Sol 5.6

  1. O you whose constant bent for revelry is mine,

    whose reins are held in the hand of youthful folly!

  2. Do you not see the water’s crystal glass,

    from which bubble-flasks rise before us?

  3. Then bring the goblets’ crucibles, filled

    to the very rims with molten gold.

  4. The sky’s bellows kindles a fire of lightning;

    when it dies down, it smokes with mist.

Sol 5.6