Just like the river Hebros runs down to the sea;
just like the Moon runs through the sky;
just like the son runs to the lap of Hipta his nurse;
so shall this evil swarm flee far from the Bacchant NN
pursued by the Golden Apples of Dionysos.
May all evil pains, evil aches, evil fevers, evil sickness,
and evil injuries inflicted by Ponēros or any other
return to their master, and never come again
to trouble NN the Bacchant who cries, “Io evohe!”