Many of these gods have perished
It is for them the willows weep
The great Pan love Jesus Christ
Are truly dead and the cats meow
In the courtyard I weep in Paris
I who know lays for queens
The complaints of my years
Hymns of a slave to the morays
The romance of the unloved
And songs for the sirens
Love is dead I tremble at it
I adore beautiful idols
The memories resembling him
Like the wife of Mausoleus
I remain faithful and mournful
I am faithful as a mastiff
To its master ivy to the trunk
And the Zaporozhian Cossacks
Pious drunkards and thieves
To the steppes and the Decalogue
Wear like a yoke the Crescent
That astrologers question
I am the all-powerful Sultan
O my Zaporozhian Cossacks
Your dazzling Lord
Become my faithful subjects
The Sultan had written to them
They laughed at this news
And answered instantly
By the light of a candle
Guillaume Apollinaire
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-many-of-these-gods-have-perished-guillaume-apollinaire/
