Οὐδέ τις ἦν κείνοισιν Ἄρης θεὸς οὐδὲ Κυδοιμός
οὐδὲ Ζεὺς βασιλεὺς οὐδὲ Κρόνος οὐδὲ Ποσειδῶν,
ἀλλὰ Κύπρις βασίλεια.
τὴν οἵ γ’ εὐσεβέεσσιν ἀγάλμασιν ἱλάσκοντο
γραπτοῖς τε ζῴοισι μύροισί τε δαιδαλεόδμοις
σμύρνης τ’ ἀκρήτου θυσίαις λιβάνου τε θυώδους,
ξανθῶν τε σπονδὰς μελίτων ῥίπτοντες ἐς οὖδας·
ταύρων δ’ ἀκρήτοισι φόνοις οὐ δεύετο βωμός,
ἀλλὰ μύσος τοῦτ’ ἔσκεν ἐν ἀνθρώποισι μέγιστον,
θυμὸν ἀπορραίσαντες ἐ<ν>έδμεναι ἠέα γυῖα.
(Empedocles, fr. 128)

To them, neither Ares nor Kydoimos [battle tumult] were gods, neither Zeus the king, nor Kronos, nor Poseidon, but Kypris [Aphrodite] was their queen. Her they appeased with properly respectful gifts: with pictures of animals and with finely crafted perfumes, with burnt offerings of pure myrrh and sweet-smelling frankincense, and by pouring yellow honey on the ground. The altar was not drenched with the pure gore of bulls, but this was the greatest pollution among humans: to wash out the soul and eat the noble limbs. (tr. Andrej & Ivana Petrovic)

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