Let the race of mankind

Let the race of mankind

fear the gods!

For they hold dominion

over them in their eternal hands,

and can demand

what they please of us.

Doubly so should those fear them

who have been exalted by them!

On cliffs and clouds

stools stand ready

around golden tables.

If a dispute arises,

the guests are pitched down,

abused and shamed,

into the deep dark of night;

and they wait futilely,

bound in the dark,

for justice to be served.

But they the gods remain

at their eternal feast

at the golden tables.

They step from mountain

to mountain, up above:

from the abysses of the deep

steams the breath

of suffocating Titans,

like a burnt offering,

a light mist.

The rulers turn away

their blessed eyes

from entire races of people,

shunning the sight in their descendants

of those formerly beloved and

silently-speaking features

of our ancestors.

So sang the Fates;

the banished one listens

in his night-dark lair

to the songs of the ancient ones,

thinks of his children and grandchildren

and shakes his head.