In your inner chamber you stand,
tall and proud,
lit by raging fires who
like your worshippers
enjoy being close to you.
Gold and ivory make up
your form: symbols of your splendour
and the money your people
are so willing to spend on you.
Your temple offers sanctuary -
no arrests or cruel behaviour would one
dare to carry out within the walls your spirit
seeps into and blesses. Not even the head of that
monster, Medusa, could prevent the mortals'
The griffins are bold: the mysticism is
strong: elves and sprites roam
the forest of columns beneath you.
Could there even be a magical presence
hiding in those roof tiles of terracotta clay?
Or perhaps in those glossy marble steps...
Humans bring you gifts:
of gold and silver, rainbow-coloured
of rich, soft materials,
carvings as well; whilst outside,
statues of you and models of your temple
The sculptors and builders hope
their work is worthy of you.
The crowds gather to view your grandeur.
We carry you to our Games with pride.
We hold parades for you,
So beautiful, standing in your inner chamber.