Roses in spring in the autumn fruits and in summer they bring me
Wheat-ears, while to my mind winter is horrible pest;
For that the cold I dread lest I being god made of timber
End me as fuel for fire chopped by those ignorant boors.
In spring I am worshipped with roses, in autumn with apples, in summer with corn-wreaths, but winter is one horrid pestilence for me. For I fear the cold, and am apprehensive lest I, a wooden god, should in that season afford a fire for ignorant yokels.
[1. For lack of the stolen wood, his master would burn the image of Priapus.]