To get back into the rhythm of posting, I’m going to give you our translation of Hesiod’s Theogony.
Let us begin to sing of the Heliconian muses,
who live on that great and sacred mount of Helicon,
where they dance around the purple spring
and the altar of the mighty son of Kronos.
Bathing their smooth skin clean in the Permessus,
or perhaps the Hippocrene, or holy Olmeius,
they sing choral odes on highest Helicon,
beautiful odes, odes inciting love,
as they dance nimbly about on their soft feet.
Setting out from that sacred place, they walk
covered in thick mist, dwellers of the night,
their beautiful voices calling forth, singing
the praises of the aegis-bearing Zeus,
and queenly Hera of Argos, whose feet
walk in golden sandals; grey-eyed Athena also,
daughter of the aegis-bearer; and Phoebos Apollo,
and arrow-shooting Artemis; earthbreaking,
earthshaking Poseidon and venerated Themis;
quick-glancing Aphrodite and gold-crowned Hebe;
beautiful Dione, and Leto, and Iapetus, and wily Kronos too,
and Eos and great Helios and the shining Selene;
and Earth and great Ocean and dark Night,
and the holy race of the rest of the immortals
who live undying.
