Perched atop the vaulted arches of Notre Dame
Exquisitely carved spouts are not angelic hosts
To receive the embattled, sinful souls seeking
Entrance to the cathedral, Paris's most holy,
Close inspection reveals grotesque, ugly creatures,
Medieval gargoyles spout, appeasing the gods
Ere sinners enter the sanctuary of grace,
Souls unbaptized with holy water gushing down.
Irony-laden solace from chimera lips
With nefarious grin they draw upward the eye
And guard the Apostles gathered in the facade
One passes 'neath to enter the sanctuary
The solemn midday mass has already commenced
Elaborately-robed priests offer bread and wine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem