1. With wine whose daylight is eclipsed by its glow,
And whose skirts make the darkness cower before its brilliance,

2. When poured it focuses its light through its glass,
As if it was made to be contained in its vessel.

3. When poured it appears in its goblet,
With its hues receding to its edges.

4. And if mixed, it nearly separates, so delicate its color,
From its water at the point of mingling.

5. A golden hue beside which the sun seems dark
In its glow, like the night in its lights.

6. And if you survey the air, you see it
Turbid next to its excellent clarity.

7. It increases in generosity the more
The days diminish its parts.

8. Nothing is more wondrous than its generation
Of health from its sickness, and its medicine from its disease.