As the poison of Bacchus spreads through me,
each of the eyes in my heart opens up,
with their sight growing as keen as his pards’,
this world in its true color they can see!
O, for a draught of such ancient sweetness
even Phoebus would surrender his bow,
and be full of ecstasy from the taste,
without a single line of frown on his brow!
As I move away from the reality
on his chariot, poisoned and venomous,
the more I see through the world, I care less,
for was Judas ever greeted like a foe?
How sweet is to me what the poison does,
to have love songs woven with threads of woe!