Be not cast down by the troubles which we call vicissitudes here below. Let us occupy ourselves only in drinking pure wine, limpid wine, the color of a rose. Wine, friend, is the blood of the world. The world is our murderer; how shall we resist drinking the blood of the heart of him who spills ours? 287. For the love which I bring thee, I am ready to undergo all sorts of blame, and if I violate my vow, I submit to the penalty. Oh! had I to endure until the last day the torment that thou causest me, that space of time would still seem too short. 288. We have arrived too late in this circle of being, and have descended below human dignity. Oh! since life is not passed in accordance with our vows, it is better that it should be finished, for we are glutted with it! 289. Since the world is perishable, I would devise some scheme for it; I would think only of joy, or only of the limpid wine. They say to me: Would God might make thee renounce it! Nay, would that He might not give such command, for if He gave it, I would not obey! 290. When, with bowed head, I have fallen at the feet of death; when this destroying angel shall have made me like a bird robbed of its plumage, then of my dust make nothing other than a flask, for the perfume of the wine that it contains might revive me for an instant. 291. When I examine closely the things of this world, what I see is that human beings in general appropriate to themselves, without merit on their part, the good it contains. As for me, O God All-Powerful! I meet only the reverse of my desires in all that falls under my eyes! 292. It is I who am the chief of habitual patrons of the tavern; it is I who am plunged in rebellion against the law, it is I who, during the long nights, soaked in pure wine, cry out to God the griefs of my heart imbrued with blood. 293. How grow the nights without which we could not close our eyes, and before which a cruel fate comes first to sadden us! Arise, and let us breathe an instant ere the breath of the morning stirs, for, very long, alas! will this Dawn breathe when we no longer breathe! 294. Come, see the Dawn, and, with a full cup of rose-colored wine in hand, let us breathe for an instant. As for honor, reputation, that fragile crystal, let us break it against a stone. Renounce insatiable desires, and stroke the silken tresses of the fair and list the harmonies of the harp. 295. In this world, where each breath we breathe leads to a new sorrow, it is better never to breathe an instant without a cup of wine in hand. When the breath of Aurora makes itself felt, arise and, time after time, empty the cup, for [as I have told you] this Dawn will breathe for long, long years when we no longer breathe. 296.