Once the weary travelers
Were gladly taken in though
Strange and foreign they might be
For gods could walk with men
Those were fairer times than ours
When feasts kept none without
When trust and honor ruled the land
And mastered fear and doubt
Behind each weather-crusted hood
And cloak of oaken hue
A ruler of the world of stars
Might be hidden from our view
But now they sit outside our door
And howl and curse us all,
For we have mounted lonely stairs
And caused the gods to fall
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem