Man's ally in oblivion and joy
That makest our sorrows milder,
Our boredom sufferable
And our excitement wilder
Thee I hymn, cup in hand.
If vain men are praised that boast
Grand deeds they never did,
Shall thy honour have no toast?
The bliss thou dost on us bestow
Dies fast, they say, and 'tis true,
As do a young lover's promises
But is man's life not fleeting too?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem