O Agrat bat Maḥalat, spirit of fornication,
Yahō banished you from his heavenly kingdom
when proud Hēlēl ben Šāḥar raised his sword of flame
against Michaēl, Archistrategos of the Angelic Armies,
and you slew the Seraphim Asyā and Bēlusia
using a red snake and a black snake for arrows.

O Agrat bat Maḥalat, filthy thing that lives to corrupt,
you and your thousand and eight hundred followers
were driven from fiery Sheol when your husband Samaēl
challenged Abaddōn for rule of that wretched place, and lost.

O Agrat bat Maḥalat, queen of the demons along with
Eišeth Zēnunīm, Naamah, and your hated rival Lilith,
the inhabited parts of the upper world are denied you
except on Wednesdays and Shabbos eve, leaving you
the desert wastes where the onager and scorpion
have their dwelling, and that only because
the righteous Ḥanina ben Dosa changed his prayer
at the last moment, granting you those small mercies.
Don’t expect similar treatment this time;
wipe the fake tears from your cheeks,
and quit your vain plaints, for though I am
accomplished in sacred rites as he was
I am not that man, blessed be his memory,
and I worship a very different sort of God.

O Agrat bat Maḥalat, who preys upon our weaknesses,
if you persist in sending visions of every kind of lewdness
and attempt to twist my natural desires into something perverse;
if you fill my mind with innumerable distractions and plant seeds of doubt
and indifference that will grow into a thorny bush difficult to uproot;
if you stir up petty grievances, undeserved annoyance, and corrosive
jealousy to weaken and shatter the bonds of marriage, and friendship,
and duty to my divinities and community, you will regret it, fiend!
There will be no place left for you to flee, no day on which you are free
to trouble mankind, and even Mår and Meŝtag will turn their backs
and pretend not to know you, for fear of the wrath you have provoked
in the God who is my protector, and my refuge, the one
whom I constantly pray to and make offerings to, Dionysos of Beit She’an.
He hunts in the mountains of Gilbōa, and stalks the Jezreēl valley in search
of your kind. He catches a hundred demons in his net and beheads them
with his terrible double axe by night, and during the day he chases down
a hundred more, until he catches them and drowns them in the river Jordan.

Do you doubt his ferocity and power? Then ask Beliar the next time
you go secretly to his bed to commit your whoredoms, or look at the scars
that valiant warrior of the Abyss bears upon his body. Once the whole region
belonged to him, and he had a dark tower reaching to the heavens there.
But he challenged wide-traveling Dionysos as he was passing through,
your lover in the shape of a wolf and the stranger in the likeness of a bull.
The battle was fierce but decisive, and after the battered Beliar
tucked tail and ran, the son of Zeus tore the dark tower down
and built his city, the jewel of the Decapolis, upon its ruins.
And lest you forget, it was to the arms of Mevakkalta
that Beliar fled, not to your own.

So depart from this place while you still can; forget our names
and temptations, and trouble this pious household no more,
Agrat bat Maḥalat, or we will remember yours.