Their fingers were all rotted, but their rings remained,
their empty loins were withered, but their thin skulls shone
with wide-eyed sophistry and brimmed with mocking smiles.
In their plush homes, the gods, demeaned to bric-a-brac,
cooped up like parrots in their cages of gold bars,
were hung in windows where with human voice they squawked
and cackled back those words which they were taught to say.
Nikos Kazantzakis, Odysseia, V.308-314, Kimon Friar (trad)
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