Hail, gold-crowned Phoebe of the bright intellect
Who sits upon the navel of the world;
Prophecy is yours to give, O Phoebe.
You gave birth to Asteria, goddess of falling stars and nocturnal knowledge,
Giver of prophetic dreams and the starry wisdom of astrology,
Who turned herself into a quail to escape the pursuit of Zeus,
And became the island of Delos on which your grandchildren Apollon and Artemis were born,
Refuge for your pursued and persecuted daughter Leto, goddess of motherhood.
You gave Delphi, greatest of all oracles, to Apollon as a birthday gift.
Honor to you, Phoebe, brightly shining.