Ten thousand days of toil for thankless kings
Making Pharos real, every obstacle
A sleepless torment; but worth all the things
He suffered. He was building a miracle.
That first day the vast cornerstone was placed
Vain Ptolemy was flattered to be graced
By the gleaming words: "By Ptolemy
To the gods guarding those upon the sea."
Forty years slavery, but it was done.
The builder slept content, without his fame.
Then plaster crumbled under wind and sun
Revealing granite, and Sostratos' name.
Princes' words on gypsum plaster are writ;
But History deep incised in granite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem