Goethe Translated Prometheus

So, cover, Zeus, your sky with clouds, and practice, like the boy, on thistles, decapitation, on oaks and mountain ranges. My earth is mine, you cannot take the hut you did not build nor yet my kitchen hearth whose fires you begrudge. I know no more pathetic ones under the sun than you, the Gods! You nourish, barely, through taxes and donations, as well as prayer breath your majesty, who'd surely starve if children, beggars, and hopeful fools did not exist. I was a child, knew not the rules and turned my erring eye up to the sun, as if to find a higher ear to listen to my pain. A heart like mine with mercy for a troubled soul. Who helped me fight against the Titans' arrogance, who saved from death or slavery this man? It was MY holy, glowing heart betrayed by one above, who slept and now expects my thanks. Why would I honour you, for what? And, did you soothe my pain or dry the tears of those who lived in fear? It was the might of time that forged a man, eternal fate to masters, yours and mine? And, did you fathom I should hate all life and flee to deserts, while leaving dreams of budding flowers well behind? Here I sit, creating humans, an image after mine, its gender matters not, to suffer and to cry in joy and happiness. And, just like I, with no respect for you.