Because They're Stupid, That's Why. That's Why

Now From His Breast Into The Eyes The Ache Of Longing Mounted, And He Wept At Last, His Dear Wife, Clear And Faithful, In His Arms, Longed For As The Sunwarmed Earth Is Longed For By A Swimmer Spent In Rough Water Where His Ship Went Down Under Poseidon's Blows, Gale Winds And Tons Of Sea. Few Men Can Keep Alive Through A Big Serf To Crawl, Clotted With Brine, On Kindly Beaches In Joy, In Joy, Knowing The Abyss Behind: And So She Too Rejoiced, Her Gaze Upon Her Husband, Her White Arms Round Him Pressed As Though Forever.

After The Event, Even A Fool Is Wise.

Will Cast The Spear And Leave The Rest To Jove.

Wine Give Strenght To Weary Men. And And Wine Can Of Their Wits The Wise Beguile. Make The Sage Frolic, And The Serious Smile. And Let Those Who Drink Not, But Austerely Dine, Dry Up In Law; The Muses Smell Of Wine. And No Poem Was Ever Written By A Drinker Of Water. And Bacchus Opens The Gate Of The Heart. And Might To Inspire New Hopes And Powerful To Drown The Bitterness Of Cares.

Why So Much Grief For Me? No Man Will Hurl Me Down To Death, Against My Fate. And Fate? No One Alive Has Ever Escaped It, Neither Brave Man Nor Coward, I Tell You - It’s Born With Us The Day That We Are Born.