The nectar of temptation,
Dionysus' own little medicine,
soother of the tongue.
Let yourself fall slack,
underneath a golden rain,
of bitter taste and quick absolution.
It'll help the anger,
though you might have trouble speaking,
and everything else.
Even you walk,
and your talk,
will be affected.
But hey,
it's grand,
and I could drink a bottle a day,
couldn't you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem