1. She knows not that I am no reveler,
A passerby who drank without cheer,

2. How many slain never sipped from the cup,
Slain by the deadly wine of passion sincere,

3. So spare me, o obsessed and crazed lover,
Whose heart is marred by the eyes of the sincere,

4. Not ignorance of her love turned us away,
Nor are we pleased to be estranged from the sincere,

5. But I kissed a rosy lip, so sweet,
Where is its like, o tipped cups of cheer?

6. This is fresh and pure, but that
Is more soothing to the bonded sincere.