Anacreon
I wish to tune my quivering lyre
To deeds of fame and notes of fire
To echo, from its rising swell
How heroes fought and nations fell
Fired with the hope of future fame
I seek some nobler hero's name
The dying chords are strung anew
To war, to war, my harp is due
Ha barbitos de chordais
Erôta mounon êchei
With glowing strings, the epic strain
To Jove's great son I raise again
Alcides and his glorious deeds
Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds
To other deeds my soul is strung
And sweeter notes shall now be sung
My harp shall all its powers reveal
To tell the tale my heart must feed
Ha barbitos de chordais
Erôta mounon êchei
[All,] all in vain, my wayward lyre
Wakes silver notes of [soft] desire
Adieu, ye cheefs renown'd in arms
Adieu the clang of war's alarms
Ha barbitos de chordais
Erôta mounon êchei
Anacreon