They wrenched the stars out of
Those holes of prying
Darker, for which Age, had been
Paranoid, deifying.
They wrested the stars from
Hero-raised worship.
Got, through Hera's milky way
On them a jewel's grip.
They landed with stars on
Ledges they left not.
From a form of a canon
The eyes were but shot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem