Leave crete, come here, come to the holy place
Come to the sacred grove
Your altars are smoking with incense

Cold water sings through the fruited trees
Everything is shaded under the bower of roses
And from the shimmering radiance of leaves

An enchanted sleep drops down
Here is a meadow of spring flowers where horses graze
And a soft wind gently breaths

Come aphrodite, pour your nectar into our golden cups
In grace make the libation, bring your melissaes to life