That we've broken their statues,
that we've driven them out of their temples
doesn't mean at all that the gods are dead.
O land of Ionia, they're still in love with you,
their souls still keep your memory.
When an August dawn wakes over you,
the atmosphere is potent with their life
and sometimes a young ethereal figure
indistinct, in rapid flight,
wings across your hills.
C.P. Cavafy, “Ionic,” from Selected Poems (translated from the Greek by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)
Source: didoofcarthage