Let's drink a cup of wine; let's drink another!
With petals from flowers we've cut, let's mark our cups; let's drink and drink, let's drink forever!
For when at last this body dies, it will be wrapped in a straw mat and strapped to a jiggy, or, perhaps, it will be borne on an elegantly decked bier, ten thousand standard bearers shedding tears. Either way, once among the reeds and rushes, the oaks and willows, when the sun is yellow and the moon is white, when fine rain falls or thick snowflakes flurry, when whirlwinds blow a mournful dirge, who will offer me a cup?
Need I add:
when monkeys whistle on my grave, won't it be too late for regrets?