HAPPY ENDING
Fill up my cup with wine oh cup-bearer,
Removing from my soul the desire for fame and dishonour.
Fill up my cup with the sort of wine that can ruin my soul,
And extinguish the score of deceit and snare.
The sort of wine which releases my soul from its own chain,
Taking my reins, it deprives me from my power.
The sort of wine which in sactum of the rogues not observing the forbidden,
Smashes my prostration and makes my rising fracture.
You were not within the sanctity boundary of the tavern’s rose-cheeked,
That from any aperture I enter, my bridle will be caught by a flower.
I will join the selfless elders, perhaps,By means of wine,
They will empty out my mind of thoughts, so vain and rare.
Oh! You the messenger of the lightly-burden of the mortality,
Take my praise and regards to that area's sea commander.
With the goblet I ended this mortality in mortality letter,
"Watch the Happy Ending." You tell of the cloister elder.