And they filled the altar, in the heaven's crushed heart
with the remnants of a soul, they deemed to be white,
striking it with their hammers, molding it by the shape of the man
they would create in their image, and sail out of their heaven
into a heaven of his own, that they offered him
to discover and to own, to cherish or to destroy.
How cruel was his heart, to love his lady more
than the gods he found to be mere characters
in a book of fairytales.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem