Fill my glass with red wine sweet.
Fill my dish with tasty meat.
And all the harrowing events of my day
with each morsel and sip will fade away.
Tomorrow I shall face another day
to wade through events that come my way.
And if at supper I have no drink
nor a morsel in which my teeth can sink.
I might lose a pound or two by morn.
But still I'll not face tomorrow with scorn.
For my heart is strong and thinks of you
regardless of wine or meat to chew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem