Eros, think you not of the pain suffered by those stung by the arrows of your bow?
Adapted from: The Anakreontea
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