Part of it, we are, it seems Always, of this ‘subjective' madness More pronounced even in our time By the ‘truth's arch-fiends'
Just a matter of personal opinion For them hiding under its pinion Is the question of a Being called God Oft' than not dismissed as mythical
But what could be more mythical? Or is it a case of being poetical? Than an applause for the weird, What could be weirder?
For the defeat of goodness, they plot As would say, the Psalmist who taught From the world they seemed to have expelled The One whose it is
Now after our hearts they go To rid of it what remains, and so Truths employed to replace the Truth; ‘What is' with ‘what applies to me',
Kenosizing the earth of Divinity And ripping off hearts, their Paternity Are steps already taken As they make a miscellany of gods
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem