On Stopping Wine

My dwelling stops beside the city wall,

Rambling about I stop in idleness.

Sitting I stop beneath the high shade trees,

I stroll and stop inside my rustic gate.

My favorite food stops with garden mallows,

My greatest pleasure stops with my youngest son.

All my life long I never stopped drinking:

When I stopped there was no pleasure left.

If I stopped in the evening I could not sleep,

If mornings I stopped I could not get out of bed.

Every day I would be about to stop,

But if I stopped my pulse became erratic.

I only knew that stopping was no fun,

I did not know that stopping could be good.

Then I saw it would be good to stop,

And this morning stop Ireally did.

Starting no,w and from this final stop

I shall stop in the Land of the lmmortals.

On my new face will stop the bloom of youth

And for a million years will never stop.