Eros, dropping to the eyes and the desire for sweet delight
pour in every soul that axles,
not appear to me to be your misery, your coming
I is not violence!
not fire, not the stars is so strong stroke,
as the arrow of Aphrodite,
throwing with his hands
Eros, the son of Zeus.
vain to Zeus, on the banks dell'Alfeo,
vain to Phoebus, in the homes of Pylos,
Hellas offers the blood of oxen, if
Eros, the tyrant of men
- he of the beloved Aphrodite's alcove
has the keys - not venerate:
him between death and ruin
opens the way,