Yes, it is beautiful to enjoy good fame; it is shameful
to complain of the injustice of heaven; it is better to
become drunk with the juice of the grape, than to be
puffed up with false devotion.
O God! be pitiful to my poor imprisoned heart; show
pity to my bosom, susceptible to so much sorrow; pardon
my feet which lead me to the tavern; pardon my hand
which seizes the cup!
O God! deliver me from calculating, more or less, upon
the things of this world; make me preoccupied with Thee,
and free me from myself. While I have my sound reason
good and bad are known to me; render me drunk and
free me from this knowledge of good and bad.
This Wheel of Heaven runs after my death and thine,
my friend· it conspires against my soul and thine.
Come, seat thyself upon the turf, for, indeed, small time
remains to us before new turf shall germinate from my
dust and from thine.
When we shall have lost my soul and thine, they will
place bricks upon thy tomb and mine. Then, in order
to cover other tombs with bricks, they will throw my dust
and thine into the kiln of the brick-maker.