Sing loud you women who feast the god
that brings your fathers, husbands and sons safely home,
Ares who excels all the glorious ones of Mount Olympos
in courage and the strength of his body,
who has never admitted defeat even in the midst of overwhelming odds
and monstrous foes born of the rugged earth in a rage
— leader of hosts, driver of swift-footed steeds,
he who delights in the clash of arms and the roar of battle frenzy,
taught to dance by the centaurs,
and handsome in his gleaming helm with crest of horse hair
when he strides victoriously into the chamber of love’s golden goddess,
Aphrodite of the surging waves.
Hail the protector of your fields and the graves of your ancestors,
the one who does the hard, dirty work to ensure that Peace and Justice prevail
and the people are free to worship whatever god they choose.
All owe Ares and those who march with him a great debt,
so never cease to laud him and crown his altar with plentiful offerings
which would not exist but for his grace and generosity.