And the boy turned to the god,
And his soft lips brushed against his cheek,
And he turned in silence away,
And still Zephyr could not speak.
Then Apollo took Hyacintos by the hand,
And walked with him to a distant land,
And then Zephyr, choked, found his voice,
And in a whisper he said,
“Farewell to my hope,
Goodbye, my bleeding heart,
For he has gone, has left me.
Blow no more, you bitter winds,
You cannot freeze me any more,
Now joy lies cold and lifeless.
“Can you not hear my cries in the wind?
Do you not know what you mean to me?
When ev’ry star is the glint of your eye,
When ev’ry voice is an imitation
Of you, my love?
Do you not hear me sigh in the breeze,
The harrowing storms of my solitude?
The hated hurricane, the terrifying gale,
Of my wrath? Of my pain?
“Leave me here on my own,
Allow me that dignity,
That you do not see me weep.
Each tear for Hyacintos,
Is a silver eternity,
For me in the sighing winds.”
I hope that you enjoyed today’s poem. It marks the end of what I consider ‘Act 1’ of Hyacintos.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic