THE dark earth drinks, the forest
Drinks of the earth, the breezes
Are swallowed by the ocean.
The sun, in turn, the sea drinks,
And, last of all, the fair moon
Quenches its thirst in sunbeams.
Why quarrel with me, comrades,
If I find joy in drinking?
When I drink wine my cares sleep.
Why should I care for troubles,
Sorrows, or lamentations?
For after all my trouble,
My care, and woful weeping,
I die. Why waste in wandering
My life? Then drink the nectar
Of fair Lyaeus; sorrows
And care sleep, when we quaff it!
On the Drinking QuestionToday is my 21st birthday (no fooling). This afternoon you may find me at the Pro, carefully exercising my new
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