I call to Apollo, radiant and beautiful god,
son of fair Leto and lightning-wielding Zeus,
brother of swift-footed, true-shooting Artemis.
In ancient Delphi you lent your wisdom to all,
in Delos and in far-off shrines your words did sound;
across the land, in all the provinces, Phoebus,
were temples raised in your name, did men and women
gather in your honor, wreathed in sweet flowers,
words of prayer upon their lips. Many loves were yours,
bright Apollo, and many noble sons and daughters;
father of kind Asklepios, your healing hand
can cease the most poisonous of plagues. Apollo,
we see you in beauty–in art and in song,
in the perfection of numbers, in the words of poets,
in the drive toward truth. Apollo, I call to you.

Apollo, shining son of great Zeus
and blessed Leto, twin to Artemis,
bright-faced god, ever present, ever distant,
we greet you with reverence and awe.
Clear-eyed Apollo, far-seeing one,
sharp-sighted archer, always true of aim,
true of vision, true of perception,
constant guide of poets and musicians,
of those who seek beauty, of its creation,
you grant to us the tools of artistry–
words drawn from the heart, laid with care,
tales told with skill and vigor, prayer and song
to honor the gods, melody and harmony,
all the joy and sorrow of our lives
transformed. Apollo, fire and form
of inspiration, I honor you.