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How long shall we blush for the oppression of every one
And utter lamentations for the deceits of existence
Arise & do not suffer sorrow of the world if you are a man
It is a feast day, come, that we may draw rose coloured wine

 

P 537

How long, for the folk's unright, scorn's cup of brine drain we?
How long, for Fortune the base, the draught of repine drain we?
Take heart, for the weariful days of the twenty-bow prayer are past;
Come, for the Festival's here; the rose-coloured wine drain we!

Th 699

How long from man's injustice shame sustain?
Of cruel Fortune's fever bear the pain?
Arise! nor drink Care's cup, if you be man,
The Feast 'tis, come! while rose-hued wine we drain!

Th 849

How long shall we men's arrogance sustain?
And from base Fortune's juggling suffer pain?
Cheer up! For days of "Taraweh" have passed,
The Feast 'tis, come! while rose-hued wine we drain!

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