I call to Braciaca of the kindly lands,
the hills of white lime, the river swift and broad;
blessed is your domain, O goddess, and blessed
are those who dwell within, O great-hearted one
whose favor is granted freely and fairly.
The dead in their mounds rest under your ground,
gifted and buried beneath the thick-sown sod,
their wisdom and their bond preserved throughout the years.
The joys in life are likewise in your realm, O goddess;
good ale is yours, the sweet malt and the bitter hop,
the pleasure of genial company, of fond friends
and merry times. For all your gifts I thank you!

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