Drink and be merry. What the morrow brings
No mortal knoweth: wherefore toil or run?
Spend while thou mayst, eat, fix on present things
Thy hopes and wishes: life and death are one.
One moment grasp life's goods; to thee they fall:
Dead, thou hast nothing, and another all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem