It's sunrise, wineboy. Pour my drink straightway
For the turning of the sphere brooks no delay.
Ere our fleeting world has wasted away completely
Get me completely wasted with Rosé!
From the east of the winebowl rose the wine's red sun.
Want pleasure? Tell sleep to get out of your face today.
Fill the chalice of my skull with age-sweet ferment
The day the Firmament's wheel makes jugs of my clay,
I'm no man for sufistry, cant or hermetic babble.
If the wine is crystal-clear, then have your say.
Hafiz! The worship of liquid spirits is proper.
Get up, then, and vow to make it a proper day.