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For this whole year I've managed to repress
all my accustomed vices, none remain except for drink. And if I don't abstain God will excuse what's simply not my fault, since at whatever hour I rise and dress my body feels as if it's packed with salt. In such a case, I ask, who could resist wetting tongue and palate-so what's wrong? But on a good Greek import I insist, because the local wine annoys me-more than when my lady drives me from her door. He did a noble thing who first made wine- which keeps me feeling cheerful all day long! That's one, at least, whom I shall not malign. Cecco Angiolieri (c.1260-1312) translations ©2001 Leonard Cottrell |
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