Life And Death Are Balanced As It

Will Cast The Spear And Leave The Rest To Jove.

Insignificant Mortals, Who Are As Leaves Are, And Now Flourish And Grow Warm With Life, And Feed On What The Ground Gives, But Then Again Fade Away And Are Dead.

The Glorious Gifts Of The Gods Are Not To Be Cast Aside.

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 Have You Come To Me Here, Dear Heart, With All These Instructions? I Promise You I Will Do Everything Just As You Ask. But Come Closer. Let Us Give In To Grief, However Briefly, In Each Other's Arms.