I call to Salacea of the slender bough,
lady of the willow, lady of waters
clear and blue, fresh and sweet. Well-crowned goddess,
fair and good, friend of the lovely river-maids,
your temple once stood by the green riverside,
where you and your company received due offering;
yours is the bower of wood slim and supple,
yours is the lily of the pond. We know you
in the warm spring rains, the tears we shed in joy
or sorrow, we know you in the tales long told
of stalking trees and spirit groves. Salacea,
I praise your nature and your name, I honor you.

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