Dionysus walks his vineyard, his beloved;
Two women in dark clothing — two vintagers — follow him.
Dionysus tells the two mournful guards — the vintagers:
"Take your sharp knife, my vintners, Grief and Torment;
Harvest, Grief and Torment, my beloved grapes!
Gather the blood of scarlet bunches, the tears of my golden clusters —
Take the victim of bliss to the whetstone of grief,
The purple of suffering to the whetstone of bliss;
Pour the fervent liquid of scarlet delights into my ardent Grail!"
(1890)