Who has sorrow and woe? Who has conflicts? Who has complaints? Who has wounds for no reason? Who has red eyes?
Those who linger over wine, those that seek mixed drink.
Don’t gaze at wine when it is red, when it gleams in the cup and goes down smoothly. In the end it bites like a serpent and stings like an adder.
Your eyes will look at strange women and your heart will utter perverse things.
When you lay down it will feel as you were in the midst of the sea, or upon the top of a mast.
You will say “They hit me and I didn’t feel it. I didn’t even know it when they beat me up. When I wake up I’ll look for another drink.”