Colossi of Memnon
The Singing Statues
Rising from the floodplain west of Luxor, two colossal figures sit in silence, their faces weathered, their bodies scarred by time. They are the Colossi of Memnon, towering statues over eighteen meters high, carved from single blocks of quartzite transported from quarries near Cairo more than 600 kilometers away.
In antiquity, these statues flanked the grand entrance to the mortuary temple of Amenhotep III, one of the largest temple complexes ever built in Egypt. The temple itself stretched across the plain, filled with courtyards, halls, and sanctuaries where priests honored the king’s memory and Amun-Ra’s power. Today, little remains of that vast structure. Floods and time have erased its walls, leaving only the two great guardians seated at its gates.
Even in ruin, their presence is overwhelming. Each figure depicts Amenhotep III seated on his throne, hands resting calmly on his knees, his gaze fixed eastward toward the rising sun. Smaller carvings of his queen, his mother, and the Nile god are still visible along their legs. Though eroded, the statues retain a quiet majesty, reminders of a temple that once almost rivaled Karnak in scale.
Experience it
The Colossi of Memnon became world-famous for a very unique phenomenon- their voice.
In 27 BCE, an earthquake struck the Theban plain, cracking the northern statue from waist to head. Afterward, something extraordinary happened: at sunrise, the statue would emit a faint sound — a low hum, a ringing tone, sometimes described as the twang of a harp string or the whisper of stone warming in the sun.
Greek visitors, awed by the phenomenon, gave the statues a new identity. They believed the figure was Memnon, the Ethiopian hero of the Trojan War, son of Eos, the goddess of dawn. The sound, they said, was Memnon greeting his mother each morning as the sun rose.
The legend spread quickly. Pilgrims, poets, and emperors came to witness the “singing statue.” Travelers carved their names and testimonies into the stone — over a hundred inscriptions still survive. Among those who visited was Emperor Hadrian in 130 CE, who claimed to have heard the voice himself.
In the late Roman period, restorations were made to stabilize the broken statue. The repairs succeeded, but it silenced the sound. The Colossi never “sang” again. But by then, the myth had ensured their immortality.
Today, the statues sit in silence once more, weathered but enduring. Tourists gather at their base, dwarfed by their size, listening not for a voice but for the echo of stories told across millennia. The temple they once guarded has vanished, the sound has faded, but the legend remains — two colossal figures, silent witnesses to history, still watching the sunrise over the Nile.
We invite you to experience this moment for yourself.
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