There in that land called Laconia
Where the city of Sparta lay
Its warrior citizens training
Its women strong and lithe
There was a beautiful youth
Spied by the beautiful Apollo
Who came to him as he trained
And sparked a great friendship
That developed into great love
And divine passion
They laughed and played
The games of athletes
The games of manly love
Under the brightly shining Sun
And the cool light of the Moon
On a day like any other
They trained in games of sport
The javelin, the run, the discus
And Apollo threw the heavy plate
With the force of a God
The lovely youth chased it
His laughter merry
His happiness clear
The beauty of his motion
Alighting Apollo with passion and lust
He leapt for it, missing his mark
The discus to the ground went
Its force gouging furrows into the Earth
Recoiling back toward him
To Apollo’s great regret
The youth fell silently
The strength drained from him
Like olive oil from a jug
And upon the Earth the youth’s blood fell
As his very life soaked into the Earth
With great despair Apollo ran
His heart broken his spirit in tatters
He plied his arts and poured forth his power
But it all in vain
The youth lay broken
His cries shook heaven and Earth in kind
His sorrow darkened the skies
His hands sank into the bloody Earth
To make a promise
To a love now gone
Never, not ever, will you be forgotten
In my songs, in my art
In the memories of man
And from that earth bloomed a glorious flower
Known to man by his very name, the beautiful Hyacinth
Art: The Death of Hyacinth by Alexandre Kisseliov
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