xxv
If I could only be in Pierria,
Or Cyprus,
Cyprus, Aphrodite's land,
Haunted by swarms of Eros,
The love-boys
Who enchant our mortal lives,
Or Paphos, where the hundred mouths
Of the fertile river,
Well out of the transparent sea
To feed the sun-parched land,
Or Pierria, the gentle half of holy Olympus
The home of Muses,
Oh, take me there,
Oh, take me there,
Bromius,
Bromius,
God of Many Voices,
God of Joy,
There,
There Live the Graces
There Grows Desire,
There the Bacchae are free to worship
Lead me there.
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