Who has anguish? Who has sorrow? Who is always complaining? Who has unnecessary bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes? It is the one who spends long hours in the tavern, trying out new drinks? Don’t gaze at the wine, see how red it is, how it sparkle in the cup, how smoothly it goes down. For in the end it bites like a poisonous snake; it stings like a viper. You will see hallucinations, and you will say crazy things. You will stagger like a sailor tossed at sea clinging to a swaying mast. And you will say “They hit me, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t even know when they beat me up. When will I wake up so I can go for another drink?