From putrid grapes/clusters
the winegrower hand fate the drink,
the some drinker squeezed
already broke the neck.
The jugs to the muzzles, damned bunch o' drinkers!
A breath of death and devil suffer the taste.
With full jugs, brew-transmit filled
to to the edge admit we, we drink
ourselves today
around the understanding.
Loop to the last mark the cool jug wine,
soon also you in deepest hell will always be full.
Not mildness and not grace
become you from God assign.
You did not have even in the life
with giving hurry .