A La Cibeles

With your imposing figure, with your chariot full of fruits
I call on you, white Cibeles, beside your fertile lands

Your lions are patient, your crown a fortress
You dress up adorned, amidst the rising waters

Two cherubs play in the water, guarding your back
With amphora and conch shell, with tender hands they cover your path
With amphora and conch shell, with tender hands they cover your path

Hippomenes and Atalanta, the lovers stay alert
They protect your scepter and ancestral key on the way
Your guard, the castrated Atis, young god of vegetation
Refreshes your lions, turned into a grotesque

Your origin was a meteorite that forged your temple in Pesinunte
Then you arrived in Greece, and Claudius honored you in Rome
Then you arrived in Greece, and Claudius honored you in Rome

Augustus founded Barcino, and consecrated your sanctuary there
You crossed the Mediterranean, and in Santa Eulalia your worship remained

Your gaze is intense, goddess Cibeles, pure greenery
You long for your Anatolia, your fertile land of Asia Minor

You converse among other springs with God Neptune and his trident
You converse with God Apollo and his lyre that sings to the Sun
But your dreams turn back to Anatolia that brought you forth
You miss God Dionysus, whom you let go among his dances
You miss God Dionysus, whom you let go among his dances
You miss God Dionysus, whom you let go among his dances… You let go