A poem by Alcaeus of Mytilene (c. 625/620 – c. 580 BC)


Why wait we for the torches’ lights?

Now let us drink while day invites.

In mighty flagons hither bring

The deep-red blood of many a vine,

That we may largely quaff, and sing

The praises of the god of wine,

The son of Jove and Semele,

Who gave the jocund grape to be

A sweet oblivion to our woes.

Fill, fill the goblet–one and two:

Let every brimmer, as it flows,

In sportive chase, the last pursue.

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