I call upon you, blessed, many-named,
bull-horned, Nysian, Lysios,
Lenaios, conceived in fire.
Nourished in the thigh, Liknites,
you lead torch-lit processions,
you lead them in the night, O filleted,
O thyrsos-shaking Eubouleus.
Your nature three-fold, your rites ineffable,
O secret offspring of Zeus,
father and son of the gods,
you take raw flesh, and sceptered you lead us
into the madness of revel and dance,
into the frenzy of triennial feasts
You burst forth from the earth in a blaze . . .
horned and clad in fawn skin, you roam the mountains,
O lord worshipped in annual feasts.
Paian of the golden spear,
nursling, decked with grapes,
Bassaros, exulting in ivy,
followed by many maidens . . .
joyous and all-abounding, come,
O blessed one, to the initiates.
(trans. by Apostolos Athanassakis)