Classic Poem

O Cup-bearer! give me wine —
Several goblets in succession:
Hard it is if you consider,
That without wine the spring should pass.
Where with flowers is found a comrade,
What restraint does bind a man?
See what they say, listen to them:
What says the music of Harp and Pipe?
Comes not back the passing moment?
Ah, how sad! Alas! Alas!
Good, indeed, is this world's life:
Would that it might last for aye;
Since for aye it lasteth not,
Count it worthless and despised.
Many lovers it hath turned away —
Fate does no compassion feel.