I sue the one called Amor
Clumsiest of Olympos
Yes, that myopic young lad
I challenge the god Eros

I accuse him before Zeus
The lord of the sky, great king
I sue the white sea-foam's son
It's his satire I now sing

I doubt the lad's archery
Hand unsteady, bad his aim
He doesn't know how to shoot
That's the thing I hereby claim

Take his bow and arrows, Zeus
For his hands are too unskilled
Give them to brave Apollo
For too many tears are spilled