An unknown sorrow is in bloom and the only flower he wants to see leaves the ground bare of its beauty.

The ancients remember him as a beautiful victim and an unblemished warrior.

The sun loved him and so did the wind.

Killed by his own admirer he falls the to the ground.

But the sun cannot heal him and so all the muses sing unto rain and unto wind the sadness of Hyacinth and how the sun loved him.

And so did the wind.

Even now the wind must hide from the wrath of the sun.

So all sing the story of the Spartan Prince, lover of the sun and keeper of the winds heart, sing the story of Hyacinth.