Welcome to our plentiful feast O august Deo,
grandmother of the vine and wet-nurse of mountain-fostered Bakcheios,
you who love the season of autumn when the golden wheat is threshed
and the leaves on the fair trees burn brightest before they fall
and the last of the produce is brought to market by the industrious farmers,
those holy toilers in the fields who keep your traditions alive with their tireless labor
feeding the city of the well-born ones in this fertile valley
nourished by the pure waters of the Willamette and McKenzie rivers.
O frenzied Chloê, accept this offering we gathered for you
and carried home in the liknon-basket, all the best fruits, grains and vegetables we could find.
May the fragrance of fresh-baked bread be pleasing to you O mistress Demeter,
you who first taught man to cultivate the earth and make food from plants
instead of the flesh of beasts; you who caused us to put aside our savage ways
and embrace just laws and the harmonious existence of civilized city-life.
You with eyes like blue camas flowers and hair green as hops, crowned with poppies,
you who hold barley in your hands to remind us of that wonderful beverage, dear to your heart,
that you first quenched your thirst with when you searched for your beautiful daughter over the whole earth.
Rejoice O bountiful Ceres in our celebration,
as we rejoice in all that you have graciously bestowed upon us
and we will remember you again next year!