Day by day the gods decline,
Their images slipping over
The years and centuries,
And now, no one knows who is god and who is man.
In the brain of mankind god is crouched,
Fingertips pressed to his temples
In sign of remorse
And in his bitter regret cries aut:
What, oh what have I created?
Man does not know
Whether god is his creation
Or he a creation of god,
But he sees that is a folly
To meditate upon an idol
That answers not.
And now, no one knows who is god and who is man.
A time has come
When man understand one another well enough
To build the Tower of Babel-
And at the top of the Tower, to the highest throne
Man will mount
And thence cry aut:
God! Where are you?