We present this work in honor of the poet’s 275th birthday.

 

Cover your sky, Zeus,
With cloudiness,
And try out your strength,
Like a boy beheading thistles,
On oaks and mountain tops;
You must leave standing
My earth
And hut not built by you,
And my hearth
Whose glow you envy.

I know nothing poorer
Under the sun than you, o gods!
You sparely nurture
Your majesty
On sacrificial tribute
And the breath of prayers,
And would starve
If children and beggars
Were not hopeful fools.

When I was a child
And had reached my wit’s end,
I turned my lost eye
To the sun, as if above it
Were an ear to hear my lament,
A heart like mine
To take pity on me in my straights.

Who helped me
Against the arrogant Titans?
Who saved me from death,
From slavery?
Did you not attain it all yourself,
Holy glowing heart,
And young and innocent, betrayed,
Radiated thanks for deliverance
To the sleeper up above?

I honour you? For what?
Have you ever soothed
The pain of the burdened?
Have you ever dried
The tears of the frightened?
Have not almighty time
And eternal fate,
My lords and yours,
Forged me into manhood?

Did you imagine
I would hate life,
Flee into deserts
Because not all
My dreams blossomed
Into fruition?
Here I sit, make men
In my image,
A race that shall be like me,
Suffer, weep,
Take pleasure and enjoy,
And ignore you,
Like me.

Translation by Peter Lach-Newinsky