Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has contentions? Who has complaints? Who has wounds without cause? Who has redness of eyes?
Those who linger long at the wine, Those who go in search of mixed wine.
Do not look on the wine when it is red, When it sparkles in the cup, When it swirls around smoothly;
At the last it bites like a serpent, And stings like a viper.
Your eyes will see strange things, And your heart will utter perverse things.
Yes, you will be like one who lies down in the midst of the sea, Or like one who lies at the top of the mast, saying:
"They have struck me, but I was not hurt; They have beaten me, but I did not feel it. When shall I awake, that I may seek another drink?"