Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has strife? Who has complaints? Who has needless bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes?
Those who stay long at the wine; Those who go to seek out mixed wine.
Don't look at the wine when it is red, When it sparkles in the cup, When it goes down smoothly:
At the last it bites like a snake, And poisons like a viper.
Your eyes will see strange things, And your mind will imagine confusing things.
Yes, you will be as he who lies down in the midst of the sea, Or as he who lies on top of the rigging:
"They hit me, and I was not hurt; They beat me, and I don't feel it! When will I wake up? I can do it again. I can find another."