Because of the brown translucent champagne
That moistens its transparent arms?
And you hate it still more, when,
It moistens my dry lips,
Floods my arid throat,
Fills my empty heart,
Rests my nerves,
And I turn crazy.
And then I demand a kiss, not much,
Which you deny...
Why do you hate this glass?
You use it to see your image -
Beautiful and glowing your eyes,
Your purple lips,
Your shining black cheeks
And the high waterfall of your hair -
I use it
To see the dancing champagne through it
- which's surely more beautiful than you-
And, also
To forget that ugly image of yours
That stole my heart.
