No wine for me!-Nay, an it be thy will,
Kiss first the goblet-I will drink my fill:
How may I, when thy lips have touched it, dare
Be sober still, and that sweet draught forswear:
For the cup steers the kiss from thee to me,
And tells me all the bliss it won of thee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem