In company with one dear friend, how pleasing to me
is a cup of wine. When I become the prey of care, it
is fitting that my eyes should be filled with tears. Oh!
this abject world has nothing lasting for us, and best it
is to dwell inebriate.
Keep thyself from drinking wine in the company of a
boorish, violent character, having no mind or self-control,
for such a man knows only how to cause unpleasantness.
For the time, thou wouldst have to undergo the disorder
of his drunkenness, his vociferations, his folly. And the
next day, his prayers for excuse and pardon would come
to weary thy head.
Since you only possess what God has given you, torment
not yourself to obtain the object of your covetousness.
Keep from burdening the heart too much, for the
final drama consists in leaving all and passing beyond.
O my soul! drink this limpid nectar which has not
been stirred; drink it in memory of the charming idols
which ravish the heart. Wine is the blood of the vine,
my friend, and the vine says to thee: Drink of me,
since I render it lawful to you.
In the season of flowers, drink rose-colored wine; drink
to the plaintive sounds of the lute, to the melodious noise
of the harp. As for me, I drink and rejoice in it; may
it be salutary to me! If you do not drink, why not be
willing that I should? Go, then, and eat pebbles!