Far from here, on silver wings,
Fly men of which the gods can sing.
Upon the twists of golden fate
They hang the whole of Selene’s weight.

These men, whom I’ve the luck to spy,
Drive beasts, who’s girth one can’t deny
Across what once were glittering plains,
Now cleared through man’s tremendous pains.

They huddle close in shacks of gray,
Disdain’d by those to whom they pray.
They fight the things that would supply
The purest life for them, and I.

When blessing comes from clouds, so high!
They fight as though to it they’d die.
When it is clear for us to see
The water’s boon let’s living be.

The behemoths that they saddle so
Have a strange aversion to the snow.
So the men with silver wings of pride
Make heavens powder go and hide.

These people think themselves so strong,
But time has proved them very wrong.
The metal that they live with rusts,
To drift away with all the dusts.

These men deny the evil
That is bred within their hearts.
No silver wings or golden fates
Erase corrupted parts.