I see the winged archer Aximander of pale marble,
Wings fluttering like a bee, the humming of wings dipped in honey,
With the rage of a god on the battlefield, winged and immortal
He draws his arrow back, slow and lethal
buzzing and levitating over the field of battle
Like an angry hornet, his bow snaps, and he sends his arrows,
like driving steel spines into the enemy
Their violet blood sprays across the battlefield
With furious vengance, he smote his enemies, and
sent their souls soaring into the kingdom of heaven
his enemy now lies on the battlefield, dead and broken,
Fools for testing the force of lethal Athens
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem