Divine Astarté, because I also am a woman, I adore thee. With my blood pulsing to the song of life, with my body, supple and languorous and mine eager soul, I worship thee, O Spirit of the World.

Goddess, when thine hand touches me for an instant, I swoon, my flesh quivers and mine eyes are blinded. The sun shrouds in a cloak of purple; the moon burns like a crimson disc among the stars; the wide spaces of infinity envelop me; despair and exultation unite within mine heart.

Yet for such as I thou reignest, Astarté—robed in scarlet and flaming with desire. And, outstretched alone upon my couch among the shadows, I adore thee—I who am also a woman—Eternal Queen of mine own Mystery.