No flowers!
Let's blame the god in charge of flowers.
There's wine!
Now that's convenient for us lovers of wine.
We'll simply sit on bamboo mats
and pass our drinking cups;
if some guest, unhappy, slips out the back door,
we won't pay any heed.
In the mulberries, cuckoos sing,
urging on the farmers;
on the trees, “wine-jars” chirp,
pressing us to drink.
I'm old, you're poor,
what's for us to do?
Let's talk about becoming citizens
of Intoxication-land!