This is all the life there is. It is good enough for me. Worry won't make another, Or make this one last longer. The flesh of man wastes in time. Today there's wine and dancing.
Today there's flowers and women.
We might as well enjoy them. Pass me the sweet earthenware jug, Made of the earth that bore me, The earth that someday I shall bear. So let's not rush blindly upon it, Like cows in rut. And the fire goes out. But so and so, feasting without end, Lie together kissing each other.