Day I. To Dionysos Nyktelios

Join this prayerful circle, O Dionysos who loves nights
when the mad-women, the monsters, the magicians,
priestesses of the winepress and initiates in infernal mystery-rites
all roam the streets howling ithyphallic hymns
beneath a sleepless Moon.
You are old,
your countenance is cold,
and you cast a pale radiance
like the cheek of an untouched maiden,
an idol of unpainted marble,
shell of an uncracked egg,
or the horn of an unblemished bull.
You stand in the myrtled prow of your ghostly ship
sailing down the milky river of remembrance,
with bones in your braids and ash covering your face,
O fearless Hunter and Slayer of the rampaging boar,
triumphant Dionysos, long may you be hailed!
Accept our offering of smoke and words,
and in return breathe on us in a spirit of perfect kindness.