Singing is forbidden on the mountain of Apollo,
Parnassus has been still for ages past.
Or so the sign was written, an injunction we must follow
unless we wish to know Greek civic wrath.
I did not praise the god, I did not try to rouse him,
I did not disturb his ancient sleep,
Yet his pathways I have trod
and my actions have espoused him
as we depart
Parnassus gently weeps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem