Hyacintos rose and saw the two gods,
Zephyr retreating from the god of the sun.
He saw how they stared, how their eyes devoured him,
And yearned for them both, but knew he must love one.
But how to decide, he knew not,
As he was bathed in the rising sun.
Through Apollo’s magic sweet beauty filled the air,
And on his lyre the god did strum.
A song of great beauty was played on that lyre,
And in Hyacintos’ breast it lit a great fire,
There seemed to be no words, yet somehow it spoke
Of love and hope, of mortal desire,
Of moments that were for forever,
And in his mortal mind,
While gazing upon Apollo’s sweet eyes,
He wondered where else such beauty he could find.
Then he felt a cool breeze and turned to Zephyr,
And waited for the voice of the one he held dear.
Still silence remained, not even the warm winds
With which Zephyr first tantalised the boy.
So Hyacintos spoke, and as he did so shed a single tear.
“Say – something wonderful,
Say – something magical,
Say why I should be thine.
“Show – that I’m dear to you.
Still no? Then I fear for you,
Just say you’ll remember me when I leave!
“Can’t you show me you love me?
Are you afraid to care?
You’ll be just a memory, a breath of wind in my hair,
Unless you can say something magical to me.”
But still the wind god was silent, though he longed to speak,
And Hyacintos turned away as his crystal tear,
Made golden by Apollo’s sun,
Fell from his cheek.
I hope that you enjoyed today’s poem. It is not based on anything I have read – one of the main reasons I chose the tale of Hyacintos is the amount of room for improvisation. I must say, Apollo is a far less sympathetic character than I had originally imagined. But there you go. Sometimes characters get away from you – do any of you find that?
The Hapless Neo-Romantic