While Orpheus of Thrace, with his songs, drew towards him the forest, The wild animals, and the senseless stones to follow; Look! The matrons of Ciconia, hiding their game as a distraction With fleece over their chest, they watch him out of the top of a mount The songs of Orpheus are united with the striking of his instrument5 One of the some women, with her hair being thrown as it is lifted through a breeze, “Look!” it is said, “Look, this is the one who looks down upon us!” And she send her spear towards the able to speak mouth of Apollo’s poet, Which the spear, following with leaves, made another lesser mark without wounding, Another who sent away a stone herself10 As it lived in the air, it was encountered by the singing voice of the lyric poetry And just as it prepared for the begging about its madness It lied before his feet. But indeed the recklessness arises War through a manner of madness reigned by Erinys departed All of the spears were made soft through celebration, But the huge15 Shouts of Cybele’s flute with broken trumpets The small drums and the striking and the howls of Bacchus The lyres made loud sounds, then finally the stone Reddened, with the blood of the poet, with unclear hearing. And first, even now the singing of his voice astonished20 The countless birds, serpents, and the rest of the wild animals The label of the triumph of Orpheus is snatched by Bacchante Thence they turned their right hands of being stained onto Orpheus And together as if birds, if at that time with light wandering Seperating of the night the birds, at both ends from the theater staging25 As the morning rises, a deer that will die in the arena Is the loot of the dogs, they attack the poet and the lively foliage They threw the ivy leaves, these that were not made for this service These clods of soil, those tear apart branches from the tree, Some of them hurled stones; and so from their madness was not a lack of weaponry 30 By chance, bulls were overwhelming the earth they were conquering as they became sick, Not far off from this, many were preparing to produce with sweat Muscular farmers were digging at the hardened soil, Who fled when seeing the flock, their work is left behind Their own tools, lying down scattered throughout the empty fields35