And wonder not at an old man who settles himself in a well-filled house by a wine-cask that is brimming.
For truly wine strengthens the bones and heals sickness and drives away grief.
And the purest of joy is when the grave man throws off the veils of shame and flings them aside:
And the sweetest of passion is when the love-crazed ceases from the concealing of his love, and shows it openly.
Then avow thy love and cool thy heart: or else the fire-staff of thy grief will rub a spark on it;
And heal thy wounds, and draw out thy cares by the daughter of the vine, her the desired:
And assign to thy evening draught a cup-bearer who will stir the torment of desire when she gazes;
And a singer who will raise such a voice that the mountains of iron shall thrill at it when she chants.
And rebel against the adviser who will not permit thee to approach a beauty when she consents.
And range in thy cunning even to perverseness; and care not what is said of thee, and catch what suits thee: