Classic Poem

Without wine I stop singing;
without song I'm averse to wine.
I delight in both wine and song;
they go together, they complement each other.
I trust my hand to compose a verse;
I trust my mouth to drink a cup.
Ah, what is an incorrigible man to do?
I've learned to enjoy both wine and song.
Wine never meant drinking a lot;
I couldn't keep up with a thousand songs.
Sitting face to face with a cup of wine brought on the mood;
I have no idea why this should be so.
As a result my sickness has grown progressively worse;
only with death will the habit be broken.
Thus it's not just me who gets upset;
those around me continually rebuke me.