I call to Ares, strong one, swift one, clever one,
god of the impulse, god of the moment,
god of the hunch and the quick reaction,
god of the battle, god of the fight. Ares,
son of thundering Zeus and dark-eyed Hera,
few were your temples, few were your shrines, for those
who held you dearest had a grave need indeed
for your favor–the field of battle was your temple,
the blood of the slain a final offering.
From the north you came, O bold-spirited Ares;
in far-flung Thrace you made your home,
the Spartans and the men of Macedon revered you.
Ares, granter of courage, granter of strength,
granter of the will to endure, friend of the wronged
and of the vengeful, O Ares, I call to you.