If you find honey, eat only what you need, That you may not be too full and be ill.
Wine is a mocker, strong drink makes one quarrelsome, And whoever is misled by it is not wise.
Who cries, |Woe|? who, |Alas|?
Who has quarrels? Who complains?
Who has wounds without cause?
Who has redness of eyes?
They who linger long over wine,
They who go in to taste mixed wine.
So look not on wine when it is red,
When it sparkles in the cup,
And glides down smoothly.
At last it bites like a snake,
And stings like an adder.
Then you will see strange things,
And your mind will be confused.
You will be like one sleeping at sea,
Like one asleep in a violent storm.
|I have been struck, but I feel no pain;
I have been beaten, but I know it not.
When shall I awake from my wine?
I will seek it yet again.|