|The wave of the river glides along,|
The river follows its course to the ocean,
The wind sweeps the clouds along,
Bearing them on its shoulders,
The stars are drunk with the wine of fate,
And lie chained in the sky’s prison;
The sun, a worshipper who gets up at dawn,
And calls out the message ‘Arise!’,
Is hiding in the western hills,
Drinking a cup of reddish wine.
All things delight in their very existence,
They are drunk with the wine of being.
But there is no one to drive away his sorrow—
How bitter are the days of man!