You also, Hyacinth from Amyclae, Apollo would have placed in heaven,
If sad fates had given [you] time for the sake of placing.
The capacity of which is allowed, however you are eternal,
And whenever spring drives out winter, and the Aries follows the watery Pisces,
So often you rise and blossom in fresh turf.
My father loved you above all others; Delphi,
Placed in the middle of the earth, [was] seperated from [its] gaurd
While the god frequented the Eurotas and ungaurded Sparta,
Neither the lyre nor the arrow are are in honor:
Forgetful of himself, he did not refuse to carry traps,
Not to restrain dogs, not to go as a companion through the valleys of the
Hostile mountain, and by means of great habits, he nourished [his] love.
Now Titan was nearly halfway between the coming and having been gone night
And he stood apart in equal space from both ends.
They relieved [their] bodies of clothing and began to shine with
Dense olive oil enter a contest of having been carried discus.
First, poised Apollo sent it [the discus] into the lofty air
And he divides the opposite clouds by means of the burden.
The burden fell back itto the solid ground after a long time
And it presented with strength [and] with joined skill.
Immediatly, ignorant of the deed, and for desire of the game
Hyacinth was rushing to raise the disc, but
The hard earth threw it [the discus], like a rebounded whip,
Into your face, Hyacinth. The boy grew pale just as himself,
The god rescues the joints of the collapsing one [Hyacinth],
And he just revives you, he just dries the sad wound,
Now he sustains the fleeing soul by means of bringing an herb.
Nothing helps the skills: the wound is incurable.
Just as, if anyone breaks violets or rigid poppies
And lillies trembling from reddish-yellow stems in a garden,
Suddenly the bent ones [the flowers] turn down their withered head
And they do not sustain themselves and look at the earth with their blossom.
So too the dying one [Hyacinth] lays down his head and his neck becomes a burden unto
Itself by means of his exhausted strength and he lies down on his shoulder.
“Hyacinth, you fall from your prime and your youth is swindled,”
Apollo said, “and I see your wound, as my crime.”
If sad fates had given [you] time for the sake of placing.
The capacity of which is allowed, however you are eternal,
And whenever spring drives out winter, and the Aries follows the watery Pisces,
So often you rise and blossom in fresh turf.
My father loved you above all others; Delphi,
Placed in the middle of the earth, [was] seperated from [its] gaurd
While the god frequented the Eurotas and ungaurded Sparta,
Neither the lyre nor the arrow are are in honor:
Forgetful of himself, he did not refuse to carry traps,
Not to restrain dogs, not to go as a companion through the valleys of the
Hostile mountain, and by means of great habits, he nourished [his] love.
Now Titan was nearly halfway between the coming and having been gone night
And he stood apart in equal space from both ends.
They relieved [their] bodies of clothing and began to shine with
Dense olive oil enter a contest of having been carried discus.
First, poised Apollo sent it [the discus] into the lofty air
And he divides the opposite clouds by means of the burden.
The burden fell back itto the solid ground after a long time
And it presented with strength [and] with joined skill.
Immediatly, ignorant of the deed, and for desire of the game
Hyacinth was rushing to raise the disc, but
The hard earth threw it [the discus], like a rebounded whip,
Into your face, Hyacinth. The boy grew pale just as himself,
The god rescues the joints of the collapsing one [Hyacinth],
And he just revives you, he just dries the sad wound,
Now he sustains the fleeing soul by means of bringing an herb.
Nothing helps the skills: the wound is incurable.
Just as, if anyone breaks violets or rigid poppies
And lillies trembling from reddish-yellow stems in a garden,
Suddenly the bent ones [the flowers] turn down their withered head
And they do not sustain themselves and look at the earth with their blossom.
So too the dying one [Hyacinth] lays down his head and his neck becomes a burden unto
Itself by means of his exhausted strength and he lies down on his shoulder.
“Hyacinth, you fall from your prime and your youth is swindled,”
Apollo said, “and I see your wound, as my crime.”