4th/5th  Story – The Smeraldo Legend

For more about the Smeraldo blog, click here.

Please do not repost my translations. Links to the page are appreciated. Translated by @courtneylazore.

This post was originally published as the 4th story in 2017, then deleted from the blog and reuploaded in 2018. The post was deleted again and reuploaded in 2020 as the 5th story.

Everyone, do you think of yourself as beautiful?

I’ve seen past experiments that set up two doors: one that had “I’m beautiful” written on it and one that had “I’m not beautiful” written on it. People were asked to choose which door they’d go through.

Everyone, if that were you, what do you think you’d do? The reason I’m bringing up this story is to start the tangled love story of smeraldo.

The story of smeraldo is estimated to date to the 15th or 16th century and said to have started in a rural village in northern Italy. In the village with the name “the city of smeraldo,” there was one isolated castle. There was a terribly ugly man who lived there.

There is nothing we know for sure about the man. “He’s the illegitimate child of an influential duke of Florence, the duke loved the daughter of a gardener and they had this child, the man’s mother died due to excessive blood loss in childbirth, the duke’s wife and children tried to kill the man, so the duke sent the man away.” The rumors are rampant, but none of them have been verified.  

The man hid alone, isolated in the old castle. Maybe because of the hatred and reproof he received during his birth and growth, he never opened his heart and hid in anger whenever someone tried to approach him. His only enjoyment was growing flowers in the garden. Then one day, a woman appeared in the area around his castle. The shabby woman jumped over the fence of the garden and ran away with some flowers. The man was angry like fire at first, and he guarded his garden all night. But when he fell into a moment of drowsiness, the woman again took more flowers and left. It continued for several days, and the man pretended to be asleep so he could watch the woman. It was because he had become curious. The man had to wait for the woman for a bit, and one day he followed her. The man covered himself with his cloak and followed, and found out that the poor and sickly woman was selling the flowers to survive.

The man wanted to help the woman. He wanted to teach her how to grow flowers, and he wanted to show her how to develop beautiful flowers. But, he couldn’t stand in front of her. It was clear that she’d be afraid of him, and that she’d be unable to love his ugly appearance.

In the end, all he could do for her was to continue to plant and develop flowers so that she could continue coming to the garden.

The man intended to create a flower that didn’t exist in the world. He started to make a flower that the woman could sell for an expensive price. The man shut himself in the castle and started making flowers. After countless failures, the man made a flower that didn’t exist in the world, and he filled his garden with those flowers. But for a while, the woman didn’t show up. No matter how long he waited, the woman didn’t appear in the garden, and the worried man covered his face and went down into the village. But, the woman was already dead.

This is the end of the story concerning the smeraldo. I don’t know whether this story is what really happened or was made up by someone looking at flowers, but every time I look at smeraldos, I recall this story and think about it.

What would have happened if the man had courage, showed his face, and conveyed his sincerity? Maybe the woman would have been scared and run off, or maybe she would have been angry. Courage isn’t as easy as it sounds.    

Actually, I have a similar experience. It’s a story about the friend I met at the playing card event, which I mentioned in the previous post. Truthfully, I had an unrequited love with that friend. That friend was very bright, cheerful, and full of light. After hearing about the discovery of the smeraldos and while exchanging related stories about flowers, we promised to go to the “city of smeraldo” together. It seemed like my friend’s heart wasn’t empty for me, because they said we should definitely go together.   

Even now I sometimes recall the events of that time. My friend’s expression that sparkled with curiosity and expectation, the image of them walking quickly with a large backpack, and the excitement of making a promise, reserving plane tickets, and discussing the itinerary.

These are moments I will never be able to forget. And no matter how much time passes, it’s a wound that isn’t going to heal.