Because we broke their statues,
because we expelled them from their temples,
nonetheless they've not died from this, the gods.
Ionian earth, you they love still;
you their souls remember still.
As if an August morning dawns upon you,
the vigor of their lives passes through your atmosphere,
and at times an airy adolescent form
invisible, with fast passage,
crosses over your hills.
Translated from the Greek by Anastasios Kozaitis