Hearken, you Gods, holding the helm of the holy wisdom,
who, having kindled an upward-leading fire, draw to the Immortals
human souls, who leave the dark hole behind,
purified by the secret initiations of hymns.
Hearken, Great Saviours, and grant me from every divine books
pure light, scattering the mist,
so that I know well an Immortal God from a man;
that a daemon, doing cruel things, may not hold me forever submerged
in the streams of forgetfulness, while I am far away from the blessed ones
that a chilling penalty may not bind my soul with the fetters of life,
which, fallen into the waves of cold becoming,
does not want to wander all too long.
But Gods, leaders towards bright-shining wisdom,
hearken and reveal to me, while hurrying to the upward leading track,
the secret rites and initiations of the holy words.
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