To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows,
We drained a hundred jugs of wine.
A splendid night it was . . . .
In the clear moonlight we were loath to go to bed,
But at last drunkenness overtook us;
And we laid ourselves down on the empty mountain,
The earth for pillow, and the great heaven for coverlet.
The sacred act of drinking ourselves to oblivion..^_^ our lives over countless eons, seen through wine-warmed eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
With the earth and the heaven as close companion, what more would one desire along with wine?