Cupbearer, it is morning, fill my cup with wine. Make haste, the heavenly sphere knows no delay. Before this transient world is ruined and destroyed, ruin me with a beaker of rose-tinted wine. The sun of the wine dawns in the east of the goblet. Pursue life’s pleasure, abandon dreams, and the day when the wheel makes pitchers of my clay, take care to fill my skull with wine! We are not men for piety, penance and preaching but rather give us a sermon in praise of a cup of clear wine. Wine-worship is a noble task, O Hafiz; rise and advance firmly to your noble task.
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