To Pothos, great of repute, great of might,
imminent and inevitable, companion
of fair Aphrodite and the Erotes,
yours is the gift of sweet desire that fills the heart
and fires the loins, a gift that sears the soul.
Yours is the cup of passion, from which you pour,
lavishly and with abandon, upon all humankind,
a blessing of unreason, an irresistible call;
yours is the longing of the lovelorn, the yearning
of the distant lover, of those torn from the arms
of their beloved, separated by need, by duty,
or by sorrowful circumstance. Pothos, to you I pray.