When the sands of fate have fallen at your feet…
when the very last grain of truth passes through your soul…
when glimmers of joy fail to light your path…
Have you not died as I?
When Apollo burns to wilt your rotting flesh…
when the blood of Hades fills your un-drunk cup…
when the cries of Aphrodite decay the purities of your womb…
Have you not lived as I?
When immortal giants have tarnished, victims to time;
when the tides cease to churn your pestilent judgment…
when unholy beasts turn night upon day…
Have you not been born as I?
When you mask your sight, my vision is free.
When you deter my existence, I will stand.
When you cower from the truth, I fear nothing.
Have you not become me, and I you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem