There was a merry din
That greeted me as I walked alone by the village in
Of brawlers - men merry and gay revelers wild and uncouth
Of boisterous celebrants who have plunged the ideals of youth
Into a narrow crypt of mediocrity and wasted their fortunes
And their chatter and prattle heralding more wastefulness
For Bacchus has drowned more men than Neptune
Contents of bottles were emptied to fill guts of nothingness
The noisy brawlers are all abroad - the village square deserted
Incarcerated in the thatched hut of the master brewer they sung
The glory of the palm tree slouched in sloth - the string harp hung
Above and in debauchery and profligacy feasted
They could not do other wise but drink
As they brew so must they drink
The brain has ceased to think
So the mouth must drink and drink and drink
There was a merry din
That greeted me as I passed the village inn
Of brawlers - men merry and gay revelers wild and uncouth
Of boisterous celebrants who have plunged the ideals of youth
Out of their stomachs and filled it with wine
And all around it was a pandemoniuous scene of revelers
Wasting away by the majesty of the bottle
There was a merry din
That greeted me as I passed the village in
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem